#i do hope christmas/new year holidays will in fact be snowy

[lonelyzarquon]

[mingigoo]

chocolate || Choi San (m.)

❆ pairing ⇢ (fem) reader x brother’s best friend! Choi San

❆ summary ⇢ you never got along with your brother’s best friend San, but you really never needed to. His pretty face and cocky attitude pissed you right off. But when he shows up on New Year’s Eve when you’re home alone, and a snowstorm forces you to stay together for the time being, you can’t help yourself from his enchanting charms—and sexy ass body.

❆ genre/au ⇢ smut, forced proximity, brothers best friend au, snowed in au

❆ warnings/tags ⇢ 18+ MINORS DNI, fingering, shower sex, oral sex (male receiving), slightly rough but really not too much, creampie, unprotected sex, the power goes out and they want to fuck each ther so bad I’m sorry

❆ word count ⇢ 5.2k

❆ taglist ⇢  @atinywhore @ch0isa99ie @jjhmk @yukine-smx @roe-sinning @meowmeowminnie @yeritheloml @y00nzin0 @yesv01 @halesandy @shegotboreddsoo @kangyeosangelic @gayliljoong @sanshineeeeee @kodzukein @baguette-atiny @seokwoosmole @nyeatinyjunkie @juliettechokilo @pockyddalgi @justaqueerbufoin @hwaightme @likexaxdaydream @ssaboala @gtr-skyline-lover @miriamxsworld @daegale @knucklesdeepmingi @naiify @yeoyeoland @arya9111 @mdibby @8tinytings @angelicyeo @wooyoungjpg @lonewolfjinji @asjkdk @charreddonuts @mangishii @yeoyeoland @pink-hwaberry @wooyoluvrr @maru-matt @pearltinyy @loveuwoo @m3chigo @northerngalxy @silverpixiedust23 (if I missed you please lmk!! bold = can’t tag)

The snow crunched under your feet as you walked up to your parents' home.

Christmas had just passed—although both your mom and dad were out of the area, having the time of their lives in the warmth of another country. You envied them, but you were happy to be back in town after a rough breakup and a messy semester.

When you walked in the door with a bag of groceries and now covering your eyelashes, your little brother Wooyoung sat on the couch in the living room, star-shaped shades on his face and a shiny jacket over his bare chest.

“What….why are you dressed like that?” you inquired, shoving your snowy shoes off your feet.

He stared at you blankly. “Are you stupid?”

You scoffed, walking past him to put the bag of groceries away—groceries that were solely for baking cookies. A perfect way to spend the night.

He stood up and followed you in. “Y/n, it’s New Year's Eve. How else should I be dressed?”

You forgot about it. All of it. It already pained you that you were alone this new Year after spending four of them with the same man.

You shoved the bag of flour into the cabinet aggressively. “I don't know, not like a disco ball? That jacket is gonna get puked on and ruined.”

He looked over at you, noticing your distaste. “Are you…..is Soobin, you know, coming in for the holiday? He already missed Christmas.”

Soobin decided to dump you for reasons unknown. You believed it was because he was chasing his dream of becoming an idol, and he couldn't have a bunch of sexy baggage like you, so you let him lose you. 

But if that wasn't the case and he broke up for you for the hell of it, you would strangle that stupid hot boy and let him pay for his crime of losing the best he’s ever had.

Anyway…

“Oh, we broke up,” you shoved the stuff around in the cabinet, hoping to distract your brother from the horrible news. You didn't tell him the whole time you've been home. You've been avoiding it—it was already embarrassing to be dumped, more so around Christmas.

It did not, in fact, distract him.

“Holy fuck, really?” he leaned forward, intrigued. “Why? What did he do?”

“Oh, you know,” you bit the corner of your lip, trying not to look like you were lying straight through your teeth. “He’s chasing his dream. I broke up with him so he didn't have to struggle with the girlfriend baggage and all. He was so heartbroken….”

Woo blinked. 

“Oh, girl,” he offered a sincere smile. Well, as sincere as wooyoung could possibly get. “He dumped your ass, didn't he?”

You stared at him for a second. You couldn't get past him—he’s seen breakups way too many times with San by his side.

“Yep.”

You stood there in silence for a minute or two, trying your best not to reminisce on your relationship—even though you were over him. It wasn't even about Soobin; rather, it was the aching feeling of being someone’s number two. A career, an understandable priority, still felt like a slap in the face to you, as you were less important in his eyes. You can joke with yourself and others all you want—but you crave that feeling of being someone’s pride and joy. Someone’s only thought when the world is about to end.

“Welp,” Woo sighed, not knowing what to say. “I have to head out soon. I’m meeting up with San and Yeosang to head to the party.”

You sighed, leaning against the counter behind you. “Have fun.”

He pondered for a second, sticking his tongue into the inside of his cheek. “Wanna come with us?” he asked.

You shook your head, already not feeling like doing anything—especially anything involving…..San. “No, no, you go have fun,” you smiled at him as best as you could.

He nodded, but gave you a look of worry before he left the kitchen.

You followed him like a lost puppy as he tossed his shoes on in the doorway, struggling to bring his chucks over his heel—his frat shoes, as he likes to express. The shoes he doesn't mind puking on. You watched in enjoyment as he wrestled his shoes.

“I’ll be back later,” he ruffled your hair tenderly, but the grimace on his face felt like he wanted to tackle you—in a playful way, of course.

“Be safe—”

He shut the door with a smirk before you finished your sentence.

—

“A sudden storm will be rising upon us within the next hour or so, with wind gusts up to……”

You could hardly hear the TV from the kitchen as you blasted Christmas music, flour on every square inch of you. You were baking—your favorite hobby. It’s been a while since you were able to bake carefree, and now that you had an unlimited amount of free time, you were going to bake as much as you missed out on. 

As you shoved in another pan of cookies into the oven, you heard the door open and shut loudly, so loud that you were able to hear it over your music.

“Wooyoung, what the hell?” you grumbled, your back turned from the doorway as you fixed up the already baked cookies to cool. “Can you slam that shit any louder? And aren't you supposed to be at a party?”

Silence. No response. 

“I said, aren't you supposed to be—”

And when you turned around, it was most definitely not wooyoung in the kitchen doorway.

You dropped a cookie onto the floor. 

“Well,” San smirked, his grey hood covering his dark hair, his lips curled sexily, and his eyebrows raised. “Aren't you a beauty?”

You stood there in a flour-covered apron, flour-covered hair, face, and everything in between, looking at the man across the kitchen table.

“San,” you breathed, brushing your hands off on your apron and bending down quickly to pick up the dropped cookie. “What are you doing here? Wooyoung told me he was meeting up with you.”

“To see you, of course,” He purred, taking a step closer to you. He walked around the table to get to where you were standing, and not surprisingly, he lifted a finger to the corner of your lips and then continued to taste it on his own. 

You shivered in what you wished was disgust.

His eyes lit up as he tasted it, licking his lips. “Mmm. Chocolate?” he hummed, leaning against the counter next to you. He pulled down his hood to reveal his messy, silky black hair. “You've always been such a great baker.”

“You scoffed, turning back to the stove to check on your cooling cookies. “Why are you here?”

“You just asked me that.”

“Yeah, but you didn't answer correctly.”

“I’m here to see you, baby,” he leaned forward. 

You leaned back.

“Ha!” you laughed sarcastically, picking up your spatula to wield it like a weapon in his direction. When you met his gaze, you felt your stomach drop from his pretty smile and his sickening gaze. “Wooyoung isn't here, alright? So you better leave, or I will kick you out—”

“I’ll just wait here for him until he gets back.” San shrugged, stealing a cookie before running away from the kitchen.

You followed him into the living room, tracking your flouriness all over the place. “Can't you just go home? I don't understand why—”

He was standing in front of the TV as your voice trailed off. Apparently, there was a huge storm that no one saw coming. San watched intently as he snacked happily on the cookie as if finding out that there was a blizzard outside was the best news he’d ever heard.

“A blizzard?” you freaked out, running up to the screen right next to him. After watching for a few moments, you went to the window, looking out to see the roads completely covered and the wind blowing a dusting of white all over the place.

“Oh….I didn't see that coming,” San’s irritatingly attractive voice spoke from right behind you, and when you turned around, he stood with a sinister smile on his face.

“You should go, for real,” you sighed, looking up into his eyes before moving your gaze anxiously. “Before you can't.” 

He peered over your shoulder, letting out a puff of air. “I don't think I can drive back on the roads like this….” he sighed, tilting his head at you. “It's too dangerous.”

You blinked, trying your hardest not to cave into those lustrous cat-like eyes. He blinked at you now, his expression unreadable.

It's been ages since you saw this man—ages, and he still treats you as if you were best buddies all your life. In reality, you've never once liked the guy. His hair pissed you off, his crooked smile boiled your blood, and god, his ears? Why were they so cute? How can ears be cute? Don't get yourself started on his lips…..lips that you….may have kissed once or twice all those years ago.

He never talked about it, so you just ignored it.

And now that you were thinking about his lips, your eyes dropped down to them, and when you realized, you cleared your throat and brought your gaze back up to his eyes.

“If you stay, you have to act like you're not here,” you breathed, crossing your arms over your messy apron. He looked down—down at your cleavage and smirked. “Eyes up here, mister.”

He hesitated to move his gaze, and when he did, your stomach flipped once more—god, maybe you just needed to get laid. It's been ages since you had a good fuck….

No. what were you thinking? No. no, no. Stop it.

You took a second to gain your thoughts before speaking again. “Just… don't do anything until wooyoung gets here.”

He stood close to you, looking down with those seductive eyes, his smile blindingly attractive. He didn't even need to speak to make your knees weak—which was probably why you hated him so much.

He bent his head to get closer to you, that smile still on his face. 

“Can I speak, master?” he nearly moaned, biting the corner of his lip. “I feel like it would be unfortunate to remain silent during our….reuniting time.”

You let out a little chuckle. “What? Reuniting time?” you uncrossed your arms. “That's funny. We were never close enough to unite in the first place.”

“Oh, y/n,” he purred, reaching out to twirl a finger around your hair. You wanted to run away. Your mind told you to, but everything else craved him—as it always has. “I would say we united many times, haven't we?”

He looked like he wanted to grab you as tight as he could and swallow you whole—but the conflict in his eyes said no. you watched his eyes dance around you, how his hand froze mid-air within your hair, and his lips flat in a line.

And it took everything in you to move away from him. 

You took a step back, watching his eyes drop to your feet.

“You can stay,” you coughed, looking anywhere but him. “But don't…don’t bother me. Don't talk about….uniting, or reuniting, or whatever…..” you huffed, giving him one last look before running into the kitchen, only to find the cookies in the oven burnt to a crisp.

And once again, the cycle began. San’s enchantment was whirling around you, capturing everything in its wake. Your heart never belonged to you—no, it always belonged to him.

And he will make sure you will never forget it.

—

San sat at the table, watching you intently as you made another batch of cookie dough.

“How’s school?” he asked you, his voice soft.

You shrugged, stirring the dough with your bare hand, as there was no mixer. “It's fine, same same.”

He nodded, his chin held up by his palm. You continued to mix the dough.

“How’s what's his name? Soo—Soomin? Soojin? Soo–”

“Soobin?” you asked, trying not to smile at his obvious distaste.

He nodded, a frown on his lips.

You didn't get to respond as your phone interrupted the conversation.

“Ugh,” you huffed, holding your dough-covered hands in the air, unable to get your phone in your pocket. “Can you…can you get my phone for me?”

San stood up. “Where is it?” 

You pointed to your back pocket. “There, in my pocket.”

When he got next to you, he hesitated on reaching to get it, but when you gave him the death stare, his gentle hand glided down your back, down your ass, and to your pocket. You froze at his touch and nearly missed the phone call from your mess of emotions. 

He answered the call for you and held it up to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Oh, thank god,” wooyoung breathed. “Don't go anywhere, alright?”

You scoffed, looking down at your dough-covered hands and your filthy clothes. “Ah, I wouldn't worry about me going anywhere. I’m definitely not fit for an outing.”

Wooyoung didn't laugh like his normal self. “For real, don't go anywhere. I won't be home for a good while because of the storm, so make sure you stay safe and warm.”

“Awe, I didn't know you cared so much about me,” you cooed, but when you saw San’s little smile at your words, you immediately swallowed hard, lost in thoughts you shouldn't be having while you're on the phone.

“Anyway, just be safe,” Woo sighed, taking a breath in. “I’ll be living off this shitty-ass beer and stale cookies. These sons of bitches are so cheap I swear—”

Without warning, the lights flickered slightly.

And then they went completely off, leaving you and San with no lights, no power, no anything.

“What the fuck—”

“For fucks sake,” San hissed, catching him off guard. Wooyoung, however, perked up the minute he heard a man.

“Who’s there with you? I heard a voice?”

“Oh, it’s just San,” you mumbled, looking up at him, where his eyes even sparkled in the dark. You forgot your train of thought for a moment. “He came here looking for you.”

“Yeah, right. That dude’s been obsessed with seeing you ever since he knew you were coming home. What a little pussy. He had to make up a lie to come over? Pfft—”

“Ah, oh no, looks like we lost service too—you’re breaking up—” San coughed, and after a moment of time for wooyoung to react, he hit the end button, tossing your phone onto the counter with haste.

You gave him a funny look as he tried to ignore your gaze. The room was extremely dark—not a single light source other than the little bluish glow from your home screen on your phone. 

You had no idea what to say to him; he didn't know what to say, either. You just stood in the dark kitchen, the oven at a standstill, and so were your feelings. He was looking down at his feet, trying his hardest not to look at you—although it was too dark to see you, anyway.

“Guess I’m done baking,” you hummed, giving him a slight look of curiosity before you took the cookies out of the cold oven. 

“Yeah, that won't work now,” he muttered quietly, very much unlike his usual dickhead way of speaking. He swallowed hard, too close to you. 

You stood strong right in front of him, your body telling you to grab him by the neck and kiss those gorgeous lips of his. Maybe you were just that desperate to feel something after your breakup—or maybe you always wanted San—either way, you were so close to giving in to your desire, but you pushed yourself away and took off your apron slowly.

“You never….you never answered my question earlier.”

You set the apron down on the counter next to your phone. It shut off now, leaving you in complete darkness, with San only a shadow in front of you.

You frowned, but you couldn't see the look on his face in front of you. “What question?”

“About how Soobin is?”

You scoffed, trying your best to look up into San’s eyes. You saw them sparkle slightly, and you stared into them. “So you do know his name.”

“I really don't care what his name is, y/n,” he grumbled, taking a step closer to you.

You smiled, knowing by the tone of his voice that he was aggravated. “Well, if you must know, I really don't know how he is.”

San grew quiet, but you heard him take a breath in. “what do you mean?”

“We broke up, so I wouldn't know how he is, alright?” you hissed at him, but only to get a reaction out of him—god, you didn't know what you’d do if what wooyoung said was true—that if San came here to see you, that he was waiting to see you for ages, that he’s irritated over the fact you’ve had a boyfriend—all of it would send you into a spiral. You always told yourself you'd need to be completely wasted to even think of San in a new light….but here in the dark, with his hot breath caressing your cheeks, you were ready to say fuck it to your facade. 

He didn't say anything for a while. He just stood there, his one hand leaning against the table to hold himself up. 

“You…broke up with him?” he hummed quietly.

“Mhm,” you nodded, tilting your head up to try and meet his gaze.

He swallowed, nodding. “Mmm. I see,” he smiled—at least it looked like he did. “Nice.”

“Nice?” you furrowed your brows.

“Well, I mean, I never liked the guy, so—”

“Why?”

“I don't know—”

“Yes, you do know,” you took a step even closer, causing him to catch his breath. “What’s the reason?”

He sighed, his breath dancing across your skin. “Well, like, two years ago or so, when we were out at the bar,” San took a second to form what he wanted to say, and you stood and looked up at him without a blink. “He got you a drink with Malibu in it.”

You blinked, confused. “So? I don't even remember that San, I don't know why you're bringing that up—”

“Because you hate coconut, y/n,” he interrupted you, his tone of voice exasperated. “And you hate going to bars—they stress you out. You didn't even finish the drink before he got you another and didn't even care to know what you liked…so I didn't like him.”

You stood there, mouth slightly dropped after his words. 

That was enough of a confession for you. 

“So….you didn't like him because he got me a coconut drink or….” you reached out, your fingers delicately draping over his that were resting on the table. He jumped slightly at your touch as if he was never expecting it. “Or because you could do better than him?”

San remained still as you let your fingers glide up his arm, feeling the softness of his hoodie that you wished to take off.

“....I think you know why I didn't like him….” He breathed.

You leaned forward in the dark, your gaze piercing right into his. Your hand met the base of his neck, sending shivers down his spine from the coldness of them. He let out a sound of pleasure at your touch, your other hand meeting his waist.

You didn't say anything else. You just wanted to fall into him, even with the consequences; it didn't matter what would happen tomorrow. He was breathing shallowly, his lips parted, begging you to kiss them as if he was waiting forever. 

And as if they knew the timing, the lights flickered back on, revealing a lovestruck San—his eyes hazy with desire and his expression out of a book.

His fingertips found their home on the side of your cheek, holding your face gently, carefully, as if you were glass.

You were less than an inch away from his lips, but before you pressed them to his, you stepped back, knowing that you were a filthy mess—you didn't want him to spend this time with you while you were embarrassingly messy.

“I….” you paused, pulling away from his hold. “I…need to shower,” you mumbled, giving him a look.

He blinked slowly. “A…shower?” 

“Yeah.”

With one last look at him, you saw the hesitation in his eyes. You walked past him, brushing up against him before you walked up the steps.

And before you got to the bathroom at the end of the hall, you heard his clunky footsteps make their way up the creaky stairs.

“Wait, hold on,” he huffed, grabbing your wrist to turn you around. “What was that?”

You looked at him innocently. “What was what?”

He furrowed his brows. “You know, that.”

You shrugged, fighting the smile that begged to arise. “What?”

He groaned, dropping your hand in a fit. “You were going to kiss me.”

You tilted your head, playing with him. “Was I?”

“Were you not?”

“I don't know.”

“Yes, you do know! You were literally about to kiss me—”

“And what if I was?” you whispered, your eyes slanted with mischief. He looked at you, his own expression changing from confusion to….well, more confusion. 

He bit his bottom lip. 

“Am I supposed to follow you into the shower?”

You smiled, letting him decide what you wanted him to do.

With a curt turn, you opened the bathroom door, leaving it open a crack, inviting him in.

You took off your messy top, covered in flour. You waited patiently, taking off your bra and your pants, and all that was left was your panties before he entered abruptly. 

“Listen, you can't leave that door open and not expect me to—oh,” he paused, his breath shaky. 

You stood unmovingly, facing him.

And with a slight scoff, he ran towards you. 

“Fuck it,” he huffed, slamming his body into yours, swallowing you with his whole being.

His lips caressed yours, biting your tongue, shoving his own into your mouth. You took in a sharp breath as he sucked on your soul, his hand finding your breast to squeeze it tightly.

“God, I’ve been waiting to do that forever,” he groaned against your mouth, his other hand playing with the hem of your underwear. With one quick motion, he pulled them down, falling onto your ankles as you stepped out of them.

You smiled into his kiss, tearing away at his hoodie before he pulled it over his head, leaving him shirtless and full of glory. You parted away from his lips, kissing down his chest, over his mounds of muscle, until your knees hit the floor.

He froze under your touch, your fingertips gliding over his hard-on. You grinned devilishly up at him, his expression in a mess of excitement and nervousness. Him? Nervous? Impossible.

You pulled down his pants as swiftly as you could, causing him to hiss sharply. He was fully on display for you now, his cock pulsing and ready for you. You grazed your fingers from his base to his tip; then you took it in your mouth without a warning.

He grunted, immediately gripping the hair on top of your head, tossing his own back with aggression. His little moans were music to your ears; not once did you ever believe you'd hear them—he looked so fuckable. So desirable. He always did, which explains why he was your first-ever kiss, why you always thought back to him when you were with Soobin, why you couldn't avoid his charms even though you so desperately tried.

He moaned your name—said it with such haste as if he couldn't hold back. As if he’s wanted this for ages. He leaned into your mouth, moving his hips slightly to push himself in deeper. You let out a gag, causing him to moan once more, making you smile against his cock.

You moved back and forth on him, no hands in sight. You glanced up at him through your eyelashes as you pressed your lips at the base of his dick, watching his eyes close tight and his chest heave.

“God fuck,” he huffed, his fingers tying knots in your hair, causing tears to build up behind your eyes. You liked it—loved it—his touch was ecstasy.

Without a minute to waste, San pulled you upward and off of him, just for him to press his lips to yours, reaching backward to turn the knob on the hot water.

You giggled against his lips as he almost fell. He smiled back, teeth clashing into yours as he pressed his bare skin to yours. You both stepped into the shower, not even caring that the water wasn't warm enough yet. 

His tongue slid down your throat, caressing the roof of your mouth, exploring the uncharted territory. Water spilled over your heads, dripping down your faces, drenching your hair. His hand gripped the back of your head as he slammed you into the wall of the shower, causing you to gasp.

He pulled away for a second, his eyes heavy, his lips parted as water dripped down his beautiful face. He pressed his forehead against yours—feeling as though this scene was all he’d ever wanted; it was premeditated—not a quick decision.

He blinked away the water, smiling before enveloping you in another kiss—this time, it was less lustful and more desperate. He breathed into your soul, his hands cradling your face with all the tender care he could muster. His breaths were shaky, and his hold on you was tight, as if there was somehow, someway, you would break away from his embrace.

You bit into his lip, your hands never finding a home as they explored all the planes of his body. He grunted as you reached for his dick, his eyes glimmering at your expression. No words were needed—he gave you one last look before flipping you around, shoving your face into the fall, and sticking his dick into your entrance. His lips were nibbling at your ear, his hot breath delicately stroking your body and soul.

He didn't push past your entrance just yet—no, but his fingers did. They glided over your clit from the back, your breasts aching from being pressed against the tile. He let out a little hum of a moan into your ear as his fingers entered you, two of them. You whimpered in delight, the movements turning you on more and more. You felt yourself getting wetter and wetter, his fingers curling up inside you, his shallow breaths echoing in your mind. 

You couldn't take it anymore—you needed him inside you, now.

“I need you in me,” you moaned against the tile, tilting your head slightly to see his expression. “Now, please. God, please.”

He smirked, moving you now to the far wall, your back still to him. You nearly slammed your head into the wall as he moved you.

“As you wish,” he breathed, his voice dripping with lust, with love, with unknown feelings. With a quick movement, he shoved his dick inside you, causing you to arch your back from the fill. You cried out, holding onto the wall as he gripped your hips, moving rhythmically and melodicly. You furrowed your brows in pleasure, muttering his name. “Oh, San,” you moaned, causing him to move even faster.

The water crashed onto you, making you feel even higher than ever were before. The heat of it was scolding now, but nothing beat how hot San made you feel—he was indeed a genius in the manner of lovemaking, a god, at that. You knew why, everyone knew why, but you didn't care at the moment. The only thing you cared about was his body on yours, in yours, all around you.

You were reaching your high, your vision hazy. You let out a cry, a huff, something to show that you were enjoying him, and he made a sound, too.

As you reached your climax, you arched your back even more, shoving your face against the wall, your forehead thumping against it with every thrust of his. You came on his dick then, your body fighting the urge to shake from the feeling he supplied you. 

He felt it—you knew it, as he quickened his pace, his breaths becoming more uneven as the time went on, your body tightening around him. He hissed sharply, thrusting with grace until he emptied himself into you, coating you, becoming one within you.

He collapsed into you, against the wall, his dick slipping out from you. He huffed, catching his breath as the bathroom filled with steam and sweat. You turned around in his embrace, his head falling onto your shoulder with a thud.

And then he started to laugh.

A laugh so beautiful, so….raw. You began to laugh with him, smiling as you grabbed his cheeks to lift up his head—so he could see you. 

His eyes were red, but they sparkled with so much emotion that you wondered how he was feeling. 

“So,” you smiled, watching the water from the showerhead drip over his black hair. “Happy New Year, I guess?”

He smiled—a smile that made you want to stop everything.

And then his eyes widened. “What time is it?”

You frowned. “I don't know, my phone is downstairs,” you whispered, locking eyes with him.

He paused for a moment, not knowing what to do, or at least that’s what you believed until he leaned forward and brushed his lips to yours ever so gently.

A kiss for a lover. A kiss more meaningful than sex could offer.

He pulled away, but only slightly, as his forehead rested against yours. “Happy New Year,” he kissed you again. “Just in case it is midnight. You haven't been my New Year’s kiss since years ago, you know.”

You didn't know what to say—you weren't sure where he was going with this, as you had never brought up your kiss with him before. He spoke cautiously, yet without caution at all.

“I….well,” you swallowed hard, looking up at him shyly. “You can be my….new years kiss every year, if you’d like.”

He smiled—grinned like a wild animal at your words.

“Well, if you don't mind, I’d like to kiss you more than once a year.” he grabbed you by the waist swiftly, smirking,

You giggled like you were experiencing this for the first time. In all honesty, you may be. No one has ever made you feel this way. You never wanted anything more.

With a flirty smile, you leaned forward into his embrace, the shower hissing in the background of your confessions. 

“I would love that.” you nodded, looking up into his eyes. 

He looked like a dream, his hair wet, his eyes bright. You couldn't wait to share more New Year's kisses with him, more showers, more cookies. You wanted everything and more—even if you didn't exactly know it quite just yet.

He was your everything—Your heart never belonged to you—no, it always belonged to him. And you will never forget it.

[imagineteamfreewill]

A Collapsible Crutch Christmas

Title: A Collapsible Crutch Christmas

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: Canonical violence, broken bone and pain from moving a broken bone, vomiting, passing out, mentions of splinting a broken bone, snowstorm, angst with a fluffy ending

Square/Trope Filled: Blizzard (SPN Christmas Bingo) and Rescue Mission (25 Days of Tropes)

Summary: On a solo hunt, you find yourself not only nursing a major injury, but snowed into a cabin on Christmas.

A/N: This is a submission for the 2022 SPN Christmas Bingo (@spnchristmasbingo​)and fulfills a trope on my 25 Days of Tropes list! It is more angsty than my other Christmas fics, but I hope you all enjoy (even though it’s after the holidays). Dividers by @firefly-graphics​

25 Days of Tropes Masterlist

Highway 75 twisted through miles of deep forest, making it and the cabins nearby a picturesque location for honeymooning couples, college students on summer road trips, and families looking to unplug. It also made it perfect for wendigos and a handful of other creatures that liked to prey on the unsuspecting.

Snow crunched underneath your boots as you trekked away from the highway, heading for the log cabin you knew was a few miles in. The public trails all led in the opposite direction, but this was the shortest route and it would give you a chance to check out the area without worrying about civilians. Your backpack was full of nonperishable food and extra layers of clothing, along with your usual hunting supplies. You knew that Sam had slipped in an extra charger for your phone, along with batteries for the flashlight, and Dean had packed an extra knife somewhere in your bag. They always worried about you, despite the fact that you’d been hunting almost as long as they had. It wasn’t your first time going on a solo case, but the eeriness of the silent, winter woods made you wish that you’d taken Dean up on his offer to come with.

Behind you, the sun had sunk low on the horizon, casting shadows that stretched far across the ground. You shivered and zipped your coat up a little further, then pulled the maglight out of your pocket. It turned on with a click that felt far louder than necessary and you looked around.

The hair on the back of your neck stood up. Something was wrong. You slowed, then stopped and turned in a circle, shining the flashlight in every direction. The light glanced off the trees and made the snow on the ground almost blindingly white, but there were no monsters to be seen and nothing seemed out of the ordinary. You knew better, though. Your instincts were fine tuned after years of hunting, and when your gut told you something was wrong, you needed to listen.

You slipped your gun out of the thigh holster and clicked off the safety. After a moment, you began walking again, heading toward the cabin with a slightly faster pace. Your heart pounded in your chest and you stayed on high alert, all while trying not to trip over your boots or the bumpy forest floor hidden under the fresh powder. A cold wind blew through the trees, cutting through your clothing like a knife and making you curse under your breath. The first thing you’d have to do once you got to the cabin is start a fire to warm up, then eat. Your stomach had been growling ever since you’d parked in the public lot near the trailheads.

When the cabin was finally visible in the distance, you relaxed a little. As soon as you did, however, something grabbed your pack and yanked you backwards, sending you flying to the ground. Your flashlight flew out of your hand, its beam shining off to your right. You yelped, then lifted your gun and fired off two shots at the hulking beast above you. Its pale limbs blended into the snowy landscape, and it was only the weak light from the winter sunset that allowed you to see its face. 

You’d read up on the news reports before leaving the bunker. You, Sam, and Dean had all agreed that it was a single wendigo that was taking out the hikers and photographers who’d braved the weather to take pictures of the trees covered with snow and ice. The reports had all been consistently spread out several weeks apart for over a decade, but it had been almost three months since the last one. You’d been skeptical that this was even a case worthy of your attention—after all, another hunter could have easily offed the monster without your knowledge—but Sam had been certain that the wendigo was still out there.

Now, as the monster growled at you from above, you realized that Sam had been right. The weather had been so bad that the trails had been closed for two months now, which meant that not only were you dealing with an incredibly strong wendigo, but you were dealing with a very hungry one, too. There hadn’t been anyone for it to hunt, and now you were its main target.

You cursed and righted yourself, scrambling to your feet and moving as far away from the wendigo as you could. A flare gun was in your other thigh holster and you quickly pulled it out, but before you could shoot, the creature disappeared. The woods fell deathly silent again and you tried not to breathe so loudly as you listened for any sign of the wendigo.

Slowly, you turned in a circle, surveying the quickly darkening forest. The sun was almost completely below the horizon and the flashlight had flickered off. The only light visible was the outdoor safety light by the cabin door a quarter mile away.

You stayed silent as you carefully made your way toward the cabin again, this time with your handgun in one hand and the flare gun in the other. When you were only a few hundred feet from the rickety cabin porch, the wendigo grabbed at your arm. It yanked you to the right and your handgun went flying. It discharged once, sending a bullet into a nearby tree, then disappeared in the shadows and snow. The wendigo’s claws tore through your coat like butter. Immediately, the cold slipped in through your layers and a shiver ran down your spine, but the adrenaline making your heart pound would quickly negate its effects.

You struggled against its grip. When it became clear that there would be no escaping the hungry monster’s grasp, you twisted as much as possible to get the flare gun into your dominant hand so you could shoot with better aim. It took a few tries before you were able to grab it and get your finger onto the trigger. You had one shot, and though your heart thundered in your chest and every part of your brain was screaming at you to fight and get away, you took a deep breath and tried to calm yourself so you could focus. 

The trigger moved smoothly under your finger. You pulled and seconds felt like hours. You held your breath, listening as the flare lodged itself in the wendigo’s chest. It screeched and threw you away from itself, sending you flying through the air and into a fallen tree. Even over the creature’s horrific screams you heard the snap of your leg breaking upon impact. The snow did nothing to cushion your fall. You screamed too, your own cry mixing with the wendigo’s as it burned to ashes in the darkness of the forest.

All around you, the temperature continued to drop and snow began to fall. You clutched your thigh as sobs ripped through you, making your throat more and more hoarse with each passing minute. The pain shooting up your leg was unbearable every time you tried to move, and though you’d had worse injuries, you’d never had to face them alone.

Finally, rationality kicked in and you realized you had to get inside the cabin before hypothermia set in. The snow grew worse by the minute, and you vaguely remembered the radio host mentioning a blizzard coming down from the north. If you weren’t inside soon, you could freeze to death and nobody would find you for days. Getting to the cabin was your only hope of survival, no matter how painful it would be.

You groped around in the snow, digging through the heavy, wet powder until you were able to find one of the fallen tree’s branches. With the last bits of adrenaline still rushing through your veins, you pulled on it until it snapped off. It emerged from the snow with another firm tug, and then you were able to use it to push yourself up off the ground. The branch was long enough for you to use as a crutch if you hunched over. You just had to hope it would make it all the way to the cabin’s door.

The pain as you dragged yourself from where the wendigo had left you to the cabin porch was excruciating. Every survival instinct you had kicked in and you had to fight against yourself just to keep going. 

“Come on, come on, open!” you screeched. You banged on the front door with your fist, being mindful to keep your weight on your good leg and keep yourself propped against the cracked wooden doorframe. Your makeshift crutch had fallen down beside you, but you left it alone—you wouldn’t need it until you got this door open.

The door swung open into the cabin with one last heavy shove. You almost fell through into the living room when it did. Snow blew in as you stumbled inside, tripping over the threshold with a shout, and grabbed onto the back of the couch a few feet inside the door. Thankfully, you managed to avoid much impact on your broken leg, but you still had to stop for a minute and gasp for air as the snow continued to blow into the cabin from the open door behind you. Black spots danced in your vision as you held onto the couch with a white-knuckled grip, trying to catch your breath.

When you finally managed to summon the energy to stand upright again, you pivoted on one foot to reach back and grab the makeshift crutch you’d left on the porch. You shook off the snow before pulling it inside, then locked the door and hobbled around to the front of the couch, using the crutch to support you most of the way. The fireplace was barren, not even ashes had been left behind by the previous occupants, but you were able to lower yourself to the floor between it and the couch. A stack of locks had been pushed up against the wall and you sent your silent thanks to whoever had had the forethought to stock it for the next guest.

Slowly but surely, the warmth of the fire filled the cabin, and the light from the flames allowed you to get a better look around. The lamp nearby hadn’t turned on when you’d tried, leaving you to believe that either the power had gone out or there was a problem with the generator. Either way, you weren’t in any shape to investigate, so the fire would have to do.

Your energy was slowly being sapped away by all the movement, but you needed to splint your leg and figure out if there was anything other triaging you could do before you passed out. After taking a few deep breaths, you braced yourself with one hand on the couch cushions and pushed yourself up. You wobbled on your good leg for a second, then grabbed your crutch and headed for the bathroom you’d noticed on your way in. A first aid kit had been wedged in the cabinet under the sink, and with it safely in hand, you limped back to your spot on the floor.

You collapsed onto the now snow-soaked rug, heaving as bile rose up in your throat. The pain worsened with every movement you made, and having to get up to get the first aid kit had taken an extreme toll on you.

Over the next few hours, you drifted in and out of consciousness as you put your leg into a splint and tried to fix your injuries as best as you could until you could call for help. The blizzard raged outside, and each time you came to, you stoked the fire, threw up beside you, and tried to triage as best as you could before passing out again. At some point, you managed to peel off the holsters on both legs, lamenting the loss of your weapons. You hoped that they wouldn’t fall into the wrong hands.

A gust of cold wind coming in through the open door made your fire sputter, almost going out, and a shiver ran through your body before you could stop it. You groaned at the sharp knife of pain that went up your leg, then your hip and back.

“Shit! Sam, she’s hurt!”

Dean’s voice made you open your eyes just enough to catch a glimpse of his face as he hovered over you. He cupped your cheek in his hand but you whined and shied away at the chill of his gloves met your heated skin.

“How long has she been here?” Sam asked.

The door slammed closed and the howling of the blizzard grew muffled again. Beside you, there was a heavy thud. The wood floor of the cabin shook beneath you as Sam and Dean hurried around. Someone shifted your leg on the rug and you cried out. Your eyes flew open and Dean was immediately above you, his eyes frantically trying to meet yours. He grabbed your hands before you could do any harm to him or Sam.

“Hey, hey, Y/N. Hey, sweetheart. It’s okay. We’re just fixing your splint a little bit and tryin’ to figure out what happened. Can you talk to me?” 

You recognized that tone of voice—Dean was panicking, but he was trying not to show it. Something inside of you reminded you that he was mostly panicking because he didn’t know what had happened and that the wendigo was really gone. His anxiety wasn’t a sign that your leg was worse than you’d originally diagnosed.

It took you a moment, but you managed to croak out an answer. “It threw me,” you rasped. You licked your lips and swallowed against the sandpaper feeling in your mouth. “But it’s dead.”

He nodded and forced a small smile. His eyes were glossy, and in your pain-riddled mind, you knew that you didn’t want him to be.

“I’m okay,” you told him, and you tried to force a smile as well, but in reality, it was probably more of a weak grimace. “I think it’s just broken.”

Dean nodded again. “Okay. Okay. Sam’s gonna check it out. Did you take any painkillers?”

When you shook your head, he looked over his shoulder, then reached out and took the white bottle from his brother. With one hand, you tried to sit up without jostling your leg too much, but after throwing up so many times from the pain and the injury itself, you were weak. Dean noticed immediately, of course, and quickly ditched the bottle of pills to help you.

“Water?” you asked.

Sam was there immediately, holding out a bottle for you. You took it and he went back to searching through the first aid kit. Dean shook out a couple pills and passed them to you once you had the cap unscrewed on the bottle. You closed your eyes as you drank, panting against the open mouth of the bottle after a long drink, and when you opened them again, Dean had a bottle of whiskey in hand.

He smiled a little at your confused expression, then held up a packet of crackers you recognized from when you’d packed your bag. Behind him, Sam mumbled something and Dean shifted, moving from beside you to sit behind you so you could lean against his chest. He pulled you back against him and situated his legs on either side of you.

“Sam’s gonna fix your splint a little bit more so that when we travel back to the road, it’s a bit easier for you. Take a drink,” he instructed. 

You took the whiskey when he held it out to you from behind, lifting it to your lips and taking a long swig. The drink burned on the way down and you winced, shuddering slightly, and Dean chuckled. You felt it against your back when his chest rumbled with laughter. Relief flooded you when the realization hit you that things would be okay now. Sam and Dean were here—you weren’t alone.

Dean rubbed his hand over the thigh on your good leg and you leaned back against him a little more, tilting your head back to rest on his shoulder. You closed your eyes, wincing and grunting as Sam adjusted the split. Dean’s other hand found yours and you squeezed it hard.

“It’s okay,” he murmured. “It’s okay.”

You nodded. “Mmhmm. Keep talking?”

“We hadn’t heard from you, so we came looking.”

“In the—” You hissed in pain, your whole body tensing and your hand squeezing Dean’s even harder as Sam profusely apologized from where he bent over your injured leg. “In the middle of a blizzard?”

“It’s not so bad now,” Dean said. His voice was soft and low in your ear, and he paused to kiss the side of your head. “We borrowed some snowmobiles from the ranger station a few miles away. I’m surprised none of them came out here to check the cabins.”

You hummed, trying to focus on his voice and the warmth of the whiskey instead of the pain coursing through your body. The painkillers would be kicking in soon, but until then, you had to ignore the churning of your stomach and the pain trying to push you back into unconsciousness.

“I missed you so much. I was worried about you, and it’s Christmas Eve. We didn’t want to celebrate without you.”

If it was Christmas Eve, you’d been lying on the floor of the cabin for almost a full day. There was no light coming in from the windows of the living room; you’d been so out of it that you hadn’t even realized when the sun had been up, unless the snow from the storm had blocked it out entirely.

“It would’ve been okay,” you groaned. “We would’ve celebrated later.”

Reaching one arm around you, Dean pulled you back against him, holding you down as your reflexes tried to move you away from Sam as he worked. You cried out, tears slipping down your cheeks as your back arched against the pain.

“No, it wouldn’t have. Last year was our first Christmas together, but we got held up with that Crowley thing, so I didn’t get to celebrate properly with you. I wanted to be with you this year. I wasn’t gonna let a little snow stop me,” he said.

You laughed, a bit of a groan slipping through as you grit your teeth together and tried to stay still. “A little snow, huh?”

“A little snow,” Dean repeated, chuckling. “He’s almost done, sweetheart, and then we’re gonna get out of here.”

Sam spoke up as he tightened the split, and you forced your eyes open to look at him.

“We can���t leave now, Dean,” Sam said, and Dean shifted behind you. “Y/N needs to rest and hydrate. She probably needs to eat something, too.”

Your stomach churned again and you swallowed down the bile. “Don’t talk about food. Please.”

As Sam worked, Dean continued to comfort you and hold you, until finally, they would be able to move you. The painkillers had kicked in and once they moved you to the queen-sized bed in the only bedroom, you were able to relax for the first time in days. You refused the crackers when your stomach flipped at the sight of them, but Dean left them within reach of your spot on the mattress in case you woke up hungry. 

Sam stoked the small fireplace opposite the bed while Dean arranged the blankets and pillows for you, and as he moved, you caught a glimpse of the time on his watch.

“Dean,” you said, grabbing his hand as it moved past. “Dean, hey.”

He paused, looking down at you. When he saw you smiling at him, he chuckled and smiled back, then took his other hand to brush the hair off your sweaty forehead.

“Hey, sweetheart. You okay?”

You nodded. “I’m good. Those painkillers really helped,” you told him, laughing a little. He laughed again and carefully took a knee beside the bed so he was closer to eye level with you. “But guess what?”

“Are you going to say chicken butt again?” he asked, and you grinned a little wider.

“No. Merry Christmas.”

A little v-shaped wrinkle appeared between his eyebrows as he lifted his other hand to check his watch, and then he smiled again.

“12:03,” he read aloud. “Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

Drowsiness was creeping up on you, aided by the warmth of the blankets and the fire, and Dean seemed to sense it. He reached out again and ran a hand over your hair. His expression softened and the firelight made his eyes sparkle a little. 

At some point, Sam had left the room, so when Dean leaned in to kiss you, you reached up to keep him close. Compared to other kisses, it didn’t even rank in terms of intensity, but you knew you’d remember this one for a long time. He braced one hand on the mattress and lifted himself up to lean just slightly over you, and you shifted to the side to kiss him better. His other hand slid up from your cheek to tangle into your hand for just a moment before he pulled away. You kept him close, one hand gripping the slightly damp fabric of his jacket. After a moment, you opened your eyes, but you had to blink a few times to focus on his face.

Dean smiled, chuckling slightly before pressing a second kiss to your forehead. “I love you. Get some rest, okay? I’ll come check on you in a few hours,” he murmured.

You whined and gripped his jacket a little tighter. “No, stay.”

He pried your fingers from the lapel. “Sam and I have a couple things to take care of. I promise I’ll be back.”

Nodding, you relaxed back against the pillows and released him fully. You kept smiling even as he exited the room, then closed your eyes. It felt like only moments had passed when you opened them again, but sunlight was peeking through from behind the curtains. The fire still crackled, though the stack of logs beside it had gone down, meaning that Dean had kept his promise to check on you throughout the night.

Groaning, you shifted yourself to sit up a little bit more in the bed. “Dean?” you called. “Sam?”

Silence answered you and panic fluttered in your chest for a brief moment. You were about to call again when the door swung open and Dean stepped inside, smiling. He quickly shut the door behind him.

“Hey, how you feelin’?” he asked.

You smiled a little, still fighting against sleep, and yawned. “Still not great, but better than before. Are we going home today?”

He nodded and came toward the bed. “Hospital first, then home, but uh… There’s something else we have to do first.”

Smile fading, you helped Dean move the blankets off your legs, then accepted the water bottle and pills he’d set out on the bedside table while you’d been asleep.

“Is everything okay? Was there another disappearance?”

His eyes grew wide and he carefully pushed you down by the shoulder when you started to sit up even further. “No. Hey, no. Everything’s fine, Y/N. You got it. It’s dead. Relax for a second.”

“Then what do we have to do?”

Dean didn’t answer, but Sam knocked and stuck his head in the door. “She ready?” he asked. When Dean nodded, Sam opened the door the rest of the way and held out a pair of crutches.

You propped yourself up on both hands, looking between them with a smile. “Where did you even find those?”

They handed them off to you and Dean helped you carefully pivot on the bed, then stand, using the crutches to support your weight. Sam had fixed the splint well enough that you were able to follow the two of them out into the living room of the cabin.

“What— What is all this?”

An evergreen tree had been propped up in one corner. Pinecones and balls of tinfoil had been used in place of ornaments and there were stockings hung on the mantle of the fireplace. The fire crackled, warming the entire room and from where you stood, you could spy three bowls of soup and mugs of hot chocolate set out on the coffee table you’d originally shoved out of the way.

You laughed, at a loss for words. “What—? How?”

Dean led you over to the couch and helped you settle in the middle, smiling wide. “We brought the stockings and the presents—”

“The presents?” you asked, gaping at him.

Sam laughed and set a few wrapped packages beside you. You glanced at them, looked up at him, and then over at Dean again.

“The soup and hot chocolate was in your bag and the dishes were in the cabinets,” Sam explained. “The crutches were part of an emergency kit loaded onto the snowmobiles. They’re collapsible ones, but they’re better than that stick you had when we showed up.”

The couch dipped as Dean sat on the other side of you, and the packages slid down against your leg. He set his hand on your thigh, smiling.

“I know it’s not a real Christmas with lights and a fancy dinner, but I was thinking that it was better than nothing,” 

Smiling, you reached up to cup his face with one hand, keeping his gaze on you. “It’s perfect,” you told him. “I love it.”

You kissed him, just as gently as the night before, and brushed your thumb over his cheekbone. He squeezed your thigh in return.

Thank you for reading! <3

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[goldenretriever-nicknelson]

how about an enemies to lovers (because yk im a sucker for it sksksk) with mcu!peter where they are set up for a blind date on christmas eve and when they find out they’re like, “you?!” okay bye 😭

Thank you for the request! I loved writing this one even though I feel like I suck at writing enemies to lovers haha. I hope you like it though! Excuse the writing I might be a bit rusty.

WC: 1.6k (I got carried away)

This was dumb. 

In fact, it was the definition of a dumb thing to do at Christmas and yet here you were on Christmas eve, waiting in the freezing cold for your blind date to show up. A date you had been avoiding for months. 

Your best friend had been trying to fix you up with someone in order to ‘lift your holiday cheer’ and knowing that your last breakup was the last straw in a long line of unsuitable suitors. You still regretted drunkenly telling her that she could pick who you dated from then on since your taste seemed questionable at best. 

You didn’t expect her to take the joke so seriously. And after excuses of finals, family visits and unexplained illnesses, here you were at an ice skating rink of all places. 

The bitter cold gnawed at your face, the only part of your skin that was exposed to the chill. You felt the time tick by slowly, starting to believe you had been stood up or if there was even someone coming at all. It wouldn’t be the first cruel joke of the year but you knew your friend wouldn’t do this to you. 

You were just about ready to give up, grab a hot chocolate and go home. A cheesy christmas movie to watch about two strangers falling in love sounded perfectly bittersweet right about now. 

Within the blink of an eye something flew across the street nearby, gaining the attention of passersby. You heard some kids talking about seeing a superhero swing by and had to check it out but before you could move two steps forward through the snowy New York streets, someone came running up to you. 

Someone oddly familiar and not at all welcoming. 

Peter Parker. Your famed college rival with a smartass and good looks to match. He seemed to beat you to every question, every class and every photography job for the school paper. 

You looked down at your phone, hoping he would walk past to someone else and not confirm your suspicions that he was your blind date. Your warm breath clouded the screen as you scrolled through your facebook feed, not daring to look up. 

“Y/N?” 

You scrunched up your face and bit your lip as you glanced up, noticing that Peter was just as surprised to see you as you had been to see him. He was trying to catch his breath even though his apartment was only around the corner. 

“Please don’t tell me-” 

“I’m your date.” 

Suspicions confirmed. You tried to hide your sigh of disdain, mainly towards your friend and smiled slightly at him. She was always saying how cute the both of you would be as a couple and when you’d finally ‘hook up’ but up until now you thought she had been joking. 

Sure, Peter had good looks and a certain charm about him that was easy to fall for but you were not going to be another girl caught up in his web. He always pretended he was oblivious to the looks he got from others and the flirtatious jokes they would make but no one was that innocent especially not a college student who was top of his class. 

“Something wrong?” Peter caught your distant gaze and bit his lip, a sheepish expression on his face. “I’m sorry I’m late, I got caught up in something.” 

“It’s fine.” You smiled and thought you’d make the most of it since you were both here, finals finished and Christmas just around the corner. What was the worst that could happen? 

Turns out that attempting to ice skate was the worst that could happen. You ended up spending more time on your ass then on your feet and that’s only when Peter wasn’t trying to catch you from falling. 

“Here.” Peter outstretched his hand towards you after another magnificent fall, a kind smile on his face that rubbed you the wrong way. 

You took his hand with a sigh and was surprised when he didn’t let go, continuing to skate around the rink whilst keeping you balanced. 

“I bet you’re loving this aren’t you?” 

Peter turned his head towards you, skating like a pro and keeping his balance even when he wasn’t looking where he was going. You were surprised he wasn’t doing tricks around the rink. 

“Loving what?” 

“Me failing.” You scoffed and rolled your eyes, feeling embarrassed. As if the date wasn’t bad enough. Although holding a nice warm hand wasn’t too bad of a feeling. 

Peter stopped you by skating in front, keeping a hold of your hands and looking you in the eye with a serious look. “No one can be great at everything. Not even someone as smart and as pretty as you.” 

Your eyes went wide at his words, cheeks burning pink in spite of yourself. Peter quickly brushed and stumbled over what he had said but you smirked and poked his side with your free hand. 

“You think I’m pretty?” 

Peter laughed and tried to hide his cheeks that were burning red before jokingly taking his hand away. You gasped and dragged him back as you nearly fell, pulling him a bit too close to you. His chest was almost pressed up against you, his warm breath fanning your face as his laughter died down. 

Your lips were so close that if you moved any closer you would be kissing Peter, feeling the warmth of his lips on yours and finding out what it would be like to kiss him. You quickly shook off that feeling as you pulled away from Peter, a stranger struggling to skate and balance bombarding straight through the both of you and almost sending you flying once more. 

Peter caught you with expert reflexes in a dip position, smiling down at you before helping you up. “I didn’t expect you to fall for me so much and so quickly.”

“Oh shut up Parker.” You pushed at his chest and hid your blush by skating away from him, holding onto the railings as you made your exit off of the rink. You’d had enough of embarrassing yourself for one day. 

Peter wasn’t far behind you as he caught up quickly and sat by you on a bench near the outdoor heater. 

“Are you okay?” Peter asked tentatively, offering his coat to wrap around you as he noticed you shivering. You gave him a slight smile and draped his coat over your shoulders, enjoying the scent of cologne that filled your senses. 

“I just didn’t expect you of all people to show up tonight.” You regretted the harsh words as soon as they left your lips, turning to watch the ice skaters. 

“Oh.” Peter’s face fell as did the usual cheery tone in his voice. “I thought you knew that I asked your friend to set us up.” 

You immediately looked back at him in surprise and raised a brow. “You asked them to set up the date?” 

Peter sensed the surprise and disbelief on your face and in your voice and slowly nodded, rubbing the back of his neck as he realized something had gotten lost in communication. 

“Y-yeah. I wanted to ask you out but I was too shy and every time I tried to talk to you, you looked busy.” Peter shrugged his shoulders and stuck his hands in his pockets, looking at the heater beside him.

You felt the blood rush to your cheeks, a welcome warmth from the cold but your body still sat frozen in shock. It suddenly felt like a very weird dream that you had had once where Peter had surprised you with a kiss under the mistletoe. 

“Why?”

It was the only question that fell from your lips even though there were a million rushing around in your mind. Peter’s lips quirked upwards as he looked back at you, his own cheeks turning pink. 

“Isn’t it obvious?” Peter spoke gently, as if it were only the two of you in the world, placing his gloved hand over yours. You looked at him dumbfounded and shook your head slowly. Maybe Peter wasn’t the only oblivious one. 

“I like you Y/n.” 

Your heart increased its speed tenfold as you heard Peter utter those words, the ones you didn’t know you had been waiting for. It was as if a new door had opened, a door to a whole new possibility. 

Peter didn’t hate you, he had a crush on you. And maybe you had a crush on him too. 

Suddenly, everything made sense. The looks he gave you weren’t looks of annoyance or of jealousy and when he asked for your help he wasn’t trying to rub it in your face that he could already do something like you knew he could. 

“Y/n?” Peter noticed you were staring off into the distance once more and tried to catch your attention back to earth. “Y/n are you-” 

“I-I like you too.” 

Your voice was quiet and nervous, unsure of if you should say it back but knowing it was how you felt and maybe it was how you’d felt for a long time. 

“Really?” Peter’s smile widened, challenging the stars with how bright it was. “I mean great, that’s great!” 

You giggled and blushed harder, meeting Peter’s gaze. The date suddenly didn’t seem like such a bad idea after all. 

“You want to grab a hot chocolate?” 

You nodded eagerly and kissed Peter’s rosy cheek, getting up from your seat. This time you were the one to outstretch your hand to him and welcomed the warmth of his hand joined in yours.

Tags: @glowunderthemoon @spideyspeaches @the-girl-in-the-chair @parkersdahlia @seolaseoul @feliciahardly @farfrombarnes @heyhihellowhatsup0

[opheliasflood]

🎄  𝓬𝓱𝓻𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓶𝓪𝓼 𝓯𝓸𝓻...

wydwen harbinger @wydwenharbinger

she’d been in two minds about purchasing something for wynn, not sure how it would come off. ophelia was also trying to operate within a budget, which was difficult when she was also trying to live up to her expectations. the beret had been a steal from a local christmas market, handstitched by some homely looking woman and ophelia could imagine wynn wearing it. it was encased in brown paper with a bow tied out of red string on it. a small tag upon it reads; happy holidays wynn. hope this suits your impeccable tastes, from opie.

rankle harbinger @ranklerainier

ophelia had been able to drop this one off at rankle’s home, thankful for the fact she had some idea where he lived thanks to previous meetings. though she knows she shouldn’t be worried about what he thinks about the gift, she wants him to like it. much in the same way she wants wynn to. the bracelet came in a black velvet box, and she’s kept it in that, simply tying a similar red bow around it and attaching a little card. the card has a depiction of krampus on the front, something ophelia finds fitting for him. merry christmas & a happy new years rankle! if i don’t see you wearing this i promise i won’t be hurt. from ophelia.

bellamy barnes @thebellamybarnes

it’s secondhand prada but, still prada, a bag given to ophelia by her own mother and one that had seen her through countless summers. it was in good condition, thanks to a recent refurb, and she was going to sell it so she could further afford christmas presents. that felt like a disservice to a bag ophelia liked so much, deciding instead to gift it to someone who would take care of it well; that being bella. it was in a prada dust jacket, along with it’s authenticity papers, neatly wrapped up in glossy cream and red wrapping paper. the tag attached reads; have a wonderful christmas & new years bella! hope you love the bag and have a wonderful holiday season, love ophelia.

thaddeus spaulding @thad-spaulding

her brother was the big fish this year, he had done so much to help her and ophelia knew she desperately needed to repay him in some manner. a lavish gift was on the cards but, the money was not. ophelia had been trying to budget for gifts, and what was left wouldn’t cover an omega watch, or tag heuer. the blonde had therefore gotten him a nicely made cardigan though...that wasn’t the star of the show. wrapped in the clothing was a beautifully framed pair of photos; one of both ophelia and thaddeus as children, and the other one more recent, of the two of them with norma in the park. the card that accompanied the present was large, beautifully decorated with a proud stag in a snowy scene. merry christmas thaddeus. i hope you enjoy the gifts i’ve gotten you, even if they’re nothing compared to what you deserve. thankyou for everything you’ve done, and you’re doing for me. have a great christmas and a happy new years love, ophelia.

bonus;

for norma, ophelia has bought her niece a series of sweet clothes.

[dragonsarecool]

Whumptober Day 16 - Paralytic Drugs

Sixteen: Paralytic Drugs

A/N: Set between 'The Calculus Affair' and 'The Red Sea Sharks'. The paralytic drug chosen for this one-shot did exist during Tintin's lifetime, although I have played with the dosage that was traditionally used. Also the new longest oneshot so far!

It had been six months since Borduria, and nothing had happened.

No kidnappings, no assassination attempts, no Bordurian agents shooting down the front door; it had been surprisingly quiet.

He couldn't help it; he kept wondering when the next thing would happen. They'd become so used to having frequent adventures that living a normal, ordinary life seemed like a fever dream.

The young man found himself pondering this almost obsessively as he sat in the front living room, watching as the days passed by. Eventually autumn gave way and December came through, and he would sip his tea while counting the snowflakes that landed on the windowsill, unable to fully let go of his worries. Surely a criminal is going to burst through that window any time now…

Some would call it paranoia, others would say he was being hypervigilant; Tintin thought he was exerting the right amount of concern. The Captain would sometimes crack a joke at the young man's refusal to believe everything was okay. "You and your paranoia; you'd think you've got the FBI on your trail or something!"

Yet despite the jokes, the older man was deeply aware of how on-edge Tintin truly was. How could he not be, after all the things he'd experienced in his short lifetime? He still couldn't believe Tintin was willing to set foot outside his bedroom door at all, given how often he'd come close to being killed.

It came to Christmas Eve, and Tintin still found himself fussing over the lack of excitement. Upon enthusiastic advice from the Captain (which he would've described as harassment), he'd successfully applied for the first Christmas period off since he first joined the journalism industry. He quickly grew bored, his fingers dancing idly over his typewriter as he longed for a story to investigate.

But, like the Captain had continually reminded him, Christmas was a time for rejuvenation and relaxation. He'd even sent Nestor on holidays early, and instructed the man not to return until January 2nd.

Tintin just hoped it wouldn't mean he'd be stuck dealing with a blackout-drunk Captain for a week.

It had come as a surprise to the young man when Haddock announced in the late afternoon on Christmas Eve that he was going out. "I don't mean to the market or anything like that, lad," The Captain clarified, shoving his jacket on. "Just going for a stroll."

"But Captain," Tintin spoke, "you do realise it's only a few degrees outside?"

"And?"

Tintin blinked, trying to think of an appropriate response. "…Bit cold for a walk, isn't it?"

"Nonsense, lad! You forget that I once sailed on decks in this sort of weather!" Haddock adjusted his hat. "Well, I mean, it wasn't snowing in the ocean, but-"

"I think I understand, Captain," Tintin laughed, taking another sip of his tea. "Now go on and enjoy your fresh air."

Haddock snorted as he opened the front door. "Enjoy your window watching, my friend!"

Tintin laughed as he watched his friend depart, only to hide the fact that Haddock was unknowingly speaking the truth. So many threats had come through that front door over the years; it made sense to him that the best place to observe for danger was in the living room.

Perhaps I am being paranoid.

He continued to sit in the living room long after he'd finished his cup of tea. He hadn't realised how long he'd been standing guard until Snowy trotted into the room, sniffing his legs and whining. "Oh, of course! Must be dinner time for you, boy!"

With the faithful canine weaving in and out of his legs, Tintin made his way to the kitchen, shivering at the sudden drop in temperature as he entered the tile-coated room. He pulled the sleeves of his sweater over his hands as he sorted through the main pantry, looking for Snowy's favourite dry food. Makes me wonder how many layers Nestor has to wear when working in here.

Snowy gave a grateful bark as Tintin lowered the bowl of food to the floor, tucking in feverishly. The reporter smiled, returning the container to the pantry and brushing the crumbs from his palms. "De rien, mon garçon."

Upon returning to the living room, Tintin's eyes were immediately drawn to an open front door, and he felt his stomach drop. The Captain can't be home already…

He'd barely taken a single step before he felt a sharp prick in his deltoid. "Merde!" His hand instinctively flew to the area and began to massage it. Oh, no no no…Am I going to drop dead or what?!

"Such language, monsieur!" The mysterious man's voice carried a sharp French accent. Having already pocketed the needle and syringe, he firmly grabbed Tintin by the shoulders before the young man could think about running. "I hardly think it appropriate."

"Says the man who just broke in and jabbed me!" Tintin snapped, struggling in the man's grasp. His eyes widened with horror as he realised what his brain was trying to tell him. "…Why are my legs numb?!"

"I prefer no chloroform, monsieur. Makes the job unpleasant for both of us," The man commented, watching in delight as Tintin began to sag to the floor. "Instead, I give small dose of curare. Takes care of things very quickly."

I HATE criminals who prefer creative methods. Tintin could only watch in abject terror as his legs stopped responding to him, his anxiety beginning to peak as he felt the same sensation spreading to his arms and torso. "You're insane! You could kill someone with that stuff!"

"Same argument for chloroform, young man," The man hoisted Tintin underneath his arms and began to drag him across the living room. "But I have been in this business long time and know it very well. I assure you, I know what I do."

"You're a professional, then?" Tintin spat, wiggling his fingers in the vain hopes of stopping them from becoming paralysed. "What do you want with us?! There's not much of value here!"

"I assure, monsieur, there is plenty! You just do not see it," Grunting heavily, the intruder hoisted Tintin onto the couch, arranging his limbs as to prevent them from dangling over the edge. "You are heavier than first appear, monsieur."

"Et ton angles c'est merde." Tintin snapped, glaring at the man's features through his balaclava. He suddenly became aware of an uncomfortable pressure in his chest, and unconsciously found himself beginning to breathe faster. Please don't tell me this paralyses the diaphragm as well!

A coarse laugh escaped from the thief as he placed a cushion under Tintin's head. "Tu es un drôle d'homme. But please excuse me; I have work to do."

Tintin found himself staring into the man's piercing blue eyes, only to realise that it was because the muscles in his neck had stopped responding, and he was now being forced to gaze upright. "You won't get away with this! My housemate will return soon!"

He heard a scoff from the intruder. "I watch you closely for few days, monsieur. He will be gone some time."

The young man struggled to find an appropriate retort, partially because he could feel his jaw beginning to stiffen. He tried to hiss a final remark at the intruder, only for his mouth to fall closed as the paralysis took over. "Hmmgh!"

"No point grunting, monsieur. It paralyses vocals too," The intruder's voice had grown fainter, presumably due to beginning his treasure hunt through Marlinspike.

He stared dully at the ceiling as he waited for his assailant to finish his search, his frustration mounting at an alarming rate. I can't help but be genuinely curious as to what he finds so valuable that he has to break in.

Although it was a very rough guess, he estimated ten minutes had elapsed before he caught a glimpse of the man in his peripheral vision, carrying a full potato sack of stolen goods. "Not as much as I hoped, but still good profit."

Tintin instinctively tried to growl, only for nothing to escape his throat. You despicable bátard.

"I see your anger. But consider yourself lucky, my young friend," The intruder suddenly kneeled next to the young man, snarling so close to Tintin's ear that his breath sent a tickling sensation down his ear canal. "I purposely give small dose. I am a thief, not a killer. You'll be uncomfortable for a few hours, but you will not perish. None of my others have died."

Tintin could only widen his eyes as the severity of the situation sunk in. He felt himself grow cold all over. No no no no no! I can't be left like this! The Captain won't be back until dinner!

The intruder sniggered as he noticed Tintin's silent distress, and clutched his rucksack of stolen goods tighter. "Bonsoir, monsieur."

He heard the front door slam shut, and found himself blinking away a fresh flurry of tears. Oh, mon Dieu…

*****

If the paralysing agent didn't kill him, he was sure the boredom would.

He'd given up on counting the hours a long time ago. What was the point when you couldn't see the clock? Instead, he tried to rely on the hourly chime from the grandfather clock in the dining room, though it was ultimately useless due to the distance.

He'd been fretting with worry about Snowy until he heard the familiar screeching of the Captain's cat. Of course he's chasing the damn cat…probably hasn't even realised anything is wrong.

Tintin tried to sigh, only for it to come out as a slightly-louder exhale. When he said 'hours', did he mean two to three hours, or longer? I can't stay like this for a whole day!-

The front door was thrown open, revealing the most beautiful sound in the world. "Tintin! I'm home! And I hope you like English whiskey, for we're sharing a bottle of it tonight!"

Tintin blinked furiously, his heart leaping in his chest. Captaine! Help!

"Tintin? Where are you, lad?"

The young man's eyes snapped to the side as he futilely fought to look at the doorway. He desperately wanted to cry, to scream, to move even his eyebrows, yet none of his muscles would respond to his commands. I'm here! Captaine! I'm in here!

It took a few agonisingly-long minutes before the Captain had finally looked into the living room, for he heard the distinctive sounds of English swearing. "Blistering barnacles!" Haddock dropped his shopping and sprinted to the young man's side. "Is he alive? Tintin!"

Tintin found himself staring past the Captain's eyes, blinking furiously as he desperately tried to turn his head. I'm alive! Captain! Ugh, it's a shame he doesn't understand morse code!

Haddock was puzzled, but the message seemed to click quickly. "Can you speak?"

Two blinks. Obviously I can't!

"Okay, I'm going to take that as a no. Can you move at all?!" Haddock's voice pitched slightly.

Two blinks and an irritated exhale. What I wouldn't give to be a telepath right now…

The Captain placed a hand to the young man's cheek, turning him so that their eyes could meet. "Oh, lad, I'm so sorry…what the devil happened?!"

Tintin blinked. I'm just doing this for fun. What the hell do you think happened?!

"Right, of course. I'm going to have to work this out then. Was it…those Bordurian idiots who kidnapped Calculus?"

Two blinks.

"Allan Thomson and his gang of iconoclasts?"

Two blinks.

"Rastapopolos?"

All Tintin could respond with was a blink, and he felt as though his chest would burst with rage. This is going to get old very quickly.

******

Of course there was a once-in-a-century blizzard that had sealed Marlinspike off from the rest of civilisation, meaning the doctor couldn't come.

Of bloody course.

Had he been physically capable to do so, Tintin would've grumbled. Instead, all he could give the Captain was an irritated blink. Putain d'enfer…

At least the Captain had tried to summon some help for him; he was grateful for the effort. Despite being unable to come and treat Tintin in person, the doctor was at least smart enough to provide Haddock with advice on how to support him as the paralysis drug was metabolised from his system. "He said lots of words that I don't understand, lad, but I'm pretty sure it's not rocket science."

Tintin blinked. Mon Dieu, this better be over soon, or I will go insane…

He blinked again.

Hang on.

My hand feels different…

His curiosity building, Tintin tried to move the fingers on his left hand, a small ball of delight growing in his chest as he felt them collapse into a fist. Bien! It's starting to wear off! He flexed the digits a few more times, his confidence growing as he felt his muscles grow stronger.

He caught a glimpse of Haddock out of the corner of his eye, who was still occupied with cleaning up the fragments of the broken whiskey bottle from when he dropped his groceries. There's no way he'll look over and notice. Captaine! Focusing all of his energy into his hand, Tintin's eye lit up as he finally managed to snap his fingers.

"What the?!" Haddock jumped, dropping the broom handle in surprise. To Tintin's relief, he turned to face the source of the sound, his face lighting up as he saw the reporter's hand moving. Although his hand seemed to have returned to normal, his wrist was still half-paralysed and offered limited motion. "Blistering barnacles, Tintin!"

Satisfied with this first step in communication, Tintin concentrated as he tried to mime writing. Get me a notepad, Captain!

"You want to write something?" Haddock's voice was laced with confusion. "Lad, you can barely move that hand, let alone write with it! Just wait a bit longer and the doctor will be here-"

Tintin responded by clicking furiously and miming a pen. Get. Me. A. Notepad.

He heard the Captain sigh angrily as he darted from the room, returning a few minutes later with the requested utensils. He clumsily grasped the pen in his left hand, struggling to twist it around his fingers. 1 intruder. Was planned.

Haddock took a minute to interpret the scrawled handwriting. "At least it wasn't a gang of thugs this time, I suppose. Are you alright though?"

Ok. Will wear off. Curare.

"Really? Not chloroform this time? Why the hell did he give you that stuff?!" Haddock snapped angrily. Realising what his words implied, he quickly backtracked. "Not that I'm not glad you're awake, lad…it's just-"

Tintin attempted to grunt in his throat, and was pleased when a small sound managed to escape. I understand, Captain, and I'm just as surprised as you are.

He reached out as far as his paralysis would allow, clasping the Captain's hand in his own and giving it a reassuring squeeze. I'll be okay, Captain. It'll be okay. And I did have a genuine reason to be paranoid after all.

A/N: Bien = good

De rien, mon garçon = you're welcome, my boy

Merde = shit

Et ton angles c'est merde = and your English is shit

Tu es un drôle d'homme = you are a funny man

Bonsoir monsieur = good day sir

Putain d'enfer = bloody hell

[enigma-absolute]

Cosmos, Lotus, and Poppy for the flower ask game, if you're still doing it!

Cosmos - what’s the best compliment you’ve ever received? Who was it from?

While I have attempted to answer it here (and still can’t give a whole one honestly), there have been others which are really sticking in my mind atm, both from the long and short-term.

Long-term: In a conversation with another believer friend in 2022, she heard from the Lord and relayed to me in the moment, and it even ended up being the source of inspiration for my current url. “You are an enigma of My absolute delight.”

(I personally hope I never stop being an enigma, honestly. Who wants to fit in a box anyway?)

Short-term: I’d been talking with a coworker expressing some concerns about one of the students I teach in class today, but she reassured me that it was fine, and the fact that I was able to have such a good rapport with the student in question was a rarity, so it was nothing to worry about. The relief I’m knowing I’m not screwing up is. Well, you get it.

Lotus - what is your favourite colour and in what shade?

BLUE.

More specifically, it’s the kind of blues you’d expect to see in the ocean, but also fit right at home in space too. R2-D2 blue. The sky is not black but navy blue. The light of a star through said sky kind of blue.

This kind of blue. It’s perfect.

Poppy - out of the four seasons, which season of the year is your favourite and why?

Good question - because of my status as someone who’s lived in the southern hemisphere for all my life and only been to the Northern hemisphere in the spring/summer seasons on *their* ends, they all have different connotations to me compared to most people Generally Online.

I don’t associate Autumn with Halloween, for instance, because of it. It’s just ‘oh costume season huh?’ because it’s spring turning into VERY warm summer here on my end. June-July-August aren’t summer to me, they’re the coldest part of the year and feed into my excitement to get back into layering my clothes up. I really do wanna have a white snowy Christmas at some point in my life, but when New Zealand’s mountain ranges are too warm for snow and Australia literally has surfing Santa as part of the usual marketing, grilling at a barbecue with the Hottest Temperatures to Become A Human Kebab In, good luck to me dreaming of said white Christmas when it’s sand, surf and MELTING.

That being said, I think I still enjoy my different perspective on the seasons. Autumn in the second quarter of the year looking like cozy vibes you don’t really get anywhere else, certainly not in the states. Winter in the middle of the year reminds us that we’ll get through it all somehow, despite the cold. Spring signifying the end of the main uni year (if you’re not someone taking trimester 3) and finals about to be over. Summer meaning the biggest break, the school holidays running in and the very physical reminder that despite all its rough patches, the first days of the New Year are bound to be bright, warm and sunny, just like they were in the end of the old one. That it’s a miracle to have the sun shining down brightly, you can get out of the house and run around having adventures in shorts and a t-shirt.

And personally for me, as someone who was born in that last one, it means a new lease on life being granted, knowing that the gifts of the Christmas just passed aren’t the only ones alone, and there’s bound to be more incoming.

For all the spite I have against summer, I don’t think I’d trade my ‘slip slop slap’ of a shirt, sunscreen and hat for any of the other seasons. I’ll sweat like hell, but that’s what cold water is for.

[svalbardcommproject]

About Svalbard

For my blog project, I decided to choose Svalbard, an island located close to the North Pole. I chose this island because I initially knew about it since it is the region that holds the Global Seed Vault, which is essentially a “doomsday” vault holding nearly 1 million seed varieties. I am an Agriculture Science major, and I thought this fact was interesting. I am also fond of cold and snowy weather, which is perfect since Svalbard is covered in it year-round. I believe that deep-diving into this culture will provide me with a better understanding of their way of life and traditions. Especially since their life is almost entirely lived in the dark (except for a few months). It will provide me with a more open mind and a deeper knowledge that my way of living and my culture isn’t the only way of life. I hope that when I do converse with other cultures in the future, I will have a deeper wisdom and willingness to learn about their culture, even though it is different from mine.

Svalbard’s Characteristics Svalbard is located in Northern Europe north of Norway. It is an island that is 62,045 square kilometers (about the area of South Carolina). The climate is arctic, with an average temperature ranging from 3 to 7 degrees Celsius. The terrain is rugged and covered with ice the majority of the year, except for the west coast which is clear of ice for half of the year. This country’s natural resources include coal, iron ore, copper, zinc, phosphate, wildlife and fish. The population of this small island is only 2,926, consisting of 61% Norwegian and 38.9% of groups consisting of Russians, Thais, Swedes, Filipinos, and Ukrainians. The languages that are used there consist of Norwegian and Russian [4].

Svalbard’s Culture Norway assumed sovereignty of this island within the 1920s. Because of this, many cultural traditions were adopted from Norway. Their meal choices on the island include mainly meat options since vegetation is sparse. This includes reindeer, whale, ptarmigan, salmon, pollock, haddock and seal [1]. Their national dish, called Lapskois, is a hearty hash stew containing reindeer, sausage, carrots and potatoes. Sometimes an egg will be added to the top [5]. The majority of Svalbard is Christian and affiliated with the church of Norway. With that being said, they celebrate Christian holidays such as Christmas and Easter. Along with various Christian holidays, they celebrate the Norwegian’s constitution day (May 17), as well as May Day, which is a European festival marking the beginning of summer. They celebrate this by coming together and gathering wildflowers and green branches, to which they weave floral garlands and crowns [3]. Some other Svalbard traditions include taking your shoes off while entering buildings. This tradition originated from the coal miners who tried to prevent black dust from covering the floor of the buildings. Now, it is known as a gesture of politeness, and is also included when entering museums, hotels, and various other establishments [2].

Eliminating Cultural Bias I think that we often look at other cultures from our own perspective because that is what we are familiar with and what we have grown to know. Especially if we haven’t learned about cultures of other origins. I think we often compare our own culture to other cultures when studying something new. For example, I do not enjoy the taste of fish and neither does my family. We do not eat fish in our household for that reason. Although, the majority of food that is eaten on Svalbard is fish since it is a large fishing community. Just because I do not like fish does not mean that I should think that their way of life is lessor than how I live my life in my own culture. For me, I will ensure that I keep an open mind when learning about the culture of Svalbard. There is more than one way to live, and my way is not the prominent way.

Work Cited

Casini, Filippo. “Here’s What They Eat in the Northernmost City in the World.” VICE, 16 Dec. 2021, www.vice.com/en/article/7kbvbd/what-is-arctic-food-cuisine-like.

Nikel, David, Amuthan S, et al. “16 Fascinating Facts about Svalbard: Norway’s Arctic Archipelago.” Life in Norway, 27 Dec. 2021, www.lifeinnorway.net/svalbard-facts/.

Nikel, David, Cayden, et al. “Public Holidays in Norway 2023.” Life in Norway, 15 Dec. 2022, www.lifeinnorway.net/public-holidays/.

“The World Factbook: Svalbard.” Central Intelligence Agency, 16 May 2023, www.cia.gov/the-world-factbook/countries/svalbard/#geography.

“Svalbard National Symbols: National Animal, National Flower.” Symbol Hunt, 9 Apr. 2023, symbolhunt.com/svalbard/national-dish/.

[sandrina-p]

A Pagan’s Christmas

Yesterday I made a post about how I celebrated Yule this year. As a pagan, as you all can probably guess, I follow the wheel of the year and celebrate the eight seasonal holidays that happen throughout it. But, of course, I live in a very Christian dominated culture. Almost everyone around me celebrates Christmas, Christ’s Mass, instead of the original holidays our ancestors had before this new religion took over. But let’s not get too salty over here.

Today I want to talk about how two very different practices can still come together for a holiday. Fact is, many, if not most Christmas traditions have roots that lie directly in the pagan holidays that were celebrated before Christianity came around. Now whether these were stolen or simply continued to be practiced when pagans were forced to become Christian is a completely different conversation. The way my family celebrates Christmas today includes many original pagan traditions. And I’m happy about that, because it enables to to come together and connect at this magical time of the year.

Here are my dad, his girlfriend Julia, and my little brother Arthur during our family’s Christmas celebration. We were gathered around a decorated fir tree, and exchanged gifts. A very typical Christmas, right? Evergreen trees, such as the fir, were already considered a symbol of this time thousands of years ago. It stood as a reminder that even in cold and snowy times, there is still life, and that there will soon be more green in the world again as the earth wakes up from her yearly slumber. Gift giving is an amazing way to give your relatives and friends hope and a little bit of light at a time where nature is at its darkest.

And another better picture of the tree we had this year. Another common thing to do for Christmas is to hang up a mistletoe. This is also an originally pagan tradition!

The whole family came together to enjoy a nice, big meal. We’ve already made it so far in the colder half of the year, and now the sun is coming back and so is our hope for what the new year may bring. What better time is there to have a good meal with the people you love? 

This post is just meant to be a reminder that no matter what religion you practice or what you believe in, many traditions of different culture might actually overlap. You don’t always have to share the same opinions as everone around you, or in your family. Especially around all of these winter solstice holidays, this is not a time where you should fight with people about different beliefs. I’m sure you can find something that fits what you believe in and want to celebrate that you can share with your family, all throughout the year. <3

[littlemisslipbalm]

A Cool Christmas

Josh Kiszka x fem!reader

ugh crying at this gif, its literally so fucking perfect :')

Summary: She's neighbors with the Kiszkas and their families are close family friends, spending the whole holiday season together is the norm. When she comes home for the holidays for the first time in two years, she's confronted with the boys who used to annoy her to no end.

A little bit of a enemies to lovers moment, but I couldn't make them too mean bc Josh is just a love bug! Happy Christmas to those who celebrate!! I hope you have a wonderful time no matter what your situation is.

Warnings: kissing, being mean to each other, enemies to lovers as previously stated, idk its pretty tame I just wanted to finish on Christmas Eve lol, also the smallest bit of Jake is in there - like as a possible romantic partner

Word Count: 11.6k I believe :)

The drive to Frankenmuth from the Detroit airport was a journey she knew well, even if she wish she didn’t. She blasted TV Girl and Phoebe Bridgers through the rental car’s stereo as she looked out at the snowy landscapes racing past her eyes. Her brain was pushing her to turn the car around on the two lane highway. It’d be so easy, she reasoned, she could make a lie about how she actually didn’t make her flight. They said there was a storm coming in and who’s to argue that she didn’t feel safe even if they weren’t grounding flights yet after missing the first. She could get a room in Detroit and just…spend the holidays alone.

No, she shook her head to herself as she watched the pavement continue to disappear beneath the car. She had to go home. It wouldn’t even be that bad. Sure, she hadn’t been home and seen any of her family for two years and, yes, she saw the temperature outside the car and thought she might die, but she could do it. Surely her mom still had her winter clothes tucked away somewhere for her to pull out and use. There was simply no need for anything she had worn during winter times in Michigan to accompany her California. Living there for the last six years had allowed her to grow accustomed to the climate so much so that she feared going back to Michigan every holiday season and with the last two year break, the fear had come back all the stronger.

Still, as Frankenmuth began to actually show up on the highway signs and as the number of miles beside the name began to dwindle, she bobbed her head to the music and sang along to the music, screaming along to parts that were particularly important to her. While fear and worry were two of the strongest feelings she felt about this return home, she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t a little excited to see her siblings who also lived in different corners of the country and even world, in her brother’s case. Family was one thing that she knew she could handle even if they gave her plenty of headaches all on their own, but another thing was the nagging knowledge in her brain of something she was trying to push off.

The fact that her mother and father were best friends with their next door neighbors and Christmas Eve and many other festivities were tied together with their family. She would be subjected to sharing her time with her family with the neighbors as well, which was something she was far less excited for. Not that the Kiszkas weren’t lovely, well at least Karen and her husband were lovely, and she had no problem with Veronica, but the Kiszka boys… She had been in Josh and Jake’s class growing up and between that and being their neighbor, she knew them all too well. Now with their band having become rather famous, she always hoped they were more tolerable, but based on her last encounter she felt like they might be annoying and terrible in new ways.

Just as the town approached, the thoughts kept creeping in. Admittedly, she had listened to their music and had enjoyed it. She, too, was an appreciator of music, but adamantly refused to converse with them about it when they were all growing up. Her mom continuously pushed her to talk with them about the Beatles, who were her first true love, and the other musicians her mom knew they all liked but Y/N refused every time after the first time she took her mom’s advice. When she had been seven and she asked the twins their favorite Beatles song, Josh had told her that they weren’t all that good and she had turned on her heel and walked back into her house. From that day on, she refused to talk to them about music, even their little brother Sam since she felt like he was basically a third version of the twins.

Still, they were good musicians, she was a big enough person to admit that, but she never offered anything more than that if Greta Van Fleet was mentioned around her and certainly not any information about them if someone figured out she was from the same town as them. God forbid they know she actually was neighbors with them and she guessed the correct term was ‘close family friends’. It was almost nightmarish to think that there were pictures out on the internet of them when they were young that fangirls circulated and possibly speculated about who the random girl was beside them. It made her cringe just to think about, but still, the thoughts plagued her as her stomach flipped at seeing them all as she knew she inevitably would. As much as she hated it to admit it, they were some of the people who have been in her life the longest outside of her family. She wasn’t close with them if that wasn’t already abundantly clear, but she also hadn’t stayed in touch with anyone else from Frankenmuth after leaving for college either. And the friends she had made in California were mostly from after college, except her best friend from first year, meaning it was only a six year friendship. The Kiszkas had known her whole life and she was a significant part of their growing up in their eyes. It was a bond that she wouldn’t acknowledge, but it was undeniably there.

The last time she had seen them, Christmas two years ago, had been the usual besides the fact that they had really settled into being rockstars or famous or whatever they liked to call it, what had they said as she’d rolled her eyes? Successful. Right. So that was the first holiday season that they had been comfortable saying they were successful and they had just finished all of the intense touring they had been doing. So they of course were the talk of the town and dining table discussions for the entirety of the three weeks she had been home. What was next for the band? When was the next album coming? Shit like that and she had just been there, trying to have a nice time with her family when she wasn’t subjected to her mother telling her to be nicer to the boys. She had easily responded that they probably didn’t need one more person being fake nice to them and her mother had glared at her and began to lecture her about the holiday spirit and friendship and a lot of other things that she drowned out as she helped herself to another glass of wine.

Two years later and they were arguably more famous than before, somehow. The pandemic had really seen a lot more people get into music which she wasn’t upset about, but she guessed it was also the reason why a lot more people were head over heels in love with Greta Van Fleet, making her life harder somehow. More people inquiring about Michigan whenever it came up that it was her home state. More dodging questions about them if someone realized she was from the same town. More expensive tickets into Flint and Detroit (this likely wasn’t because of them, but she really really thought it was). And more people visiting Frankenmuth which meant there was more traffic on this road than ever before, specifically just as she was driving in.

So it was just the anxiety of seeing her family, the cold temperatures, and the Kiszkas making her want to turn around and go back the way she came from. Barely anything. She could do this. Christmas with the fam…and the entire Kiszka family…and the cold ass Michigan winter. She turned the music a little louder in an attempt to drown out her thoughts. Yearning for a nonexistent lover was far better than worrying about real life that was only five miles away now.

At her parents’ house, she’s greeted with hugs and jests about how cold she must be. She grinned genuinely at her parents and inquired about when her brother would arrive. Her sister and her husband sat in the living room when she dragged her backpack and small suitcase through the area to get to her bedroom. They laughed at her as well, seeing the grimace on her face when they asked about the drive from the airport and what she thought of the weather compared to California. They lived in Alaska, so this wasn’t anything for them anymore. She only rolled her eyes and huffed into her room.

Thankfully, there, her mother had laid out exactly what she had been hopeful for. Her Michigan winter clothes. Wool longjohns, a big puffer jacket, some waffle long sleeves she had cheesily cropped when she was a teenager, a thick pair of black overalls, and some University of Michigan and old Christmas sweatshirts. Her mother was one of her favorite people in the world, even if she could also piss her off to no end.

Before returning outside for her purse that she accidentally left in the car, she changes into the longjohns, one of the waffle long sleeves, and a navy Michigan hoodie. Not too much, considering she was only going to be out there for mere moments.

“I see you’re back, too,” A low voice calls as she reaches across the seats to grab her purse in the passenger’s seat.

Her eyes close at the sound as she grasps the strap of the bag in her hand, her body splayed over the seats and she thinks about the view this person must have of her in this moment – her ass and legs mainly, covered in her black longjohns and some fuzzy slippers she’d slipped on. She takes a deep breath before returning to a standing position and swiveling around while closing the car door.

Jake Kiszka stares at her, unabashedly letting his gaze travel from her legs up to her face, a quick flicker down again before meeting her eyes. He’s standing next to his family’s car in their driveway next to hers, holding two grocery bags and with his usual smug expression on his features.

She offers a grimace back that she doesn’t try to make any more pleasant and a half-hearted wave with her free hand, which only makes Jake’s smirk grow wider. His hair is longer than it was last time she saw him and it looks quite clean splayed around the shoulders of his navy wool peacoat, which looked terribly expensive.

“Had to come back at some point,” She finally says with a shrug, beginning to walk towards the front door of her house, locking the car behind her.

He looks a little perplexed as she clearly walks away from their conversation and begins to walk to his front door as well. “Nice sweatshirt,” He calls before she disappears inside with finality, no interest in speaking with him obvious when she doesn’t even shoot him a glance as she closes the door.

He shakes his head, a smile still on his face as he enters his own house and calls for Josh to help with unpacking the groceries.

“You’ll never believe who I just saw in the driveway,” He says slowly, taking out the egg carton carefully.

Josh opens the fridge and looks over his shoulder with his eyebrows raised, silently telling Jake to continue, surprisingly no guess at his lips.

“C’mon, guess,” Jake insists in a way that sounds cool rather than whiny, the hint of a joke mixed in his words.

“I don’t know,” Josh shrugs, raking his brain for names of their school teachers from their youth. “Ms. Young?” He guesses, knowing she was both their first crush in kindergarten.

“No,” Jake laughs, handing Josh two cartons of Egg Nog. “Try Y/N, our neighbor.”

“No way,” Josh says, truly disbelieving.

Jake nods, “I didn’t think she would be home this year too, and I don’t think she realized that she was wearing Dad’s college sweatshirt that he gave me in high school.”

“How do you know it was yours?” Josh asks, almost incredulous, Jake had been right when he said he wouldn’t believe him.

“Because I remember losing it during Christmas time one year and it has a nice big stain on the right sleeve that I saw when she waved at me like she wanted me to vanish into thin air. I’m sure her mom just assumed it was one of theirs if I left it lying around at their place.”

“I didn’t know waves could communicate that, but with her, I’d believe it,” Josh adds, not really caring about Jake’s sweatshirt all that much, thinking about his neighbor who had always really disliked him.

“I feel like we were kind of shitty to her in high school and then she has to see us every time she comes home, probably isn’t great,” Jake muses, finishing up the unloading of the groceries rather quickly. “Maybe we should apologize?”

Josh scoffs and looks at his brother with a humored expression, “Oh please, we could’ve been saints and she would still hate us. She’s just like…the worst.”

“Right,” Jake laughs and pushes a bit of his hair out of his face, “Maybe she mistook me for you, then – wouldn’t be the first time. I think I’m going to try to get on her good side though, I feel like we’re all adults now. Plus, it’d be nice to have someone around who isn’t asking for autographs or anything from us while we’re home to hang out with.”

“Good luck with that,” Josh calls as he walks back to the living room. His curly hair bobs as he disappears through the door and Jake can’t help but roll his eyes at his twin.

At her house, she mentions to her sister that she just saw “a Kiszka”. The only way she ever liked to refer to them besides “the Kiszkas” when she wanted to speak of them as a whole.

“Which?”

“Does it matter?” She says as she sits on their couch.

“I guess not,” Her sister, Heather laughs in reply. “Give me a hint though, long or curly. Those two always made you the most upset.”

“Long, thankfully,” She breathes, frowning at the thought of Josh, who was admittedly the one she disliked the most. He was too loud and always talked over everyone and was always far too peppy on early morning excursions when she was forced to attend things like morning hikes during the holidays.

“Do you think you’ll ever get over this hatred for them or are you just going to carry it to the grave?”

“Why do you say hatred like that?”

“Like what?” Heather’s brows raised at her little sister.

“Like I don’t actually hate them?”

Her sister just laughs with a coy smile. “You tell me.”

“Okay, fuck off,” She sighs, not really meaning it, but leaving to go to her room anyway.

At dinner that night, her mom informs the family that Joe, Y/N’s brother, was getting in tomorrow morning, but that was also when their family was supposed to get the Christmas tree. So her mom explains that someone needs to stay back to do that and Heather conveniently mentions that she and her husband were already tied up with something she was rather vague about, which was oh so convenient. Her mom and dad were adamant about both being there to pick up Joe from the airport in Detroit since he was flying in from Japan and returning home for the first time in over two years. Since she had been coming from California, they had no problem letting her get a rental car and just dealing with the drive, but no, Joe was special. He also was the youngest, so that probably added to the coddling besides the two years since they’d seen him in person. He was actually the same age as Sam Kiszka, so they got along pretty well, much to Y/N’s chagrin because it added to the reasons why she was forced to see the Kiszkas.

So, if her math was correct, that left her to get the tree. Which, how the fuck was she supposed to get the tree all on her own? This didn’t add up at all to her as her eyes flashed around the table at her family members like they were insane.

“So I’m getting the tree by myself tomorrow?” Her eyes wide.

Her mom nods, “Well, not completely by yourself. The Kiszkas have the same pickup time. So the boys can help you with it.”

“Mom!” She feels like a little kid when she says it, but can’t help it. This was exactly what she feared she would say, but it also inevitably was the only solution besides her dragging around a six-foot Christmas tree all on her own – which was, admittedly, physically impossible.

Her mom gives her a look from across the dinner table and she closes her mouth instantly, licking her lips before sighing.

“Okay,” she breathes out, “Don’t worry, I – I’ll be fine, I can do it.”

Saying she could do it and doing it were entirely two different stories because now that she’s at the tree lot with the Kiszka twins standing in front of her and at least five layers of clothes covering her shivering body, and she wants to run the mile home rather than stay here. Sam steps out of the car behind Jake and Josh and he smiles at her warmly, his gangly limbs hidden in a black Patagonia puffer and dark wash jeans that work to contrast with his brothers’ shorter statures. She didn’t even have time to take in their outfits, both of their haircuts being the loudest part about them (besides Josh’s voice, of course).

“Y/N,” Josh says gravely, in some form of greeting.

“Josh,” She says back, curtly. “Jake, Sam. You’re all…here.”

They nod and Sam gives a quick ‘yes’.

“I was told you’d help me with my family’s tree since they abandoned me.”

“We were told that, as well,” Jake says, “So we should probably get to picking two of these guys out?”

There’s a small beat of silence while she stares at them, not one of them shivering from the cold even though they didn’t live through Michigan winters anymore either.

“Yes,” She says when she realized they were waiting on her agreement. Idiots, she wanted to mumble but refrained.

They walk through the rows of trees while she informs them that her house needs a 6-foot tree, Sam tells her that they were also getting a ‘6 footer’ as well. Josh says something under his breath, but she pointedly doesn’t try to catch it, not caring what he could possibly have to say about Christmas trees. They’re successful after about fifteen minutes, there was a bit of an issue when Josh tried to insist that the Kiszkas needed the one she had picked out for her family, but Jake and Sam had been quick to cut the pair off from bickering too much. Jake pointed out another 6-foot tree to Josh and Sam stepped in front of the twins to say to Y/N that her family could have the one she wanted. She smiles graciously at Sam and Jake, but can’t help that it slips from her face when Josh returns into view, an annoyed look on his face.

The boys all hang back to begin loading the trees onto their respective cars while she heads to the checkout. Her mom had given her enough cash to cover hers and Jake had handed over the money for the Kiszka tree as well. She had honestly been grateful that none of them insisted on going to pay with her so that she didn’t have to wallow through aimless conversation that they struggled to keep up when she didn’t really offer much to add to it.

When she reaches the register, the cashier is a girl, clearly in her teenage years. They all looked so young these days, she was probably 16 or 17, but to her, the girl looked more like 12. The girl, whose nametag reads Maddy, smiles at Y/N giddily and there’s a glint in her eyes that isn’t quite placeable. Y/N nods and offers a normal greeting before telling her that she’s covering the two trees that the boys are beginning to secure to the car roofs and she gestures over that way. In reality, she wasn’t sure why she was offering so much information considering there was a specific time for this tree pick up, there were no other trees being bought at this time. Still, she was trying to talk in hopes that what she feared wouldn’t come to pass. The glint in the teen girl’s eyes was making her nervous and then she realizes that gesturing towards the Kiszkas was the worst thing she could’ve done.

It was enough to have Maddy speaking up and Y/N can’t escape it.

“I can’t believe you’re friends with GVF,” Maddy gushes, “I don’t think I’d ever be cool enough to talk to them, much less be friends with them. Do you know Danny too? Are you one of their girlfriends? I won’t tell anyone, I swear.”

She resists the urge to gag and roll her eyes at this kid because for her it really must be cool to be so close to see musicians you love, but god if only she knew. But a scoff still sounds and her mouth is talking before she can stop herself.

“Not cool enough to be friends with them? Oh hon, have you seen their high school pictures?” There’s a smile on her face as she says it, feeling smug in the fact that she knew these guys weren’t cool in high school, at all.

She shakes her head with a quick yes that she had indeed seen pictures of them in high school, which only made Y/N slightly uneasy, but let it slide. The transaction finishes on the register and Maddy is handing her the receipts, which Y/N takes gingerly before tucking her hands back into her pockets.

The cashier clearly wants to say more, but Y/N is already turning to go, yet her mouth is out of her control once again.

“Oh and for what it’s worth, I’m not friends with them – they’re actually not cool enough to be friends with me.” She flashes Maddy a wink and walks away.

Sure it was an arrogant thing to say, but it felt so damn good, she couldn’t wipe the grin off her face as she walked back to the two cars.

Sam hops off the side of her car where he just finished tying the last side of the tree down and creates a semi-circle by joining where the twins are standing, who were not helping – of course. She stands before them and presses her chin down slightly into her scarf, feeling cold and also trying to hide the smile from them.

No luck.

“What’s got you smiling like that?” Sam inquires with a tilt of his head, having a hard time imagining that she’d be so happy with them that she’d let it show.

“You should go give that girl an autograph or something, she seems like a big fan,” is all she says, voice deadpan.

When they don’t move to actually go over to the cashier, Y/N raises her brows expectantly. “Seriously, at least one of you. Or are you all bigger assholes than before?”

“Hey –” Josh starts, but Jake rests a hand on his brother’s forearm.

“Yeah, we can go over, but I seriously doubt that’s why you’re smiling. Right?” Jake questions.

Josh starts to walk towards the girl and Y/N turns to watch as the girl’s eyes light up with a mixture of giddy excitement and fear. Instead of responding to Jake, she just nods her head in the direction Josh went, encouraging them to hurry it up. The boys walk over there together and take a selfie with Maddy before scribbling their names on a random receipt, making the girl elated. Josh’s face is so pleasant as he chats with her, a genuine smile on his face, but Y/N doesn’t notice because she’s on her phone trying to ignore how cold she was and also the nice thing she had done for the cashier, despite disliking the boys. She had to prove they weren’t all that impossible or otherworldly to talk to, it was just like talking to normal people. So really it was more for her than for this Maddy kid, she told herself in reassurance.

Once they’re finished with the impromptu meet and greet, the satisfied smirk on her face is still present when she looks up at them standing next to her again.

“She was nice,” Jake confirms, “But why did learning she was a big fan make you smile? It certainly doesn’t sound like you.” He was unable to let it go.

“I just told her you guys weren’t as cool as she might think, certainly not too cool to talk to her. And that we weren’t friends, nothing crazy.” She shrugs and starts to go for the handle of the driver’s seat of her car.

Jake looks surprised and Josh has a scowl on his face, while Sam barks out a little chuckle.

“Don’t start with me Josh, I sent you over there to give her a picture and shit, I was being nice, even when I am freezing to death – I doubt my little comment tainted your image or anything, chill.”

“Do not tell me to chill.” He snaps, sounding annoyed, she knew the tone really well unsurprisingly. “Why did you even talk about us with her?”

“Hm, I don’t know, maybe she saw me walking around with you three and assumed we were friends so she brought it up as she was ringing up the trees? Seriously, she was word vomiting about how cool the band is and was wondering if I was dating one of you. I had to tell her that that was not the case.” She shrugs, opening the car door now, done with the conversation. “At least two of you will help me get this in my house right?”

Josh disregards her question by scoffing at the previous statements. “Just don’t point us out to people, okay, there are already too many people asking us for stuff without you advertising that we’re here and sending us over to meet fans. I don’t even know how you manage to do that while also talking shit, it’s a real talent.”

“Aww,” She croons, but her face is rigid with loathing, finally running out of patience with him, “I made Joshy mad.” She scrunches her face at him before continuing, “Better go realign those chakras, don’t want people to find out that not only are you uncool, but you’re also a huge asshole.”

“You are the –” But Josh is once again cut off by Jake telling him to get in their car.

“Sam and I will come over to help, just wait for us, okay?” Jake says finally, a bit of a harsh look on his face. Making fun of someone’s brother usually did that.

“Thanks,” She can’t help but say, maybe she’d been a little harsh, but didn’t Josh have it coming? He was always an asshole to her.

The tree gets put in the house by Jake and Sam with little to no unpleasantness. Sam apologizes to her about Josh being rude at the Christmas tree lot and tries to explain that they’re so happy to be home and have a little break from touring and famous life, that Josh is trying to take some time to relax and reconnect with himself instead of being the big frontman personality. She refrains from rolling her eyes when Sam can see, but she nods and gives a short wish of luck with that endevour. It was annoying how charming the Kiszkas could really be, because Sam was making her heart thaw just a little bit even if she’d never admit it to anyone. Like, maybe they had grown up a little bit – besides Josh, at least.

When Jake hangs back after they’ve finished setting the tree up where her mom had instructed her to tell them to place it, she’s once again shown that some of the Kiszkas have seemingly grown up. Jake looks at her with a soft expression and she returns it will a look of confusion.

“Yes?”

“I just want to apologize,” Jake starts.

“Yeah, Sam already did, it’s okay, Josh is an idiot, I know.”

Jake laughs, his hair shaking out behind his shoulders. He was just in a dark grey waffle long sleeve and there’s four necklaces hanging down on his chest over it. They all look unique and interesting and if they were close she might have asked to check them out.

“I mean, yeah, he is, but I meant for how I acted in high school and growing up with you. These past few years have allowed me to do a lot of reflecting on myself and teenagers are just such assholes, you know. I guess, I’m just trying to say that whatever I might’ve said or did when we were younger, I didn’t mean it and I’m not that kid anymore, so I’d like if we could put that behind us and actually talk since I know our families aren’t going to stop being close anytime soon – both physically and socially.”

Her eyes widen at Jake’s words and she leans against the wall behind her as he speaks to her in her kitchen. They were right beside the side door that allowed him to get back to his house quicker than going through the front door. An apology for childhood wrongdoings. She really hadn’t expected that.

When she’s silent, Jake continues, “I guess you don’t need to necessarily forgive me, but I just wanted to tell you I was sorry. And that you won’t have any trouble from me this holiday season.”

The smile that spreads on her face is genuine as happiness washes over her. Jake looked sincere as he pushes a stray hair out of his face instinctively, waiting for her to say something, anything.

“Thanks Jake, it is nice to hear. Also I know I can be a bitch sometimes, so sorry about that too, I guess, but seriously you two were menaces growing up.” She decides to relent a little, to not present the hard exterior that had been reserved for the Kiszkas when she was younger. Jake was right, she wanted to be an adult too, if he was willing.

He laughs and mumbles another sorry. She tells him she’ll see him around, of course, and that she’d report to her mother that they had been lovely, so her mom could tell Karen the boys had been good. He thanks her for not mentioning Josh’s little outburst in advance.

As she watches Jake disappear through a crack in their shared fence that she had forgotten about back to his house, a memory of Christmas past comes to mind. When she and the twins had been seniors in high school.

She was laid out on the couch in her family’s living room as everyone was hanging around in the kitchen and dining room after diiner. She had disappeared to read to avoid teasing from the twins who found it endlessly enthralling to make fun of her in every way imaginable. She would have thought they would have gotten bored with it after all these years, but they still found it more interesting than cleaning up or talking with grown ups about their lack of interest in college.

“Are you seriously reading Nietzsche and listening to Christmas music?” Josh asks, seeing her with the book in front of her face as she’s on her back.

“Yeah?” She calls back, not bothering to lower the book or tell him that it wasn’t her who put the Christmas music on anyway.

“You’re twisted,” He says as he crosses to stand next to the couch, placing himself so that when he leans over the side of the couch, his face is above hers, separated by the book.

He pushes at the book, attempting to see her face. Her hands relent and it comes to rest on her chest and she stares up into his dark brown eyes, not lit up by anything as his back faces the fire in the room and it’s dark outside. His hair curly but short at the sides, he had recently gotten rid of his middle part almost bob that she actually thought was cool, but would never have told him about. Now he looked like the asshole he was, rather than the cool hippie he had been impersonating for the last year or so.

“And you can’t even spell Nietzsche properly, so just, can you go away?” She asks, but a smirk slips onto Josh’s face at that.

He continues to stare down at her, playfully, while she stares back, unamused.

“You know,” Josh starts and pulls around the couch and gestures for her to make room for him. There isn’t a fight she wants to get into less than Josh trying to sit on her if she doesn’t move, so she sits up and scoots into the corner of the couch. Josh sits in the center and looks at her. She rolls her eyes in annoyance. “It’s actually bad luck to wear black all the time.”

“You’re such a fucking liar, Joshua.”

“I bet Nietzsche won’t tell you that,” He raises his eyebrows at her.

Another eyeroll ensues and he’s still smiling because he loves just how easy it is to get under her skin. She gets up and leaves the room after that, unable to enjoy - well, enjoy was the wrong word as reading philosophy was pretty unbearable to get through, but a necessary evil to communicate her anti-cool girl persona she had worked tirelessly to cultivate in high school - her book. Not being allowed to go to her room by her parents instruction and not wanting to be in either the kitchen or dining room, she heads to the side door and slips outside. The air is freezing but it’s better than being bugged by Josh and at the time, she had been accustomed to the Michigan winters, her skin a little thicker.

When she’s finally peacefully alone, she sighs a breath of relief. But then there’s a rustle behind the fence in front of her and she’s widening her eyes, slightly unsettled. There’s a little smoke raising on the other side as well, but she doesn’t notice it.

“Is someone there?” She calls after another rustle, feeling anxious, but then kicking herself for calling out when a head pokes through the hole in the fence.

It was Jake and his eyes are as wide as hers until he realizes it’s her.

“Oh, it’s just you,” He says as coolly as possible, stepping fully into her family’s yard, a half-smoked cigarette still burning in his left hand.

“Sneaking off to smoke a cigarette at family Christmas dinner? Scandalous, Jake,” She laughs at his face that is set in a hard line at her joke.

“Don’t act like you don’t smoke just as much as I do, I’ve seen you at parties.” Jake says quickly, trying to discern whether she’ll tell his parents on him. Sometimes it felt like they were almost friends, comrades in their adolescence.

She laughs, but shakes her head before motioning for him to pass her the cigarette. He obliges and she takes a drag, the smoke instantly warms her up from the inside out.

“You and your brother are dicks, you know that,” She muses after a few silent moments of them passing the cigarette between the pair.

Jake kicks at the ground for a second after dropping the cigarette to the group, knowing it was done.

“I feel like it’s him more than me, though,” He mumbles, “Your face is just so… cute when you’re upset, for what it’s worth.” He decides to add, the darkness making him brave.

She definitely would agree that Josh made her more angry than Jake. Jake’s teasing was never extensive if he was without his twin. This maybe should have clicked something in her brain, but as a 17 year old, she really wasn’t as smart as she thought she was.

“Right,” is all she says.

Maybe if Jake had been braver that night, she would have finally understood why the twins teased her so much. There were plenty of times that school year when Jake and Josh both got close to saying it, for leaning in, for doing the thing. But they were 17 and stupid and teenagers didn’t really understand exactly what to call the feelings they had inside of them. Plus, she probably would’ve punched them in the nose if either of them had actually made a move. In her eyes, they really were just the next door neighbors who were absolute idiots and who tormented her to no end.

Looking back on it, she recognized a bit more of those tell tale signs that a boy like the Kiszkas had a crush on her in high school. At 25, she was sure shit like that didn’t linger around. Now, Josh was just an asshole to her because he liked to be, she was sure of it.

For two days, she is free of seeing the Kiszkas, or she guessed just Josh now. But either way, she was free from annoyances. She had gotten a little more acquainted with the cold weather again and her family wasn’t being too naggy about everything she did. It was good to see Joe again and spend time with everyone, just the six of them – since their family included Heather’s husband now.

The third day, she isn’t so lucky. Her mother informed her the night before that they were set to be doing their annual gingerbread house decorating with the Kiszkas at their house. She didn’t even try to get out of it, knowing better than trying to find an excuse for this event. It entailed each child to make a house because it had started when they were children and everyone wanted their own house. Now their parents insisted on it because they had grown used to it and there was no point in arguing with their mothers even though everyone thought it was a waste of materials and time now. Not everyone, but definitely Y/N and she knew Sam was one her side about it, too.

The Kiszkas are loud. She knew this from years of experience confirming this fact over and over again. But today, the house is somehow louder than ever before which she thought was impossible since they were no longer shrieking eight year olds. Maybe her ears were just more sensitive now. Still, the music was blaring from the expensive stereos in the family room when she walked in. Ronnie is yelling at Sam about stealing a sweater. Jake is laughing too loudly at something Josh just said, a grin still evident on his face as he beams at his brother. Karen is in the kitchen with Y/N’s mom making sure all of the houses are stable enough to be decorated.

She walks lazily into the dining room, head down, not looking to speak with anyone as Heather talks with her husband and Joe hugs Sam and begins talking about Japan with him. She feels Josh’s presence before he speaks, but she doesn’t look up. Not particularly interested on staring at his curls or his very well trimmed goatee and mustache up close. She thinks about how unfair it was that she had been in a family that was friends with famous musicians, but not musicians that she particularly cared about. Why couldn’t it have been Phoebe Bridgers’ family who had been her next door neighbors. She would’ve loved that. But no she had to be born in fucking Frankenmuth.

“Look,” Josh starts and her gaze finally meets his face, when he realizes she isn’t going to look up unless he says something. “I am sorry I was a dick at the tree lot. I understand that my brothers both apologized for me and that just…felt weird not to say it myself.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?” He raises a brow and she watches it disappear beneath his fluffy hair rather comically.

Her lips press into a thin line, she knew he wasn’t sincere. She hadn’t said anything to Jake’s apology and he had been kind, she tells Josh ‘okay’ and he gets upset.

Before anymore words can be exchanged, their moms rush in and tell the children to take their seats, despite everyone being adults. The youngest were both 22. Jake brings out a whole ice chest of beer and places it in the corner, near the head of the table, where he sits, right beside Y/N. He grins and passes her a can, wordlessly, and she nods appreciatively.

“Joshua, go sit right there, please,” Karen says when he’s the last one standing somehow, despite him being one of the first people in the room.

Right there. Right where? Oh, right. Right next to Y/N, the last open seat. It was fine. She could be between the twins throughout this ordeal. They weren’t kids anymore. They were adults. And Jake had apologized and just given her beer, so they were good. And Josh had…well, he tried at least, but only because his pride wouldn’t let his brothers apologize for him. She was pretty sure she was going to be sick.

Jake gets caught up with Heather as they decorate the gingerbread houses, so that really only leaves Josh as a possible conversational partner, considering once her sister started talking about Alaska, it was hard to talk about anything else.

“I can’t believe you won’t accept my apology,” Josh hisses in an angered whisper to her, trying to make sure no one else heard him, for once. “And I was being nice not requesting one back from you.”

She closes her eyes as she’s holding the frosting pipette. They felt like they were burning from concentrating on the little cookie house in front of her for so long and the sound of the demon beside her. After one breath she opens them and turns her head to look at Josh beside her. Her eyes bright with something he couldn’t put his finger on. He unconsciously runs his tongue over his lower lip to wet it and then bites at it. She shakes her head in disbelief.

“Requesting one from me,” She whispers back. “You’re the one who all but yelled at me for doing something nice for a child, where’s the holiday spirit, dude?”

“That was not the reason why you did it,” He throws back.

“Yes it was,” She cries a little louder, she couldn’t believe Josh thought so little of her.

“Whatever,” He sighs, his eyes flickering away from her face to something behind her for a moment, “Let’s drop it.”

She nods, but rolls her eyes at her sister when she notices her staring at her and Josh.

“Can you pass the mini gumdrops, please,” She asks after a beat of silence between her and Josh.

He was in the middle of running his hand through his hair, which she refrained from saying was gross at this moment because she knew he would probably strangle her. His left hand takes the little bag and moves it so that it sits between their two houses, still slightly closer to his, but she again wasn’t going to mention it. Trying to be an adult was so damn hard with him.

By the time the gingerbread houses are getting close to being finished and their moms have taken enough photos to fill three photo albums, she was four beers in and fully relaxed. Josh and she had actually chatted aimlessly for a bit of the decorating time without being unpleasant with one another. She wouldn’t categorize it as pleasant either, but it was definitely bearable. The buzz of the alcohol might have helped with that. Still, she counted it as a win. She also refused to speak of the times when her and Josh were sharing a decoration, like the mini gumdrops, and their hands had grazed against one another. They were split seconds in time, when his warm fingers would touch her cold ones and one of them would pull away like they had been burned. She didn’t notice the terrible blush that would turn up on the tops of Josh’s cheeks when it would happen because why would she be looking at him.

It’s Christmas Eve eve when she finds herself in the presence of Josh Kiszka once again. And once again, she’s wondering why her family hates her so much. She’s sitting in her Dad’s old pick up truck that disturbingly says “fight crime shoot back” and Josh is in the driver’s seat. The heat doesn’t work very well – it allegedly blew some hot air, but not enough for any person who wanted to live – so they both have an old blanket over their legs and it’s too small so she’s in the middle seat, right beside him. Fate was a cruel lover.

This happened after ten minutes of back and forth over who really deserved the blanket and finally she had relented to sitting beside him just for the time being so that neither of them had to go without the extra warmth as they drove to the supermarket a half hour before it closed for the holiday – in Frankenmuth, stores were closed all day on Christmas Eve somehow. The pair had been sent on the last minute grocery store run for both the families for some reason. Her mother had said that no one else was available because they had other tasks, present wrapping, cooking prep for Christmas Eve, etc. etc. She likely wasn’t assigned present wrapping since her mom didn’t particularly like the way she would wrap presents so that explained that one at least. Still, it felt like a punishment, especially being required to go in the truck which she put her foot down at driving in the new snowfall. How Josh was assigned to this task was also questionable, it possibly was due to the fact that everyone had their fill of Josh’s ramblings for the night, which her reply was why did that mean he should be sent with her. But sent with her, he was.

“See, sharing is caring.”

She shakes her head at Josh’s silly grin as he looks at her shivering body tucked almost against him. She wouldn’t admit it but being beside him allowed her to leech from his own personal heat supply that seemed unending.

“I hate you, I really do.”

“You say it, but it just doesn’t pack the same punch it used to,” He remains smiling. She decides to stay quiet.

He fiddles around the case of CDs her Dad keeps in the car and finds exactly what he’s looking for. The serendipitously named Back Home Again album by John Denver. His fingers deftly open the worn plastic case and slips out the disc carefully and slips it into the reader. The machine wirs a bit as it recognizes there’s a CD inside now and gets to work playing throughout the car. She watches him complete the task and can’t help but smile at the opening notes of the first song, eponymously “Back Home Again”. He smiles at her and she can’t bring herself to frown at him. John Denver’s voice was too sweet. His voice made her feel a little warmer and Josh’s eyes glint from the street light outside the car as he puts the car into drive. She turns to look out her window, taking in the words.

“Hey, it’s good to be back home again…sometimes this old farm feels like a long lost friend.”

She thinks back on those times when she had told Josh she hated him in high school and the feeling she had when she said it at the time. Maybe he was right that she didn’t feel that way anymore. Her words were empty memories now. It’s the little things. They were saying the same words, but they clearly weren’t the same people they were. What was stopping her from being friends with the guy who also loved John Denver. She wanted nothing more to hate him, it felt like that’s who she was supposed to be but in this moment she couldn’t play the part. Not with him softly singing along to the words. Not shouting louder than John’s voice for once. It made her turn back to him. His voice was beautiful too, it was an unequivocal fact. His eyes focused on the road as the windshield wipers swiped the snow from the glass in front of them. His hair perfectly flowing around his face and framing it. He was attractive in a way she had never seen in anyone else – besides his siblings obviously, but even then it was slightly more. He had a glow that was undeniable, even in the dark of the winter night.

“Why are you staring at me?” He finally asks, just above John Denver singing “Matthew” now.

“You’re right.”

“What was that?” He tilts his head to her, his eyes lighting up at the frown she does give him this time. He could be so difficult with her.

“I guess I don’t really hate you, it was really easy to do in high school, because, you know, you deserved it. But now,” she trails off as the mischievous expression on Josh’s face switched to his serious one, showing he was actually listening to her.

“I know what you mean,” He says, eyes back on the road. “When Jake said you were back, I assumed everything would be the same, but it just feels exhausting to pick fights with you. Like, I am not the 16 year old idiot who has a crush on you anymore, so I don’t even know what I’m fighting for.”

She laughs at that, finally hearing Josh admit it. “You bullied me because you had a crush on me? So cliché, Joshua.”

He smiles a rather sweet smile, one that she never saw directed at her. It was genuine and it was filled with malice, it was kind. He loved when she called him his full name, it felt so nostalgic, in the best way.

“Hey! I was a stupid boy, I said that. It’s not like you made it easy not to like you, you were so cool. Teasing was the only way to get your attention, you never gave me the time of day otherwise.”

“I’ll take the compliment, but for what it’s worth, I was a nervous wreck behind that cool facade. I was obsessed with looking like I didn’t give a fuck, which is just, so paradoxical.” She smiles when he laughs now.

“You had me fooled,” He says, “I remember one time talking about you to Jake when we were in high school and I was so in awe that not only did you read Nietzsche for fun, but you also pronounced his name right and didn’t misspell it.”

“God, I was so pretentious reading philosophy books for fun,” She laughs at herself now, finding it funny that she had also remembered a similar memory just the other day.

“No, no,” He insists, “And you were the reason I started listening to more of the Doors and George Harrison’s solo stuff because I would hear you blasting both of them from your bedroom. And Twin Peaks, I remember you mentioning that you watched the show one time and I went and rented it from Betty’s because it wasn’t on Netflix.”

“Oh my god,” She says in disbelief, but Josh’s sparkling grin is present on his face when he raises his bushy brows in insistence that it was the truth.

Soon the car is filled with laughter from both of them as they recount high school memories. Mostly Josh explaining more moments in their youth when he was really just trying to communicate his crush to her and she got mad instead. He was being so sweet right then. Telling her all the nice things he thought about her when they were kids with no embarrassment. It felt really good to hear all of it because sometimes she didn’t always think the best of herself. But if someone could’ve liked her even in her adolescence, then that meant that she was worthy of love now – by others and herself. She saw so much goodness in Josh that she hadn’t before, teenage idiocy blinding her from it before. But that car drive to the supermarket seemed like a restart for them because she realized just how much they had in common. God bless the angelic voice of John Denver for softening her up.

Their families stare at them confusedly when they walk back into the house, arms filled with groceries and laughter on their lips. She shrugs at her sister and Josh winks at Jake, a smug smile on his lips when his twin looks at him in slight confusion. At the store they had giggled up and down the store aisles and on the ride home they had promised to explore this new friendship while they had the chance. Neither of them acknowledged how they would be leaving in a week or how their stomachs flipped a little in a way that was a bit more than friendly when they looked at each other.

She laughed on Christmas Eve when her brother prodded her for information on why all of sudden her and Josh were seemingly friends.

“I know you’ll just go running your mouth to Sam and end up embarrassing me, so the answer is no comment.”

Christmas Eve dinner is just her family which she is happy about initially and then sad at the thought that she wasn’t going to get to see Josh. How quick things can change. But soon enough it’s Christmas day and their families are set to do their annual Christmas dinner, that started at 3pm. She spends a little extra time on her makeup and adds some golden glitter just below her eyes and up slightly on her cheekbones. Her dress is black and understated, but it fits her perfectly, accentuating all of the right places. The dress has a low neck as it as a collar and buttons down the front. Instead of a necklace, she puts on her Dad’s old bolo tie that he gave to her when she said she wanted one. It was a light brown braided cord with a silver eagle and matching engraved tips. The tips laid just between her breasts, where the dress parted. Since they’d be staying inside the warm house tonight, she doesn’t bother with tights and chooses matching brown high heeled round tip boots since she’d left her cowboy boots in California even though they would have perfectly completed the look she was going for.

When the Kiszkas arrive, she was one beer in, her parents saying they had to wait for the Kiszkas to open the champagne, which usually would have made her roll her eyes, but now it just made her slightly giddy.

Josh walks in and he’s wearing an outfit she guesses was the only thing he owns. It seemed to be the only thing he’s worn this entire week, besides a few Christmas sweaters that his mom had obviously given him. It’s a long sleeve crewneck style white shirt and dark skinny khaki pants and slip on white vans. He takes off his winter overcoat and it reveals that he has on a long silver necklace today instead of the usual wooden beads. He must be feeling festive. He places down the salad bowl he had carried over and crosses to her at the edge of the kitchen when he sees her.

They smile simultaneously and she doesn’t miss how his eyes sweep over her outfit. She takes an inconsequential step backwards, but it effectively takes them into the hallway away from the rest of their families without being conspicuous.

“That dress is fantastic,” He breathes.

“You think?” She asks before giving a twirl.

“Yeah, where did you get it? It looks like it was made for you.” His eyes still on her figure, not a single shy bone in this man’s body.

She smiles at the words and runs her hands over the fabric, showing it off a little more than the occasion called for, but Josh wasn’t complaining either. His eyes taking her in in her entirety, letting her have her moment.

“I thrifted it, would you believe?”

“Wow, that’s just, amazing,” He looks to her face again finally when she stops preening from his gaze. “And the glitter… I think I might need some of that.”

“Really?” She asks, but she can tell he means it from the look on his face. It makes her eyes light up with complete joy. “C’mon,” she beckons for him to follow her and quickly turns to go to her room.

She takes the glitter from her makeup bag and turns to Josh who followed quick behind her. Her hands hold up a white glitter and the same gold glitter she has on her face. He stares at both and then back at her face. She bites her lip, refraining from the unbridled giggle her chest wants to let out at his happy face.

“Which one do you think? The white would match your outfit and it would reflect rainbow when it hits the light. Gold will match with me.”

“Ooh,” Josh’s eyes widen at the decision. “Let’s match, but I want to see the white in action sometime.”

“Deal,” She agrees. She motions for him to sit on the edge of her bed so she can apply the glitter for him. He complies and she sits beside him, one of her legs folding beneath her as she goes. Their faces are level as she unscrews the cap and dips her finger into the pot. “Dots, lines or like mine?”

“Surprise me,” He says, his warm brown eyes piercing hers, seemingly looking deep into her soul. She nods and he lifts his chin and closes his eyes, settling in to her taking charge. It would be so easy to lean in and kiss him on his soft looking lips right now. She pushes the thought away.

Her right middle finger goes to his cheek, right beside his sculpted nose. She presses down lightly and he refrains from humming from her soft touch. He can smell her perfume, which smells like lavender and cream, like the cleanest sheets on earth. Her finger moves down ever so slightly and then pulls away. She repeats the motion four times on each side of his face, the last one on the outer edge of his eye going down the longest. She’s done for about thirty seconds before she actually tells Josh she’s done and in those thirty seconds, she gets to admire just how radiant he is. His face peaceful yet glowing, not just because of the glitter, but it does add to it.

When he looks in her little desk mirror that she holds up to him, he laughs heartily, his top row of teeth making a full appearance. She gets to see the little gap in his two front teeth and she finds it terribly endearing. She had gone so soft for this man in no time, it was a little embarrassing, but as long as she didn’t tell anyone, who cared.

“Thank you,” Josh says sincerely. “It’s a Christmas miracle.”

She quirks a brow at him, “What is?”

“This. Us. I wouldn’t have thought just four days ago that you’d be putting glitter on for me as we hide away from our families at Christmas dinner. It’s funny.”

“Blame John Denver, he made me feel really sentimental in my dad’s truck the other night.”

Josh laughs at that. “He really is a miracle worker.”

Then they say simultaneously, “He’s the best.”

It’s silent for a moment. Just the two staring at one another, inches away on her bed, smiling like they’ve never been happier. Josh darts his tongue out to wet his lips and his eyes flicker from her eyes down to her lips which are still spread in a smile. Maybe both of their heads inch forward inperceptibly.

But then there’s a call from somebody down the hall. “Josh! Y/N! It’s champagne time! Stop…whatever it is that you’re doing?” The last part is a question because not a soul in their families really understood what was going on with them, but they also didn’t want to question it too much as there was finally peace between the households. No angry tension at the dinner table for the first Christmas ever. It was going to be fantastic.

“Maybe some champagne and caviar?” Josh says with a smile and a single brow raise, smoothly recovering from whatever it was that almost just happened.

She simpers and offers her hand out to him to help him stand. He doesn’t need it but takes it nonetheless. His palm is smooth and warm in hers and he squeezes it to envelop hers.

“Why are your hands always so cold, mama?” He says quietly, it was just above a whisper.

Her expression shows her surprise at the nickname, another thing she had seen Josh say, but never directed at her. She finds herself basking in the warmth the name fills her with. His fingers rubbing at her soft skin remind her of his question as she refocuses on his eyes. They were almost the same height with her boots on, which didn’t seem to bother Josh. She liked seeing him from this angle, his hair sitting in a way that she could see the glint of his small golden hoops in his ears, in a way that was unfamiliar.

She hums in thought, it wasn’t like they were outside so she couldn’t blame it on the weather. “I just run cold, I guess.”

“I’m happy to warm you up,” He offers and the deeper meaning is clear as she purses her lips and pulls herself from him reluctantly, knowing someone will come into her room if they don’t emerge soon. Even though she doesn’t say anything, Josh knows she understands from the look she chances at him again as she walks out of the room ahead of him.

That night at dinner is filled with stolen glances and fingers brushing against each other as they reach past one another for salt shakers and platters. Jake arches an eyebrow at her and she simply shrugs in response. Her mother comments on Josh’s glitter and he praises Y/N’s handiwork, saying he felt filled with the Christmas spirit with it on. When each of them tell jokes the other laughs a little harder than is probably necessary but no one says anything about it. Sam and Joe share a fleeting look.

After dinner she slinks off to the living room, reclining herself onto the couch, hands twiddling with the champagne flute in her hand. The little charm on it was a penguin with a green scarf. She fiddles with it for a moment before tilting her head back and taking a sip of the bubbly liquid. Her eyes slip closed, savoring the taste. When they reopen, Josh has appeared beside her, standing quietly, watching her move. He beams at her and the glitter looks like the radial lines that reflect off the sun.

She motions for him to sit beside her, scooting over just slightly. He places his body snug between the armrest of the couch and her, the space that she provided for him was minimal, but perhaps on purpose. He doesn’t complain at the proximity.

“Sam said something the other day about you trying to take a break from your big frontman personality,” She says after a moment of silence and Josh turns to look at her, his eyes slightly widened at her words, “What does that even mean? You seem like the same guy as the one on the stage, granted from the little that I’ve seen. If I’m honest, I’ve avoided anything to do with your band as much as possible. I hate when people figure out I’m even from Frankenmuth these days.”

His lashes flutter softly as he blinks at her words, a soft chuckle falling from his lips. His tongue darts across his lips before he reopens his eyes, he exhales a quiet sigh. “I just never want it to become an act. The me on stage. I always want to feel that way, but there’s so much more to it than just Josh from Greta Van Fleet on stage, there’s me in interviews and everything else. People just except so much. It feels like they forget I’m only human.”

She twists her lips into a sad smile, her free hand instinctively goes up to his shoulder closest to her. Her hand pets down the soft cotton of his shirt. It rests on his forearm and lingers there with a gentle squeeze.

“I’m sorry I didn’t always see you as a human. I feel like I was also quite hard on you when I have no idea what your life is really like. Just assumptions.”

“I forgive you, as long as you forgive me too.”

Her eyes shut as she smiles self consciously. Josh’s eyes are too bright as they look at her. It’s like the sun is staring at her. She both is simultaneously being pulled into it and wanting to run and hide away. But the urge to be pulled in is far greater. When she reopens them, he’s still staring at her, but his face is much closer. She nods when he gives her a look of needing some reassurance. The right side of his plush mouth curls up in a half smile before fluttering his eyelashes closed and leaning in. She watches it, this stolen moment before the fall. Before it all changes, she allows herself to watch him look so lovely as he gets closer to her than ever before. They’re unobserved as his lips brush lightly against hers and at the touch her eyes finally relent, closing as well. She is hyperaware of every small movement Josh makes against her. His nose is warm and softer than she knew to be possible as it nudges against the small indent between hers and her cheek. She feels his breath as he sighs softly into the kiss. Then he pulls back just the smallest bit, his forehead ever so lightly touching hers, their lips don’t touch but when he speaks they brush up against each other once more.

“Maybe you won’t try to hide that you know me anymore.”

She nods emphatically, laughing a little at herself when both their heads move. She covers it up by pressing her lips to his again, with a little more force. Their lips move against one another with brushes and sighs and soft timid licks against each other that make each other giggle childishly. Josh’s hands had traveled up to rest on the side of her neck and the other lightly cupping her jaw. Her’s had slithered onto his chest and ocilated between right over his upper chest and the dip in his collarbones that felt so deliciously warm, she couldn’t stop her hands from moving if she wanted to.

“And maybe,” Josh whispers against her lips, a hint of something in his words, “You can stop telling people I’m not cool.”

She laughs and bites her slightly swollen lips, pinkened from Josh’s attention. “But you aren’t… or at least not as cool as me.”

“That’s fair, I guess,” He laughs along, the hand that was on her jaw traveling to swirl around some of her hair. His fingers playing with it absently as they stare into each other’s eyes now, happy to just have gotten here.

“What the actual fuck is going on in here?!” A voice sounds from across the room and both of them whip their heads to it.

Sam is standing in the doorway with a fresh cocktail in his hands, mouth agape and the biggest eyes she’s ever seen. “I fucking knew it,” He follows his own exclamation and turns on his heels and walks back out. She wants to turn into a puddle of embarrassment, but Josh’s unwavering calmness grounds her when she looks back to him. It makes her smile.

“Happy Christmas,” He winks, “You think we’ll ever hear the end of this?”

“Not a chance.”

[thefanficmonster]

A Little Childish

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: FLUFF

Summary: Corpse and Y/N go to visit Y/N’s parents for New Year’s. Corpse was promised good food, good company and A LOT of snow. Needless to say, the place didn’t disappoint - quite the contrary actually, it exceeded any and all expectations he had.

Requested by @waterflowersposts Hi there! Sorry for how long it took for this fic to be written :( I hope the final result makes up for the long wait! I also thought it would be appropriate to post it during the holiday season, so I hope you don’t mind. Hope you enjoy the read and I’m looking forward to hearing your feedback and any more requests you may have. Stay safe! Happy Holidays! Love, Vy ❤

I watch as Corpse is basically floating from one room into another in our shared apartment as he’s throwing random articles of clothing in his open suitcase. I have already packed my bags, knowing full well what the appropriate attire is for where we’re going.

I look away from my laptop when Corpse comes in for maybe the sixtieth time today, this time carrying a white tee causing me to chuckle. “Corpse, I know it’s very trademark for you, but the only way you’ll be wearing that when we get there is under a sweater for some extra warmth. I’m not looking forward to having my boyfriend freeze in my parent’s house.”

He smiles, looking at the shirt in his hands, and shakes his head, “Fine, guess I’ll do without it for a week or two.” He throws it in our room, not even bothering to check where it’ll land before he comes to sit down next to me on the couch, “Keep in mind, you have set my expectations pretty high up there. If I am not waist deep in snow the second we step off the plane, I’ll be disappointed.”

I give him a side glance, a smirk playing on my lips. Must say, taking on challenges you know you’re gonna win is the ultimate high-and-mighty feeling. “Honey, you’ve got a big snowstorm coming.”

                                                               *  *  *

All throughout our trip - I’m talking the drive to the airport AND the flight over - I have kept my eyes glued to Corpse, observing as his eyes sparkled more and more with each foot we got closer to our destination. He has told me the most snow he has seen was less than an inch and I immediately felt it was my duty to change that by introducing him to the magic of Canada - my home. My parents own a getaway cottage in the mountains of Calgary where we used to go every holiday season. My earliest memory is playing in the thigh-deep snow with my older sister and crying whenever our parents had to drag us back inside. 

The West Coast of the US was a rather odd surrounding for me, having grown up surrounded by snowy mountains, experiencing Christmas with no snow whatsoever was a true let down and underwhelming feeling. Since Corpse and I started dating about a month after Christmas time last year this will be our first time spending the holidays together and Corpse was more than enthusiastic to visit Canada when I mentioned how much I enjoyed my winters there. We couldn’t go for Christmas, but we’ll be there for New Year’s Eve and the first two weeks of 2021 and I am really excited. I have been dying to see my family that has actually expanded since the last time I visited - my sister has had yet another baby, making her and her husband parents of three very energetic toddlers. The six year old twins - Ashley and Alex - and the three year old Andrew. Or, as I like to call them: The 3 As.

I have warned Corpse about them like seven times despite the fact that he’s already familiar with their energy, convincing him that if that’s more than he can handle we’ve still got time to cancel the trip. He didn’t bat an eye though, each time telling me not to worry and focus my attention on reliving the moments I’ve missed so greatly instead of making sure he was having a good time.

“If you’re there...“ he said, “I’ll sure as hell be having a good time.“

One step out of the airport and he’s already mesmerized. His eyes are shiny reflecting the glow of the snow all around. It’s gonna be funny to see his reaction when he witnesses the real deal - the snow in the mountains. This compared to that is a pathetic excuse.

“I know it’s not waist-high, but that’s because they shovel it and melt it.“ He is looking around, not paying much mind to my words. The utter amazement and disbelief on his face just makes me want to wrap my arms around him and kiss him. He’s simply adorable! I see fragments of the child in him swimming up to the surface in the form of temptation - temptation every kid feels when they see snow: Dive in and lose track of time. “Wait till we get to the cottage.“

This manages to catch his attention, “You weren’t kidding.“

I laugh at my precious kiddy boyfriend. “Whoa there, Corpsie. If your mind is already blown, I’m worried about how you’ll react to the real deal.“ 

I have a feeling I know exactly how he’ll react cause I react similarly - I set the child in me free. After all, no parent can tell you to stop playing and go inside when you are a 23-year-old.

                                                             *  *  *

Walking up to the cottage from the cable-car station has to be the first time I’ve breathed with my lungs’ full capacity in the last five years. The sharp cold air screams ‘home’ to me like nothing else ever did. I am still surprised as to how my sister prefers summer. My family jokes I’m a winter wolf in disguise and I think they’re right. I do like to roll around in the snow much like a wolf. No judgement! Having a few extra years added to my age doesn’t change everything.

“Oh. My. Fucking. God.“ If I could take a shot every time Corpse has repeated this phrase I’d be dead due to liver failure. He is absolutely stunned. And I’m pretty sure he hasn’t blinked at all. Who am I to talk - I haven’t either. These mountains keep getting prettier and prettier, I swear. Taking my eyes off them would be a crime.

“Told you. I wish we made a bet, I could’ve made some easy money.“ I tease him, gently bumping my elbow against his as we walk up the trail.

“I’m glad I didn’t propose such a thing. That would’ve been fucking stupid of me.“ Judging by the tone of his voice, he is not really present in this conversation, so I decide not to let it go on any longer.

Not that I could’ve done differently, seeing as how barely three seconds latter I see three smiling faces coming at me at max speed.

Oh boy.

“Auntie Y/N!“ Ashley and Alex arrive first of course, wrapping their arms tightly around my waist. Little Andrew stumbles his way to me as quickly as a three year old possibly could.

Without wasting a second, I put my bags down and crouch so I can hug them properly. “Hi my babies! I haven’t seen you in so long.” Their hugging strength surprises me and warms my heart at the same time. The twins pull away, leaving room for the little duckling in a jacket two times his size and weight. “Hi Andrew! I nice to meet you! I’m auntie Y/N. Mommy and daddy have told you about me, haven’t they? If not I’ll kick their asses.”

“Y/N, I swear, I’ll tell Amy you’re teaching her kids swears at a very early age.“ Corpse says teasingly, stealing the attention from all four of us.

“She curses like a sailor, these kids probably know more swear words than I do.“ Ash and Alex run straight out of my grasp and to Corpse, proceeding to hug him around the waist as they did with me. They met Corpse when my sister and her husband Finn visited me back in the summer. They immediately fell in love with him. I specifically remember Alex telling me I have a ‘really cool boyfriend‘ and he only uses the word ‘cool‘ when he really likes something or someone. Corpse was honorably declared cool by Alex and that still warms my heart till this day.

“Hi guys, long time no see!“ He too crouches down to hug the little demons that immediately cling to him like koalas.

I scoop up the bundle of clothes with a face and stand up, balancing him on my hip. “Let’s attempt to get inside, shall we?” With my unoccupied arm I grab the handle of my suitcase.

Corpse nods and follows my lead, picking up the bags he also left in the snow. Ash and Alex bolt it back to the house while we struggle to follow, lowkey embarrassed by the pace we’re walking with.

Andrew struggles against me, reaching out towards Corpse. I look at them both apologetically. “You’ll meet Corpse when we get inside, darling. Chill out.”

“Y/N!“ My sister’s voice steals my attention. She emerges from the house, followed by the twins, a huge smile on her face. Her eyes land on Andrew who has calmed down is now resting his head on my shoulder sleepily, “Oh I’m so sorry about them, Y/N. I didn’t know they would charge at you the second you stepped foot on the property.“

Amy motions for me to give her her son but I hand her my suitcase instead. When she takes it I use my now freed arm to hug her as tightly as I possibly can with one arm and while balancing a baby on my chest. “It’s ok! I couldn’t have dreamed of a better welcoming.” I release, giving her a big smile.

She loses interest in me and goes to hug Corpse, taking a bag from him as well before giving him a hug. “Oh my God, Corpse, it feels like it’s been forever. I’m so glad to see you.”

“Happy to see you too, Amy.“ My sister has never liked a single guy I’ve dated. EVER. Corpse is the only one she warmed up to and that’s a huge deal to me. Corpse’s happiness when I told him that was something I’d pay to have filmed just so I can watch it every time I’m feeling down.

“Let’s get you both inside, you must be freez-“ She cuts herself off, rolling her eyes at me, “Of course, you’re not.“

I laugh and blow her a kiss as we keep carrying onward.

“Um, guys?“ Corpse’s voice makes me pause and turn around. He’s still standing in the same spot, looking- unsettled, I guess you could call it.

“What’s wrong?“ I walk over to him, taking his hand in mine.

His hand automatically gives mine a reassuring squeeze, “Nothing really, it’s just that...I’m meeting your parents for the first time and-...What if they don’t like me?”

I open my mouth to go off and start stating the obvious that they indeed won’t like him. They will LOVE him. It’s impossible not to love this man! But my sister beats me to it when it comes to stating the facts.

“Look, Corpse, they already love you. Heck, sometimes I feel like they have known Finn and you longer than they have known Y/N and I! They speak so highly of you and haven’t even met you - that should tell you more than enough about how they see you.“ She waves her hand towards the cottage, “Now walk in there and blow them away.“

Honestly, I’m glad Amy beat me to it. I couldn’t have said it better myself. 

And just like that, hand in hand, Andrew still in my other arm, we walk in.

                                                             *  *  *

Corpse is officially the main attraction, stealing the spotlight from Amy, Finn and I - something the three of us are incredibly thankful for. Amy was right with every word she said - my parents are absolutely in love with Corpse. Luckily for Finn and Amy, the 3 As are all over him as well. Especially Andrew. The second someone sets him down he just waddles his way over to Corpse who picks him up and settles him in his lap while he answers my parents’ questions. 

When the kids were finally talked into taking a nap, Corpse and I snuck out to have a little walk in the snow and, of course, take some pictures. I made it my personal goal to make as many artsy and aesthetic photos of him as possible. His favorite - a hand only pic of him holding a snowball - was my idea and I think I have never felt prouder of myself.

“I am definitely posting this one.“ He says, turning the phone so I can see the screen. I give it a quick glance, thinking he’s talking about the hand pic but do a double take when I realize it’s a picture of me that he has taken without my knowledge.

I actually look rather decent, so I give him a green light in the form of a big thumbs up, “As long as you post the hand one too.”

“Hey, Y/N!“ We look back at the house which isn’t far from where we are right now. Amy is hugging the jacket tightly around herself as she approaches us with fast steps. “You know where we haven’t been in like forever?“

I raise an eyebrow and shake my head as I rack through my brain trying to dig up what she’s referring to. It could literally be any place on this mountain!

“Hello! The Waterless Lake? Ring any bells?“

Oh...it sure does.

Brief explanation: it is a huge circular dip in the ground which fills with water when the snow melts and becomes a lake but empties by the time winter comes back around. That being said, when the snow is still not melted, it’s an absolute wonderland to play in. I suddenly remember all the barrel-rolling Amy and I did there as kids and feel really nostalgic.

“Oh God, yes! I miss that place!“ I say, snapping out of my reminiscing trance. “Let’s go while it’s still light enough.”

“Finn is making dinner right now, or trying to at least.“ She rolls her eyes, turning to Corpse, “But it’d be our pleasure if you tagged along, Corpse.“

Corpse shakes his head, “I’ll politely decline. You ladies can reminisce and chat in peace, while I’ll be helping Finn in the kitchen.” He gives me a quick peck on the lips before excusing himself, “Have fun!”

“You too!“ We call back to him in unison.

Amy gives me an amazed, wide-eyed look, “He can cook?”

I shrug my shoulders nonchalantly, smirking, “Oh, you have no idea.”

She laughs, linking arms with me as we begin walking our way to the Waterless Lake. The place probably has a different name or no name at all, but we named it that as kids and never told our parents where it was. It’s our spot, and it is very surprising Amy offered Corpse to accompany us there.

“Sis, you are very lucky. I hope you know that.“ She tightens the hold on my arm with hers, pulling us closer together.

“I tell myself that every time I look at him, Aims. I am fully aware.“ I say dreamily, recalling all the times I’ve spent with Corpse. Almost one full year and I could never imagine that year, nor the upcoming ones, without him.

                                                                *  *  *

Upon returning, we’re met with the most wholesome scene I have ever seen - Corpse and Finn are making snowmen with the 3 As. It seems like they’ve been at it for a while, considering there is an army of snowmen of different designs, shapes and sizes all at different spots throughout the perimeter of the clearing in front of the house.

“Oh dear Lord.“ Amy mumbles, “I had a feeling this would happen.“

The five snowman-builders don’t even acknowledge our presence when we approach them. Ashley and Alex are running around with Finn, looking for sticks to use as the snowmen’s limbs while Corpse is helping Andrew gather as much snow as possible for the body.

I don’t realize there’s a huge smile on my face up until the point I’m trying to say something. Nothing comes out, though. My words are being muffled by all the overwhelming emotions that have taken over - collapsing my senses. 

With a roll of her eyes, my sister opens the front door, taking a step into the house. The second the door opens, however, I get a whiff of the delicious smell coming from inside. Best guess, and probably the right one - this is Corpse’s doing. 

If I wasn’t already hungry, I sure as hell am now and I’m in no mood to be in that delicious food’s proximity without attacking it. 

“Come on, guys! Dinner time! Get your butts inside!“ I call out to them from the doorway.

Corpse turns to look at me with the sneakiest smirk I have ever seen. He narrows his eyes at me, “You have done the very thing you despise!”

It takes me approximately three seconds to connect the dots and scrunch up my face, picking up all the snow I can an forming it in a snow ball, throwing it at Corpse. Growing up doing this exact thing has given me great aim, therefore I hit Corpse square in the chest.

“Oh you’re so in for it now.“ He laughs, picking up snow to form his own snowball.

“Snowball fight!“ Ashley yells, ditching the sticks to make a snowball for herself.

“Oh no...“ I poke my head in the hallway just as a snowball hits my upper arm, “Aims, I need your help!“ 

Before Amy can respond, I run to take cover behind the nearest snowman that, luckily for me happens to be one of the larger ones. I hear Amy call out my name when she exits the house, followed by a surprised yelp from her when three snowballs hit her. “You are all dead!”

While she is fighting blood and fire (well, water really), I am making ammunition for us both to use. I’m on my eleventh snowball when snow showers me from above as though it has fallen from a tree branch.

“Hiding, I see.“ I am still in shock, hair and upper body covered in snow, when I hear Corpse’s taunting voice.

My vengeance instinct kicks in having me grab two snowballs and turn to throw them at him. To my dismay, he’s faster then me and doesn’t allow me to even get my arm at an angle where I could throw properly. Instead, he turns me back around and picks me up with ease, one arm wrapped around my waist, another grabbing two of my prepared snowballs from the ground.

“Let’s show them who the bosses are.“ I see him wink at me from the corner of my eye and it takes me little to no time to catch onto what he’s insinuating.

In short, with joined forces, we took out the opposite team in no time - like a true couple 😉

[mercy-burning]

Payback

Summary: After Reader surprises Spencer at a BAU holiday party, he can’t stop thinking about her. Category: Fluff Word Count: 4.2k NOTE: This is my first little fic, I’ve had this idea for a while now and I’ve always wanted to write it, so please let me know what you think! I hope you like it! And if there’s anything I should include in the before/summaries of my stuff in the future, please let me know! I’d love to write more but I’m not sure what everyone wants to see. Thank you!

***

He could still taste peppermint. It's been 8 days and still, every time his lips press together, Spencer swears he can taste her peppermint lip gloss coating them. It's all he's been able to think about as of late.

And no sooner than he could taste her lips, he could see her face, the way her eyes had glimmered after just a glass of champagne, amused and proud of her actions. He tried not to think about how dumbfounded he must have looked, completely frozen and practically unable to function properly, let alone at all. His mind betrayed him, though only for a second before he focused on the way she'd lovingly patted his cheek and whispered, "There you go," before pressing her lips together and turning away.

The whole ordeal had only lasted no longer than five seconds, but to Spencer it had felt like a lifetime. Time had slowed to a stop and refused to move forward the very moment she grabbed his face.

Truth be told, he should have seen it coming. For years since Y/N had joined the BAU, his friends had teased him relentlessly about her. More specifically, Morgan had caught him staring at her from across the jet once upon a time, her first case with the team, and when she'd looked up and smiled at Spencer, causing him to give a small wave and immediately avert his gaze, Morgan laughed from beside him and stated, "You couldn't be more obvious if you tried, Pretty Boy."

Emily and Rossi, who were seated across from them, didn't even have to turn around to know what was happening, and the shared a knowing smile before Hotch had returned from the bathroom and started debriefing.

Spencer had tried to play it cool at first, blowing off his friends' teasing remarks and sometimes crude gestures, but deep down he knew they were all right. And if they were able to see just how badly he liked Y/N, then it was probably no secret that she'd been able to tell as well. The thought made him nervous, but in the three years since he and Y/N had come to be better friends, he'd gotten more comfortable and a little (but not by much) less blush-prone when she paid him a smile or occasionally brushed her hand against his.

Nonetheless, the teasing from the rest of the team had slowed significantly, though it hadn't entirely stopped. Every time they all got together for a dinner at Rossi's or a party for the holidays, Y/N got dressed up, and every time without fail Spencer couldn't help but admire her beauty. Of course he'd found her beautiful all the time, but there was something about the way she held herself during these events, almost like she knew she was the most stunning person in the room, that drove him crazy, and even intimidated him a little. (She's way out of my league, he'd thought to himself once.)

And every single time, either Morgan or Garcia, or pretty much anyone else, but those two specifically, would try to get him to talk to her, to ask her on a date, or to just flirt with her. But, as usual, Spencer brushed it off, and each night he would go the entire time without taking his friends' advice, much to their chagrin.

Sometimes he wished he had, that he was brave enough to say something to her, anything beyond the usual, "you look nice" before quickly changing the subject. And a few times he almost came close, but some small part of his conscience told him that she wouldn't reciprocate. That he was too weird and that she was too good for him. And then he would chastise himself for even thinking that he would have a shot, and he'd have to live with the fact that he would just be teased by his friends forever about this perfect woman that he would never have the courage to come clean to.

But all the same, he was just naïve enough to believe that he could get away that one night without any trouble.

It was the day before Christmas Eve, and Rossi had generously decided to host a small get-together before everyone would be with their families for the holidays. As usual his place was beautiful, but even more so with all the twinkling lights and garland.

The team was shuffling around the kitchen, talking amongst themselves and drinking their drinks of choice, when Y/N appeared next to Spencer, a glass of champagne in hand.

And just like every time before, he felt his heart tug at his chest as he looked at her, so close to him he could smell her perfume and feel her warmth. She wore an emerald green dress that stopped below her knees, the sleeves long and the neckline plunging down to the top of her stomach in a deep V-shape. Four thin, glittery strips of silver attached the two sides of the V together, getting smaller as they went down. Her hair was worn up, a high pony tail that tumbled in curls down the back of her head, a few strands curled and framing the sides of her face. Her eyelids glittered red and her lips were sheer and shimmering.

She practically sparkled as she spoke to him, a beacon of elegance and beauty, and it took everything inside of Spencer to resist grabbing her face and kissing her in front of all their friends.

She finished her glass of champagne as he was telling her about his holiday plans, setting the glass on the table in front of her before a squeal—no doubt from Garcia—cut him off, mostly out of concern.

"What is it?" Y/N asked for him.

Morgan and Emily came strolling up to see what the commotion was about before they laughed and fist-bumped.

"What?" Spencer repeated, thoroughly confused.

Rossi came up to join, nodding as he raised his drink. "Ah, the magic of mistletoe."

"Look up," Garcia added, pointing to the ceiling above where Spencer and Y/N were standing.

Sure enough, mistletoe was hanging above them, and though he knew what that meant, his first instinct was to talk.

"You know, the Druids came to view mistletoe as a symbol of liveliness due to the fact that it could blossom even during wintertime. In hopes of restoring fertility they would administer it to humans, and even animals."

He refused to look at Y/N. He couldn't. He knew that the second he did, he'd give himself away, if he hadn't already before. And just as he was about to spit out more facts about mistletoe, he felt time slow down.

The words caught in his throat, dissipated, and replaced themselves with the smallest of whimpers. He hoped to God she wouldn’t hear it, for fear of giving himself away even further.

Instead he froze, completely shell-shocked when Y/N reached over, grabbed his face in her hands, and turned it to meet hers, taking no time at all to press her lips against his in a burning kiss. At least, that's how it felt for him.

He wasn't sure how she was feeling, but in that moment he could only think about how his entire being burned at her touch. And though she only kissed him for no longer than three seconds, keeping the entire thing short and sweet, the taste of her peppermint flavored lip gloss lingering on his lips, the way she looked at him, and the way she patted his cheek and the way she whispered, "There you go," before turning away and taking her empty glass with her... All of it was enough to make Spencer feel like he'd just experienced Heaven itself.

She was the actual human embodiment of Heaven, he was sure of it.

So by the time he'd recovered from his haze and found it in himself to breathe again, Spencer went back to pretending he wasn't phased, because after all he was in a room with all his friends who knew better, and the more he could keep pretending, the less he would be left to think about how Y/N had completely shaken him to his core.

But now it's the night before New Year's Eve, and he'd been thinking for days now how to deal with this. Because every time she'd looked at him since then, every time she'd say his name or playfully wink at him, it drove him mad. He closed his eyes and there she was, in all her shimmering, heavenly glory, taking up every thought, every ounce of being he had to offer. She owned him and she didn't even know it.

Or maybe she did.

There was one day, December 28th to be precise, when he swore she was messing with him, gauging his reaction. First of all, she'd worn a skirt to work, which she barely ever did, not to mention it was cold and snowy, and hardly the right weather to comfortably wear one, and a tight one at that. And Y/N seemed to be particularly and unusually clumsy that day, because she'd conveniently dropped her pen in front of Spencer's desk, or accidentally spilled water on her white shirt, exposing some of her bra. And every single time, She'd looked up to see him staring at her, as he'd never been able to resist doing.

The way she talked to him was different, too, her voice almost lullaby-like. And when she'd ask a question about something she clearly knew, she bit her lip immediately afterwards, her head tilted down and her eyes fluttered up, almost like she was embarrassed to ask for help.

By the end of the day Spencer was exhausted, not to mention still overwhelmed and completely burned by her presence. And it didn't help that everyone else around him knew what was happening. The teasing then was just as relentless as it had been the first week Y/N started working with them, made worse by the fact that she'd kissed him and left him absolutely ruined.

He had to do something, or he was sure he wouldn't survive.

***

Even though the team had just been together for Christmas, once again they all found themselves gathered around a fancy setting for New Year's.

This time Y/N decided she wanted to host, since none of the team have ever been to her house. In the three years since she'd worked with them, she figured it would be a good way to ring in the new year.

Her house wasn't as big or extravagant as Rossi's—no one's was, really—but she'd made do with what elegance she had to offer.

Even though everyone was bringing a small dish to eat, Y/N wanted to go all out. So, she decided to bake two pecan pies and a chocolate chip banana bread, all that culinary training throughout her first two years of college not entirely going to waste. She'd even made complimentary cupcakes for the team, each one flavored and decorated uniquely to each new friend she'd made from her time at the BAU, their names piped on every one with icing.

For Garcia, she made a vegan lemon blueberry cupcake frosted with a homemade vegan whipped cream, complete with a little glitter and 'penny' piped in pink.

For Derek, a peanut butter mocha cupcake with chocolate frosting and decorated with gold glitter and peanut butter chips, his name piped in white.

For Emily, a red velvet with vanilla buttercream and a ring of red and white marbled frosting around it, her name piped in red.

For JJ, a chocolate cupcake filled with raspberry coulis and topped with dark chocolate buttercream, silver pearls making a circle around the outside and her name piped in pink.

Hotch's cupcake was a chocolate with coconut frosting and 'Hotch' piped in vibrant blue, along with some swirled patterns around the edges.

Rossi's was her favorite to make, simply because it was so out of the box. It was a chocolate cupcake filled and topped with maple whipped cream, sprinkled with chopped up, caramelized bacon. She hoped he'd like it, but just in case it was too unconventional, she whipped up extra cupcakes of each. That way everyone could also try different ones if they wanted.

And that left Spencer.

The whole week leading up to the party, Y/N was concocting her recipes, trying to figure out which flavors everyone would like the best. She knew that Spencer would gladly take anything she'd given him, but after the Christmas party, she wanted to give him something to remember.

Truth be told, she wasn't even going to kiss him that night. She was more than happy to let him go on about mistletoe in an attempt to avoid what everyone else so desperately wanted them to do, but right before he finished his first fact, Emily glanced at Y/N and nodded her head, mouthing "do it".

And in a split second decision, she decided screw it.

And then she kissed him.

Though Y/N wasn't sure how he would feel before she did it, she could tell almost immediately when she did that he'd wanted something like that to happen for a while, because he practically whined against her mouth. She felt it more than heard it, it was so small, but there was no mistaking that it had happened, only confirmed by the fact that he slightly leaned into her once it was happening.

And then she pulled away, and she could have swore he tried to chase after her, not wanting it to end. But shock won over, because he opened his eyes and they were as wide as she'd ever seen them, his lips parted and shimmering faintly from where her lip gloss had transferred.

Y/N didn't want him to know that she could hardly breathe, seeing him like that, feeling him embrace her action, so she'd quickly brushed it off, patted his cheek and whispered, "There you go".

In hindsight, she wasn't sure if that was the right thing to say. All the things she could have told him in the moment, and "There you go" is what came out? Really?

So she picked up her empty glass as the team laughed and clapped, putting distance between everyone to get more champagne and compose the rapid beating of her heart.

She went home that night and thought about Spencer. Naturally. She tried not to think about the small part of her brain that said he was only shocked because it was unexpected and not because he wanted her. Instead, she tried to recall every interaction they'd had together, wondering how she could have missed the obvious.

There'd been countless times where Y/N had caught him staring at her, only for him to look away and pretend like he hadn't been... And to think, every time she just thought maybe she'd had something stuck in her teeth or a stain on her shirt. She just had to think something was wrong, when in fact, everything was perfectly fine.

So she decided that after everyone went back to work, she'd test it out.

One tight skirt and a few 'accidental' mishaps later, Y/N was sure.

And so, as she laid out the cupcakes on the table, Y/N put Spencer's in the middle. It was a vanilla bean cupcake, filled with peppermint whipped cream and crushed candy canes. The peppermint whipped cream was piped on the top as well, and she topped it off with a silver shine and his last name piped in red cursive lettering. On the outside you couldn't tell it was peppermint, but he'd sure taste it. And Y/N couldn't wait to see the look on his face when he did.

Everyone started to arrive shortly after Y/N finished getting dressed. She decided on a sleeveless black velvet dress with a high neckline that fit snugly around her throat. It was tight and ended just above the knee, accentuating just about everything. She put her hair up in the same high ponytail as the Christmas party, though rather than curled, it was straight. Her makeup was simple, a little silver eyeshadow, black eyeliner, and red lipstick.

She'd just put in the second hoop earring when her doorbell rang. Y/N slipped on her black heels by the front door and opened it to find almost everyone there.

"Y/N!" Garcia's exuberance was the first thing she heard, and then she hugged her.

"Hey, guys, welcome!" she exclaimed with a smile as everyone filed in through the door, hugging her as they went on by.

"Morgan and Reid are on their way," Rossi said, handing her a bottle of wine. Blackberry merlot, her favorite.

"Man, it smells great in here," Emily noted, setting her jacket on the hook behind the door.

"Yeah, I might have went a little overboard and made everyone their own cupcakes," Y/N said. "And banana bread... and two pecan pies."

"Cupcakes?" Garcia inquired, almost devilishly.

Everyone laughed, and Y/N led the way to the dining room, where she had everything set up. In front was everyone's cupcakes lined up in a row, behind them the banana bread and the two pies on either side of it.

"Y/N, these look incredible!" JJ complimented. Everyone else agreed in unison, and it warmed Y/N's heart.

"Thanks guys. I made a few of each just in case you weren't happy with your cupcake. But you're free to have them now if you want." So she handed everyone their assigned cupcakes, explaining each of their contents and seeing their faces light up, save for Reid and Morgan, who still had yet to arrive.

And as if on cue, the doorbell rang again, and Y/N's heart almost jumped out of her chest.

"I'll go bring these out to them," she said, grabbing the remaining cupcakes and leaving her friends to enjoy.

Derek was at the door first, smiling as charmingly as ever. "Hey, Miss Thing."

"Hey, yourself," she laughed, opening the door and stepping aside for him to walk through. She handed him his cupcake after he took his coat off, setting it beside everyone else's. "I made everyone complimentary cupcakes. This one's for you. Peanut butter chocolate mocha."

Morgan's eyebrows raised and he smiled, taking the cupcake. "You didn't."

Y/N laughed again, nodding as he took a bite. "You can head inside through there, everyone else is enjoying their own."

He pulled her in for a side hug and muttered a 'thank you' through a mouth full of cupcake, making her laugh harder, before he disappeared into the kitchen.

When Y/N turned around, Spencer was taking off his coat, a smile plastered on his face. "You made cupcakes?"

She tried not to fall apart when she looked at him, his eyes as kind as ever, that smile so intoxicatingly sweet and so incredibly him. She gave him a small once-over, admiring the look he'd gone for, which consisted of black dress pants, a long-sleeved navy button down with the first few buttons opened and a tie hanging loose and open around his neck, revealing some of his chest. He'd opted to leave his hair rather messy, which was more than okay with her. If she hadn't known any better she'd say he'd just woken up, but the style choices seemed deliberate. Regardless, Y/N knew that whatever he'd shown up in would have taken her breath away.

She nodded, trying not to take too long to look him over. She held out her hands, the cupcake sitting in between them both. "Yeah, I did. Here's yours."

"You're not gonna tell me what kind it is?"

She laughed. "You'll just have to eat it and see."

"Well, thank you. It's pretty... You're pretty. Y-you look nice."

Y/N saw him take a breath right before blinking and looking down at the cupcake, peeling the wrapper away, and she almost forgot to say, "Thank you."

But she did.

And then he took a bite of the cupcake.

***

As soon as it passed his lips, Spencer knew. He'd been tasting peppermint all week, and of course that had just been him remembering the taste of her lip gloss before, but now the taste was unmistakably there.

It was the frosting, only faintly peppermint, but just enough to be highlighted against the sweet vanilla of the cupcake. The two flavors in harmony were just as much Heaven as she was.

He would have moved forward and kissed her right then had ne not already had a plan.

So, instead he nodded with a smile, swallowing the bite he'd taken and stepping forward to be closer to her. "It's amazing. Thank you."

He looked down at her, and she looked back up at him, her eyes just as beautiful as they had been the night of the Christmas party.

"You're welcome," she replied softly, eyes drifting to his lips.

Spencer smiled at her before passing her and walking to the kitchen, leaving her behind.

Little did she know, he was practically buzzing from head to toe.

***

The night passed quickly, everyone laughing, having drinks, and happily eating.

It amused Y/N that the vanilla peppermint cupcakes ended up being everyone's favorite by the end of the night. The team had no idea the reasoning behind the specific flavor, and she almost had to wonder what they'd say if they did know.

Though, she wasn't sure it mattered. Because Spencer had pretty much ignored her all night. Of course he'd talked to her if they were brought up in conversation together, but he rarely even looked at her, and in the event that he did, it felt purely platonic and unlike every other time before.

Was he ignoring her on purpose? Did he secretly hate the stunt she pulled with the cupcake and decide to punish her for it? Or maybe, she'd merely imagined the chemistry in the first place. It had all been a figment of her imagination, something her mind made up to make up for the fact that she sucked at dating and hadn't had affection from a man in years.

That last one seemed bit of a stretch, but at this point Y/N didn't rule anything out.

Eventually she shifted her focus to having fun with her friends, this found family she'd been happily apart of for three years. It was her first time hosting a get-together at her house, and she was proud to share it with them. In an effort to prove just how much it meant, Y/N made a toast right before midnight. The TV was muted, and she'd unmute it when the ball was ready to drop.

Looking around at all her friends, Y/N smiled gratefully. "I want to start this off by saying how sorry I am that it took me this long to invite you all over to my house. But hopefully I made up for it with all the sweets." A small group of laughter filled the room for a moment before she continued. "And I know New Year's is supposed to be celebrated in hopes of being a better person and bettering yourself in the future, but... I know all of you, so... That's already been taken care of. I love you guys."

"Here, here!" Rossi announced, raising his drink. Everyone else followed suit, and after taking a sip, Y/N unmuted the TV. There was about a minute left until the ball would drop, and it would be a new year.

After filling up her drink one more time, Y/N stood in the back of the living room to take in all of her friends, chatting amongst themselves as they waited for the new year to ring in.

But someone was missing.

Just as she'd thought it, Spencer showed up beside her, and she turned to smile at him. "Hey."

"That was a nice speech," he said, setting his drink down on the table beside him.

You followed suit and nodded. "Thanks. It was kind of cheesy, but..."

"No, I... I think it was sweet."

Y/N wasn't sure what else to say, so she nodded, and looked back at the TV. There was about 20 seconds left, and everyone started counting.

She started counting with them, Spencer still at her side.

"19, 18, 17, 16..."

Before she even knew what was happening, Spencer's hand brushed out against hers. She thought it was an accident, but he'd been moving closer as the seconds rolled by.

But that couldn't be. Because she'd imagined everything before, so why wouldn't she imagine this, too?

"12, 11, 10, 9, 8..."

His heart was beating so fast in his chest, he could have sworn everyone around would be able to hear it. Time was running out, and he knew that he couldn't chicken out this time. Morgan had even spent all afternoon and the entire car ride here helping him figure out how to do it properly. And if he backed out then the teasing would be relentless.

"4, 3, 2, 1..."

The second Y/N finished chanting the final number, she felt a pair of hands grab her face.

And then Spencer's mouth was on hers, even better than it'd been before. Only this time, she kept him close to her when he tried to pull away. But he was happy to oblige, and they stayed like that, lips pressed together and hands caressing each others' faces. Maybe their friends were watching them, and maybe they weren't. It didn't matter. Nothing else mattered but that kiss.

Y/N pulled away first, though she kept her forehead pressed against his. She opened her eyes and saw him looking at her, everything falling into place.

"What was that for?" she asked softly, though she didn't actually care.

"Payback," was his answer, plain and simple.

She rolled her eyes lovingly and then pressed another small, sweet kiss to his lips before they broke apart completely, and then she laughed.

"What?" Spencer asked.

Y/N ran her tongue over her bottom lip before patting his cheek. "You taste like peppermint."

[starlightrows]

Something Sweet

Chapter 1 - Spring Festival Funnel Cakes

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Series Masterlist

Pairing: Modern!Paz Vizsla x fem!reader

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: None!

Summary: Spring has sprung and business is booming and the community is celebrating with a weekend long festival... that you get to spend attending a vendors booth next to the handsome baker from down the street

The depths of winter in a place where it snows is not the ideal time to be moving your whole life and business. But you didn’t have much of a choice, you had already gotten the business license taken care of, the storefront purchased, and suppliers lined up. And with the lease on your apartment being up, it’s now or never. So with a small moving truck full of your belongings all packed up, you set off towards the city to finally chase your dream of opening a flower shop.

Your new apartment is nice, a bit smaller than your previous one but that comes with living alone in the city on a tight budget. But still it’s a one bedroom and it’s enough for just you. The storefront is beautiful. It’s located downtown in what you had assumed was a historic district of the city, but somehow is not classified as such. The buildings are lovely red brick exterior with large open windows for passers by to peek in, with quaint awnings over every door. Your store is located on the corner, with plenty of space to set up floral displays and hang potted plants in the windows. Come spring time this is going to be amazing, and beautiful and everything you dreamed of. You just hoped that others would think so too and come shop there.

By the time mid February rolls around there is still snow in the mountains, and the occasional rain and snow storm that blows through the area but it’s not as bad as when you first moved. Your apartment is coming along nicely, and your store is looking pretty good as well. You’re hoping to open by March 1st, but that’s still two and half weeks away. You’ve got plenty of time to finish painting, assembling shelves, figuring out how to want to arrange your displays, and set up the black board you’re planning to use to decorate the wall behind the checkout counter. You thought it might be fun to use chalk paint to decorate it for the various seasons, write specials, and do holiday countdowns.

You’re a little frustrated with yourself that you weren’t able to get everything in order to be open this weekend. Valentine’s Day is the prime time of the year for a flower and botanical shop. But spring is coming and that means birthdays, weddings, prom season, graduations, date nights, Mother’s Day and spring decorating! But for today it’s just you, a pair of worn overalls and a sweater, and a little can of paint for detailing the floor boards inside the shop. No flowers or valentines dates for you this year. You did see that there was a nice looking bakery a little ways down the street, maybe you could pick up a little treat for after dinner or some nice bread for making fancy toast.

Just the thought of it makes your mouth water, and your tummy rumble. Maybe you could make it an afternoon snack instead. You cap the lid to the paint bucket, and wash off your hands in the sink in the back. It’s not actively snowing but it is freezing outside, so you pull your jacket on over your sweater and lock the shop up behind you. You steal a quick glance at it, admiring how well it’s coming along, before you tuck your hands into your pockets and make your way down the street to the bakery.

It’s getting on in the afternoon, and the bakery isn’t very busy at the moment. But you’ve seen the lines in the morning when the bread is fresh out of the ovens, hopefully there will be something left for you.

You pull the door to the bakery open and step inside, glancing up at the sound of the tinkling bell that alerts the man behind the counter to your presence. He’s probably the tallest, broadest, burliest man you’ve ever seen; and then he smiles at you. It’s a smile that takes up his whole face, and lights up his eyes.

“Hey, welcome in” his voice is deep and sweet. You can literally feel your heart skip a beat and you almost forget why you came in here.

“Hi, I was hoping you might have some pastries or baguettes” you say, approaching the counter. He seems to blank out for a second, because he doesn’t answer you immediately.

“Uh- no sorry no pastries. But I do have a couple of French baguettes left,” he says. You’re a little disappointed about the pastries, perhaps you needed to come in earlier in the day. He pulls a baguette from the bread counter and offers it to you in a long parchment bag.

While he rings up your bread, you take the time to look around at his displays and other breads. “What’s your specialty?” You find yourself asking, thoroughly impressed with the wide variety he has to offer.

“I’m really proud of my ciabatta rolls,” he says earnestly “but I’ve been working on a new roasted tomato and herb crusted bread that excited about,”

You smile at his enthusiasm, it’s great to see people who are passionate about their craft. “I’ll have to come back and try it when you’ve got it figured out,”

You thank the kind man, and step back out into the cold to make your way back to your shop. Instantly you regret not asking for his name, but then again he just works down the street you’ll find out eventually.

———

February passed by in an overcast and sometimes snowy daze. You are able to meet your deadline and open your new store on March 1st. It’s finally a little sunnier on your opening weekend and just that simple fact has people outside and milling about. People are anxious to usher in spring, and there is no better way to brighten up the tail end of winter than by having fresh flowers, lush green house plants and aesthetically pleasing succulents around to decorate your space. Your entire store front is practically picked bare by the end of your first day! Good thing you get fresh deliveries every day, and have a fully stocked back room to replace all your wares for tomorrow.

Business slows down just a touch, but you’ve still got steady foot traffic for most of the day all through the spring. The weather is warming up, and the days are getting longer. Prom season is coming up and you’ve already pre cutting ribbon and bulk ordering corsage boxes. Graduations will be coming up soon too, you make sure to mark on your calendar when the local schools ceremonies are so you can have bouquets and lei ready in time.

One warm afternoon in April it’s a little slow and you’ve already swept the store, washed the windows inside and out, and potted 15 new plants in the back; so you take a well deserved break by standing behind the counter and reading a book. The bell on the door chimes and you look up to see a woman wearing jeans and a polo shirt with the city logo embroidered on the chest.

“Hi my name is Jennifer I’m with the city’s Parks and Recreation department,” she introduces herself and offers her hand to shake. You smile and accept her hand, giving your name as well.

“I’m stopping by all the local businesses to give you this” she hands you a flyer “the city’s annual spring festival is coming up at the end of May. Traditionally we bring in food trucks and invite arts and crafts vendors from the area to come sell their pieces and get some exposure, in the last couple years we’ve been expanding it to other local businesses too. There’s more information on the website to sign up to get you a booth if you’re interested. I think having a plants and flowers booth would be perfect for the spring festival”

She stays to chat about the festival for a couple minutes describing how fun it is to see all the local artists showing their craft, children getting their faces painted, live music, picnicking, and coming together as a community to celebrate the change in seasons.

“This city really comes alive at community events,” she tells you “Free concerts in the park in the summer, cultural learning events, fun runs, around the holidays we have a big Christmas tree lighting ceremony and winter carnival, don’t even get me started on how much this city goes all out for Halloween!”

Jennifir leaves after another couple minutes of excited chatter about the various events put on by the city, and continues on down the street to invite your business neighbors to attend the festival as vendors too. The whole interaction leaves you thrilled at the opportunity to advertise your business, make some more money for the shop, and be part of the community! Your long forgotten book is tucked away in favor of pulling out your laptop to register yourself with the city planning committee to participate in the festival.

The next few weeks you work extra hard to get through prom season, and put in more hours than usual to get everything prepared for graduations as well. The days tick by in May. Mother’s Day is an amazing weekend, you put up a temporary photo shoot wall for mom’s, daughters, grandmothers, or really anyone to come in and take a picture with a flower wall backdrop. Another amazing success full of happy smiling people!

Finally the weekend of the festival arrives, people from the city have been cleaning up the park and working their tails off to get everything perfect for the event. A massive stage is erected in the park, the usual parking lots are lined with enclosed pop up tents for the vendors selling hot foods, extra trash cans are placed everywhere, and early Saturday morning the local businesses are arriving with their SUV’s and vans full of goods to set up their tables.

You are among that crowd. Busily working to get your table set up under a pop up tent for shade, your flowers and potted plants ready for display, making sure you have enough cash for making change in transactions, and cardboard boxes to help people carry their new plant babies home with them.

All around you other local businesses are setting up their booths too. You recognize a few of them that you’ve visited already, but you’re looking forward to seeing more of them. Beside you, you absolutely recognize the tall, broad, and exceptionally handsome man that owns the bakery down the street from you. Spending the whole weekend stuck next to eye candy, and artisan bread… even if you didn’t sell a single flower this weekend at least you’d have a good view.

The morning is warming up, people will be arriving soon, your coffee long since gone. You steal a glance over at the man carefully arranging his bread displays. He glances over at you too, and grins at catching you staring.

“Morning,” he says cheekily

“Good morning,” you reply, going a bit warm in the cheeks.

“Flower booth for a spring festival? I think you’re in the running for making the most profit this weekend,” he jokes looking at your pretty flower displays and cute potted plants. You laughed a little and eyed his selection of breads hungrily

“I dunno, people don’t want to carry around a heavy plant all day. But they do want to snack on some delicious bread,”

He laughs, and extends a hand to introduce himself. “I’m Paz by the way,”

You shake his large hand and tell him your name as well. It’s a firm handshake, worn hands and strong forearms presumably from kneading bread dough. The thought makes your tummy flutter, and your heartbeat quicken.

And so it begins. The two of you pull up chairs at the edges of your pop up tents, and spend the whole day laughing, talking, interacting with customers and making sales. At the end of the first day, he sends you home with a loaf of bread with Asiago cheese baked into the top, and you gift him a pretty green succulent and promise him they are almost impossible to screw up taking care of.

The second day of the festival is much the same, except this time he brings you a breakfast sandwich he prepared ahead of time.

“If you wouldn’t mind, I need a taste tester. I’ve been thinking about expanding my menu to add breakfast sandwiches,” he tells you with a shy smile. You gladly accept the sandwich and have to control yourself not to make embarrassing noises when you taste it.

“You made this from scratch?” You ask, taking another bite

“Well I made the bun,” he says, unwrapping his own homemade breakfast sandwich

“If you start selling this, I promise you’ll put places like Starbucks out of business,” you tell him “honestly, I’m gonna have to start coming down there every morning before I open,”

In his head, Paz thinks that would be an absolute dream to have you come see him everyday. But that’s not the kind of thing you tell someone you met 24 hours ago, so he settles for something else instead

“How far is your shop? Maybe you can have your breakfast delivered,”

“You didn’t know?” You ask “I just opened my shop on the far corner of the street your bakery is on. I actually came in to try your bread a couple months ago,”

Paz is a little embarrassed, he knew a business moved in down there but had no idea it was your flower shop. “No way! I remember you coming in to the bakery, but I had no idea you worked down the street,”

“To be fair the store wasn’t open yet, and I somehow managed to forget to introduce myself,” you tell him.

Just like the day before, the two of you spend the day laughing and chatting in between greeting customers and promoting your respective businesses.

In the early afternoon a man with shaggy dark hair, sun glasses, tattoos and a very cute little boy wearing a green bucket hat came over and started making conversation with Paz. He glanced over at you.

“Have you met Din yet?” Paz asks you “He owns the tattoo parlor across from the bakery,”

You smile and shake his hand, you see his little boy eyeing your selection of plants. “Do you want to pick one out buddy?” You ask the little boy, he nods enthusiastically and chooses a little pot with the beginnings of a strawberry plant in it.

“Shorty and I were just gonna go grab some funnel cake before we head home for nap, I just stopped by to see if you wanted some,” Din says

“Yeah, that would be great!” Paz says.

Din turns to you, and extends the same offer. You politely decline, claiming there’s no way you’d ever finish one on your own.

“You can split one with me,” Paz beams. Din nods and leads his son off into the crowd to acquire the sweet treats.

“I can’t believe you haven’t met everyone yet,” Paz says “We all get together on Tuesday nights after hours for beers,”

“Who is we exactly?” You ask, sitting back down in the folding chair the festival committee had generously provided.

“Most of the shop owners on our street, and a couple of others from around the corner. They actually convinced me to move out here and start my business a couple years ago,”

“I had no idea there was such a community amongst the business owners around here,” you admit.

“You’ve gotta come meet everyone next week,” he insists “You’ll fit right in!”

Your heart warms at the sentiment. One of your big fears moving to the city was not knowing anyone and struggling to find a new group of friends. This could be promising!

Din and his son make their way back and come sit behind the tables with you and Paz. You and Paz do split the funnel cake, and have a grand time chatting with Din and his little boy.

“You’re telling me you’ve been in business for three months and haven’t been dragged into the group? You’ve gotta start coming to Tuesday night drinks,” Din laughs

“So I’ve been told. I think you boys have convinced me, I’ll be there on Tuesday,” you laugh. Paz and Din give a little cheer.

“Everyone will be so excited to meet you! But until then I think the little stinker needs to get home for a nap,” Din says scoops up his sleepy son who’s been dozing in his dad’s lap for the last 15 minutes “I’ll see you Tuesday,”

Din gives a one handed wave and disappears back into the crowd.

The remainder of the afternoon is a bit slower, the last remaining festival

“I’ll come down and pick you up so you don’t have to show up on your own,” Paz offers “Besides I need to check out your shop!”

“Awe! Thank you, that would be great!” You reply, a subtle warmth blooming in your cheeks at the thought of him coming to visit your shop.

Your heart does somersaults in your chest. He’s so sweet and kind. And he’s inviting you to be part of his friend group. That has to be a good sign, right?

Taglist: @maybege @gallowsjoker @simping-for-clones @mxndoscyarika @hayley-the-comet

AN: This whole story, but this chapter specifically is very special to me. The city this story takes place in is based off of the two cities I have lived in, in my life. I grew up going to festival that takes place in late spring, that’s really important to the town I was born and grew up in... and the new city that I moved to as an adult is known for its public markets on Saturday’s where local vendors sell their flowers and their baked goods. I am just days away from moving back to my home city (temporarily) and due to covid I didn’t have the opportunity to attend the public market the last two years in a row. I don’t know if I’ll get to participate in the spring festival in my hometown this year.

[awritingtree]

Never Enough (2/7)

Sirius Black x daughter!reader

Summary: Y/N Black is back at Hogwarts after running away from her father’s, Sirius Black’s, house during the summer. The year passes by and soon it’s the end of the year, with the OWLS finished. What happens when she finds out that her father was captured by Voldemort?

Words: ~2.5k

Warnings: angst, shitty father-daughter relationship, self-deprecating thoughts.

A/N: I KNOW! I KNOW! I KNOW! I know there isn’t a lot of Sirius x reader interactions in this chapter. There are some indirect interactions - or lack of. But I felt it was important to have this chapter and not skip a whole year from the summer to the end of 5th year. It also allowed to me to give more insight into the reader’s feelings. And I realize some parts seem rushed but like they aren’t really that important so... This chapter was important for the entire plot I have planned because we all know what’s coming in the next chapter :) Anyways I hope you enjoy this filler chapter in the mean time xx

Series Masterlist

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

The rest of your enjoyable summer back home with the Tonks flashed by and the next thing you knew, you were boarding the Hogwarts Express on September 1st. The return to Hogwarts was accompanied by a change in season, the green leaves changing colours ranging from red to orange to yellow; falling, leaving the trees bare. Following autumn came winter, which passed by just as fast. The grounds covered in soft snow, crunching beneath the feet of the various students making their way in and out of the castle.

Christmas arrived sooner than you’d thought. The white layer made the world look so pure, so peaceful. You had opted out of going home for Christmas. Any chance of actually staying home would be impossible with the Order of the Phoenix still in place at 12 Grimmauld Place. Since you hadn’t returned, you had sent Mr. Weasley a get-well-soon present on top of his Christmas gift.

So instead you had spent the holidays at Hogwarts in the company of your Slytherin friends, spending your days reading, enjoying the grand feasts in the Great Hall and catching up on some much-needed sleep. You had expected a gift, but you were left disappointed as you saw the only presents lying at the foot of your bed were from the Tonks, Ginny, Hermione, Mrs. Weasley and your Slytherin friends. Lying in bed that night, your memories took you to a time somewhere around the beginning of November.

“Ew! Could you maybe consider showering before deciding to show up in public?” Parkinson’s whiny voice entered your ears as you ventured into the Great Hall on a Saturday morning.

Your broomstick was tucked in your underarm as you tied off one end of your French-braided hair. You wore your green and silver quidditch uniform messily, having rushed out of bed from waking up late. You had decided not to take a shower beforehand, knowing you’d get filthy all over again in a matter of a few hours. The sleepiness was still visible on your face, eyes drooping with weariness.

“Piss off Parkinson. Go drool over Draco elsewhere if my appearance is bothering you so much,” you sneered, plopping down on the bench, pouring yourself some pumpkin juice.

The arrival of owls stopped Parkinson from cursing you out. You looked up to see a snowy owl make its way towards the Gryffindor table, dropping a letter into the hands of Harry Potter. Upon reading who had sent him a letter, Harry, Ron and Hermione quickly glanced your way before quickly looking away, huddling together to prevent anyone from reading whatever the letter entailed. You sighed looking down solemnly, knowing whose letter would elicit such a reaction from the trio. In this moment you had never hated the snake emblem across the area over your heart more.

You’d cried yourself to sleep that night. Not even the fact that Slytherin would finally have a chance to win the Quidditch House Cup, due to the banning of Gryffindor’s seeker and beaters, had cheered you up. 

Both of those nights you had cried yourself to sleep, beating yourself up for ever expecting, for hoping, that this time away from your father had him changing his opinion on you. You didn’t know why you still cared. You didn’t understand why you craved his love, why you hadn’t given up on having any kind of relationship with him. You didn’t know why you still cared - you shouldn’t. You hated yourself for caring; but a small part of you, the five-year old girl that cried, begging for a chance to go visit her father for a year, still existed. No matter how many times you repeatedly denied it to yourself, you seeked his approval, his love.

You had fallen asleep on both of those nights wondering what you could possibly do to be worthy of his love, wondering why you were never enough.

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

Winter had come and gone in a jiffy. May brought sunshine, warmth and the blossoming of new life along with it. By now, the D.A. had been found and disbanded, the Inquisitorial squad was thriving off making every non-Slytherin’s life miserable - all because you, now, had a toad for a headmaster.

Your OWLs were coming up soon, pushing you to study more than you had ever before, distracting you from thinking about anything else.

“I don't understand why you talk to that blood traitor and mudblood.”

“Because they’re my friends, Draco,” you sighed, for what seemed like the millionth time, “And stop calling them that. It’s despicable.”

“You don’t need such friends. You have us,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“Oh, friends such as Parkinson, Crabbe, Goyle, and Zabini? I think I’m good,” you replied, scoffing.

Draco pulled you around to face him by your upper arm.

“I’m just trying to look out for you. These times, they aren’t the best. You don’t need to risk putting yourself in danger by associating with such...” he trailed off.

“Such what?” you prompted him, encouraging him to say something he’d regret. He stayed silent, staring at you, trying to say what he couldn’t out loud through his eyes, but your irritation didn’t allow you to see past his words.

“And I don’t need you to look out for me. I don’t need anyone to look for me! I can do that very well on my own, thank you. You’re not my brother,” you exclaimed, wrenching your hand out of his grip.

A series of emotions; hurt, anger, sadness; flashed across his face - gone before you could make anything of it. Your face softened as you realized what you’d said.

“Draco, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that,” you apologized immediately.

Draco moved out of the way just as you were about to lay our hand on his shoulder.

“No you’re right. I’m not your brother, Y/N,” spat Draco before softening his tone, “but I see you as my sister so I will continue to look out for you, no matter how you feel about it.”

He stormed away before you could get a second to respond, leaving you staring at the spot he’d previously occupied with a mixture of feelings.

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

OWLs were finished. You couldn’t believe that you were finally done. Your plan was to set off towards the Black Lake right after your last exam, lie back in the grass with your eyes closed to soak up the warmth shining down on your face. You longed to hear the sound of overlapping water from the cool breeze lulling you into a state where for the first time since last year, you’d feel a sense of peace and quiet.

But it seemed the universe hated the idea of you relaxing, which is why you were currently in Umbridge’s - Umbitch as you liked to call her - with the rest of the Inquisitorial squad along with a few former D.A. members. You were all waiting on Professor Snape to make his way to office, upon Umbridge’s order request. In addition to the purrs of the many cat pictures hanging on the horrid pink walls, the office was filled with the sounds of D.A. members trying to pull away from the Inquisitorial Squad’s grips.

“You wanted to see me, Headmistress?” asked Professor Snape entering the room as he eyed the struggling students, unconcerned.

Umbridge stood up smiling widely, almost cynically, “Yes. I would like a bottle of Veritaserum. I wish to interrogate Mr. Potter here.”

“You used up the last of the Veritaserum I had on your previous interrogation with Potter. Surely you didn’t use it all?”

“I’m sure you can make some more,” Umbridge replied with an overly sweet smile that made you want to vomit from the sight of it.

“Unless you wish to poison him - I have the greatest sympathy if you do - I can’t help you, not until it’s ready after a month,” Professor Snape said as he looked towards Harry.

Harry’s face scrunched up, seeming to concentrate on communicating something to Snape but his attempt was futile.

“You’re on probation! You’re deliberately being unhelpful. Now get out of my office!” shrieked Umbridge.

Snape blankly looked at her unbothered before turning to head out of the door.

“He’s got Padfoot! He’s got Padfoot at the place where it’s hidden!”

You felt like you had just been drenched in ice cold water at Harry’s shouts.

‘He? Who is he? It had to be Voldemort. Who else could have Harry in such a terrified state? But no, it couldn’t be possible,’ you thought. 

Ginny’s wince brought you out of your spiralizing thoughts. You loosened your tightening grip on her hand, too panic-stricken to mutter an apology. Your wide eyes drifted from Harry to Professor Snape.

“Padfoot?” exclaimed Umbridge, “What is Padfoot? Where what is hidden? Snape, what do you know about this?”

Snape turned back around to face Harry. His face was unreadable. You just hoped he would get some help, that he understood what Harry was shouting about.

“I have no idea,” he drawled, “Potter is speaking nonsense.”

You watched him walk out the door. Your palms had started to shake and sweat, everything drowned out. The only thing you could concentrate on was Snape, hoping he would give away any sign that he understood, he was going to do something. For once it seemed the universe had your back because just before he shut the door, his eyes made contact with yours as he moved his head, his nod bare visible. Relief flowed through your nerves; help was on the way.

You tuned into the conversation when you heard Hermione’s shrieks, “No! Professor- that’s illegal.”

Umbridge paid no mind to Hermione, raising her wand at Harry. Your hands clenched around your wand, preparing to take any action if needed as Hermione tried to convince Umbridge to stop.

“What Cornelius doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” Umbridge said, “Cruc-”

“NO!” your shout was drowned out by Hermione’s.

“Harry, we- we have to tell her,” she cried.

“It seems little Miss Question-all is going to give us some answers! Go on, then,” said Umbridge, triumphantly.

You stared at Hermione questionably. What was she doing? She couldn’t tell that toad anything. The Ministry would surely get your father and then- you didn’t want to think what would happen if they got their hands on him.

“He was trying to speak to Professor Dumbledore,” Hermione said in between her cries.

You felt Ginny tense in your grip in surprise as you suppressed the urge to sigh out loud in relief. Your eyes drifted around the room trying to think of a way to get yourself out of this situation and to Professor Snape. You needed to find a way to leave and help. You think you heard Hermione tell Umbridge about some weapon Dumbledore left in the forbidden forest in between your racing thoughts. You found the perfect opportunity as Umbridge headed out the door with Hermione and Harry. As soon as their footsteps could no longer be heard, all hell broke loose.

Ron slammed his head back into Warrington’s nose. You let go of Ginny, moving to get Crabbe off of Neville Longbottom, as she moved to go help Luna.

“Stupefy!” you yelled, pointing your wand towards Crabbe. You rushed to Neville, crouching down next to him as he caught his breath, “You okay?”

Neville weakly nodded. Satisfied with his nod, you got up to go help the rest. You felt Draco look at you, betrayed that you were helping the others, right before Ginny got him with the Bat-Bogey Hex. You felt a curse fly by you, grazing your cheek as someone pushed you to the side. Blood trickled down your cheek, dripping down staining your robes.

“What in the bloody hell are you doing, Ginny!? She’s one of them!” yelled Ron.

“No she’s not. She-”

“What do you mean? You see that badge, right? You do remember when she was holding you hostage right now? How about all the time she spent trying to catch the D.A.?” he rambled.

Ginny rolled her eyes exasperated, “Oh stop being so dramatic and listen. She’s not one of them. She’s been helping us all along. Why do you think no one patrolled near the seventh-floor corridor on the days we had a D.A. meeting?”

Ron shifted his eyes from Ginny, whose cheek had long scratches much like yours, to you before returning back to his sister, “That’s a load of codswallop.”

“We don’t have the time for this; We need to get going,” you said, impatiently. You did not have the time to convince anyone on whose side you were on. Your father could be dead by now for all you knew, and you had no clue how quick the Order would be informed to make their way towards wherever he was captured.

Ron opened his mouth, preparing to spew out an argument, “I’m sorry. We-”

“Look. Voldemort has my father right now and Salazar knows what he’s doing to him. No matter what has happened, he is my father. And you are not as smart as I give you credit for if you for a second think, I am not coming with you lot.”

“She’s right. We should get going. We’re wasting time,” Neville spoke up.

Ron looked between Ginny, Neville and you before begrudgingly agreeing.

You all quickly made your way out of the castle and towards the Forbidden Forest. You bumped into Harry and Hermione on your way there.

“How’d you get away?” asked Harry, surprised.

“Couple of hexes. Neville threw a good Impediment Jinx. Though, Ginny was the best, she got Malfoy good with a Bat-Bogey Hex. Anyway, what’ve you done with Umbridge?” replied Ron.

“Carried away by a herd of centaurs.”

“They left you behind?” asked a shocked Ginny.

“No, they got chased off by Grawp.”

“Whose Grawp?” questioned Luna, intrigued.

“Hagrid’s little brother,” explained Hermione.

“Never mind that!” interrupted Ron, “What did you find out in the fire? Does You-Know-Who have Sirius or-?”

“Yes” said Harry, “I’m sure Sirius is still alive but I’m not sure how to get there to help him.”

Everyone fell silent, the situation looking hopeless.

“What’s she doing here?” Harry asked, his eyes finally landing on you.

“He’s my father, Harry. Did you really think I was going to let you go alone?” you said, raising an eyebrow in question.

“Why? It’s not like you’ve cared before,” he retaliated causing rage to consume you at his unfiltered and forward words.

‘How dare he say that? I haven’t cared!?’

You opened your mouth to rebuttal, ready to release your wrath on the boy looking at you accusingly before Luna chimed in, paying no attention to the tension in the air.

“Well, we’ll have to fly, won’t we?”

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

General taglist: @heloisedaphnebrightmore @pregnant-piggy @approved-by-dentists @kashishwrites @remmyswritings @angelinathebook @idont-knowrn @coffee--writes @kinkyduuh @ickle-ronniekins

Never enough taglist: @evilluciferisevil @slyther-inn @bloodyxheaven @gcdric @mycobrakai1972 @loony-loopy-lupinn @the-mighty-bookworm @mads-bri @tessaem @hannah220506 @hariosborn @kpopgirlbtssvt

Lmk if you wanted to be added to either taglist :)

[sdv-mostly-shane]

ID- photo of a christmas tree farm with colorful, twinkling lights, with text written on it 'the one where Shane is Charlie Brown'

The One Where Shane is Charlie Brown.

Summary - Shane’s past Christmas sux and isn’t expecting much, but the farmer has other ideas regarding a certain holiday tradition. (Slight NSFW).

“What do you *mean* you’ve never had a real Christmas tree?” The farmer, incredulous, darted at Shane as they sat with their legs dangling above the frozen lake.

“What, like you’re surprised? I don’t know, there’s just never been a need.”

“How could you not need-but Jas?”

“She has a little purple fake one in her room. And you know how much Marnie dislikes the holidays, decorating would just remind her that she is stuck being alone for all but three minutes at midnight. Why would she want a tree?”

“What about when you were little?” Shane saw the look in the farmers eye soften, but couldn’t quite catch them to make direct contact, as they turned away-they’ve had enough conversations of his childhood at this point for him to know what the farmer was feeling, and why they were intent on staring ahead at nothing instead of looking at him.

“C’mon, you know how it was... it’s not important. Hey, let’s get those skates on, alright? I want to see your butt on that ice and a smile on your face.” Shane gently grabbed the farmers chin, turning them to look at him. “Hey. Relax-I got you now, right? Weren’t you the one who said ‘forget your shitty childhood, I’m making you all new Christmas memories myself!’, right? Or was that just an empty threat?

“Threat! Ha, you just wait-and I’m gonna start by skating circles around you!” The farmer shot up, and made to put on their skates, run-hoping to the edge of the ice, nearly falling over themselves in the excitement. Shane was so busy enjoying the farmers joy that he almost didn’t hear them mumble-“and then we’re coming right back out here tomorrow morning to get you a *real* tree”.

He was fooling himself if he said he wasn’t a little curious by what they meant. Right now, however, it was enough for Shane to simply enjoy the fact that the snowy weather meant that the farmer had more reason to snuggle up against him to keep warm. He didn’t need any other Christmas memories. The farmer was enough.

“Loser has to clean the chicken coop!”

___________________________________________

Apparently the farmer wasn’t kidding. Shane was woken by the clunking of heavy boots marching around the kitchen, and stumbled into the room to find the farmer clamoring around the stove, whisk in one hand, and axe in the other.

“That’s a new way of making scrambled eggs” Shane nodded toward the axe.

“OH. Hi. I didn’t mean to wake you-here, eat breakfast. We got a big day ahead.”

Shane, feigning ignorance, said “Is it something to do with the axe?”

“How’d you guess?” The farmer winked, handed the plate to Shane, who had groggily plonked himself at the table, and then continued their running about the kitchen, shuffling and shoveling things into their backpack. They smiled as they picked up two masses of deeply hued green wool, and stopped to admire the chunky knit work.

“What’re those for?”

The farmer turned toward Shane with round innocent eyes-“I thought we could match.”

___________________________________________

Once the sweater was on, Shane couldn’t stand the thought of ever having the take it off. Further, the accompanying knit green beanie sealed the deal for him to really relax into the cozy vibe. He found himself zoning in on the bobble of the furry poof atop the farmers matching beanie, and fell behind a few paces. They had bounded out the door with Shane in hand immediately after he finished his last bite, and had begun chattering about the difference between a Douglass fir and a balsam nearly as soon as their boots hit the crunchy snow outside their door. Shane could see them periodically glancing over their shoulder, shooting him a bright smile, but he continued to get lost in his thoughts, happy for the comfortable rhythm they’ve developed.

Hand in hand, now at the edge of the forest, the farmer turned to Shane with a sudden serious gaze.

“I know this won’t erase what happened before, but I hope that, in the future, when you look back on your Christmas memories, that this will be one of them.” The farmer swung their backpack off their shoulder and pulled out their axe. Now, with a smile of childlike anticipation, they handed the axe to Shane and said, “pick one. Any one at all that you like. We’ll chop it down, call Marnie over with the truck, and we’ll put it up next to the fireplace.”

“Any one at all?” Shane gesticulated an eyebrow up, and peered at the farmer through his dark veil of lashes.

“Yes, any one.” The farmer swung their backpack from their shoulder, and pulled out the axe and a blindfold.

“Oh, Yoba, you didn’t tell me that we were chopping these down blind”

The farmer laughed “that would have been such a better idea than what I had. But no-I *will* be blind folded, but only because I don’t want to influence your choice. I want it to be a surprise.” The farmer placed the axe on the ground, and turned around, handing the blindfold to Shane to wrap it around them.

Leaning in to brush his lips against their ear, he gingerly placed the blindfold across the farmers eyes. They flinched at the warmth from his fingertips grazing their jawline. “You should have told me you had this thing a long time ago... we could have gotten a lot of use out of this by now” he whispered, salaciously.

He couldn’t help but giggle at the farmers gasp, and put some distance between them to cool the mood down.

“Well then-I’ll lead the way. Shall we?”

With that, Shane placed the farmers hand in the crook of his arm, and led them down towards the cliff. How different his circumstances now, he thought, that the farmer was in his life. Here he was, struggling still, for sure, but instead of a bottle in hand, he had the (literal) blind trust of the farmer, and, for the first time in awhile, hope for the future. No one had come this close to Shane’s heart in many years, but with that, a lot of pain of memories gone by were brought to the surface. He lost himself in thought about how the farmer had already washed over so many of these bleeding wounds like cool water; how could someone be so tender and patient to him to want to keep putting in this effort of helping him face these troubles? The thoughtfulness put forward some was more than he ever thought he was deserving of. If the farmer kept this up, he may actually start expecting to be treated with love and respect.. or even think he was deserving of it.

He wasn’t sure how long they had walked together in silence, but they had passed the bridge filled frozen ponds, the overhang above the sewer grate, and were now along the cliff edge where he was sure for a minute that he saw a tiny mouse with a little green cap scurry past him. He didn’t feel a need to break their quiet contentment, but resolved to focus more on the task at hand.

Now up to the wizards tower, Shane knew immediately when he saw.

“So do you want to start hacking away blindly, or do you want to take your blindfold off now?”

“Oh good you found one! I hope it’ll fit in the door, we may have to chop off a foot or tw- oh” Blindfold now removed, the farmer stood with brows furrowed. “But I thought-you know what? I’m not sure what else I would have expected from you. This is exactly the type of tree that you’d pick. It’s perfect.”

“All three feet of it, twiggy branch and all.” Shane was glowing as he gazed upon his prize. “It’s me. If I was a tree, this would be me.”

“Cant say I disagree with you there, considering it’s the sweetest and most endearing tree I’ve ever seen in my life. One single branch and all.”

It only took two swipes of the axe to dislodge their chosen tree, but it was more that enough the permanently lodge this moment into Shane’s mind. The perfect tree for a perfect Christmas-only made so by his perfect farmer.

___________________________________________

Tree in tow, and arm in arm, they made their way back to the farm where, as promised, the farmer had red chili cocoa waiting for them.

“Okay, but how does a tree manage to only grow one branch.”

“You know honestly I have no f*cling clue.”

The farmer laughed in response, and Shane knew that this Christmas would be the start of many beautiful ones to come. He couldn’t wait to see the next new memory creation the farmer had planned.

[idreamofplaid]

It Begins

Square Filled: Tongue Fucking for @spnkinkbingo & Singing Christmas Songs for @spnchristmasbingo

Characters: Sam x Olivia (OFC); Jensen and John mentioned

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Oral (female receiving)

Summary: Olivia is new to the marketing firm owned by John Winchester, and is surprised to be assigned to an important ad campaign for a high profile client. She feels like she’s in over her head with the work, but she’s in even deeper with the boss’ son, Sam.

Word Count:3781

A/N: This is Part 1 of a Series called Surrender to the Truth. It’s an AU mash up of RPF and SPN characters. I’m also playing with time. Imagine Season 8 Sam and Jensen a year or so into the future.

It was beta’d by the wonderful @fangirlxwritesx67. Thanks Viv for your patience with all my questions, your enthusiasm for this project, your thorough reading that really made me think about what I was doing, and the series title. 

Why were Mondays always like this? Olivia found it hard to decide what to wear after a weekend of being relaxed in pajamas and denim. Traffic was predictably the worst, even more so because of the holidays, and if there was any day she was going to forget and leave her coffee on the kitchen counter; it was Monday.

She made it to work on time with only a couple of minutes to spare. This was only her second week on the job at the city’s most up and coming marketing firm and being late was not the way to make a good impression on her new boss. John Winchester was a man with exacting standards and high expectations.

Her first stop was the coffee pot in the breakroom. There was no way her creativity was going to start flowing without caffeine. Cup in hand, Olivia made her way to her office. It was a respectable office, larger than the little more than a closet sized space she’d had in her last office. This one even had a small window. These things might seem insignificant, but Olivia had worked hard for them, and to her they were badges of success.

Olivia had barely had two sips of her vanilla creamer laced coffee when she had a visitor in her office, the kind of visitor who doesn’t knock: Sam Winchester. She hadn’t been here long, but she had been filled in on Sam. He was practically legendary among the women of the office, and some of the men. She took another sip of her coffee to hide the fact that her mouth had fallen open. This guy lived up to the hype. 

He was wearing a white dress shirt, minus the jacket, and the way his shoulders and chest filled out that shirt was nothing short of sinful. His tie formed a perfect Windsor knot at his throat, and the face above that tie was Greek god handsome. He was a Greek god with dimples.

As he walked across the room, his every move exuded power and privilege, without the arrogance. Holy fuck. Could a man be more attractive?

 He put a folder down on the edge of Olivia’s desk. Work. Right. He expected her brain to focus on what his family was paying her for.

She sat down to take a look at what was so important Sam Winchester himself had delivered it.  When he spoke, his voice was just as delicious as the rest of him.

 “New account. Dad wants you to take it.” He sat down smoothly on the edge of her desk to watch her look through the file like he owned the place, which he basically did. She finished looking through the file then looked up at Sam, more confused than ever. She was the new kid here. Why would they give her something this high profile, as in Hollywood high profile?

It wasn’t her most impressive moment or the most professional thing she’d ever said, but she blurted out, “Why me?”

Sam rested his hand on his thigh. The way his long fingers spread out over it wasn’t helping her concentrate or wrap her head around this situation. “Because you’re from Texas. Gives you insight into the culture, the vibe, the feel of it.” He stood and adjusted his tie, drawing your attention to his hands again. “This Ackles guy is a personal friend of my dad’s, so make it good.” As he left, he looked back over his shoulder. “Besides, everyone likes beer; you’ll come up with something.”

She said to the empty room, after he closed the door behind him, “No, actually I don’t.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For a couple of minutes after Sam left, all she could do was stare at the nicely framed but generic artwork on her wall. The Winchesters were trusting her with a huge account for some reason, and she was scared completely out of her mind that she was going to screw it up and ruin her future with this company, along with her career in advertising. Why did it have to be beer? Finally, she opened the file and spread the pictures of the brewery and the photos of its famous owner across her desk. 

She picked up one of the glossy pictures of Jensen Ackles in all his male model perfection and took a good look at it. He was just as gorgeous as Sam, but his look was distinctly different.  His eyes were a clear green, and they held a deep intensity. Those eyes were captivating in a photograph. What would they be like in person? She allowed herself to indulge in that fantasy for a few seconds then shook her head to break the spell. She needed some Bailey’s in her coffee. Excellent idea. She was already walking a perilous line at this new job, so why the hell not?

Olivia swiveled her chair and opened the cabinet behind her, reaching into the back to grab the bottle of liquor where she’d stashed it. She poured a generous amount into her cup, hoping it would calm her nerves. With that in mind, she turned on some music. The soothing notes of an instrumental version of “White Christmas” floated from the speakers. 

She closed her eyes and let the taste of the coffee and the Irish cream sit on her tongue. This had been one of her favorite Christmas songs when she was growing up. It always took her to a fantasy wonderland, a place where life was ideal and Christmas cottages had perfectly trimmed trees with beautiful presents piled beneath them, fireplaces alive with glowing fires, stockings hung on the mantel, and snowflakes falling gently outside. Living in Texas, snow had been a magical and rarely seen event.

That long cherished holiday dream filled her mind and calmed her. She started singing along with the music. ...just like the ones I used to know.  After a stanza or so, she opened her eyes to focus once again on the pictures of the brewery in front of her. A snowy Christmas was her fantasy, but she had a job to do; that was her reality.

By the end of the day when Sam came back to check on her progress, Olivia had practically nothing to show him. It would do no good to try and stall or hide just how little she had managed to accomplish. He was her supervisor on this project, and he was here to see how much progress she’d made. 

He flipped through the work she’d done that day. His expression was unreadable, but his words were clear enough. “The Taste of Texas? Not exactly original is it?” He paused and cut his eyes over to her, then dropped them back to the papers he was holding. “The drawings aren’t bad though. We can probably use some of these hill country sketches. Maybe a logo design.” He closed the file and tossed it back on her desk.

 “Do you know what you need?” Her silence said she didn’t. “Inspiration.”

She put her hand on the folder lying on her desk, the one that represented her failed day of work. “Where do I get that exactly?” She was unable to keep a hint of exasperation out of her voice.

He flashed her those unbelievable dimples and winked. “Follow me.” Sam took her to his office. It was easily four times the size of hers with an entire wall of windows that revealed a breathtaking view of the city, the lights from the skyline competing with the white lights on the tastefully decorated Christmas tree that adorned his office. It was opulent and sleek, a space befitting the heir to the growing empire. 

She allowed herself to indulge in the breathtaking view of the skyline for a few seconds before commenting, “It’s an incredible view, but I don’t see anything about a family business in Texas out there.”

“Your inspiration isn’t out there; it’s in here.” His voice drew her eyes away from the magnificent view. Sam walked to his mini fridge and pulled out a six pack. He held it up. “A little Cosmic Cowboy from Family Business Beer Company. How can you create an impactful and memorable campaign without sampling the product?”

Sam twisted the top off a bottle and handed it to her. She took a sip of it. Unfortunately, she wasn’t one of those people who could describe the taste of beer. It was cold. It was beer. That was all she had. She was not a connoisseur. How was she ever going to do this ad campaign? She didn’t even like beer.

Sam had been watching her reaction carefully. Olivia didn’t have a poker face, though she’d tried to hide her reaction. It didn’t slip by him that she wasn’t comfortable with this beer thing. 

“Not your favorite then?” He took a drink from his bottle. “Taste it again.”

He was the boss’ son, effectively her boss right now, and this was her job; but she got the feeling she would have done whatever he asked even if that hadn’t been the case. She took another sip, and Sam coached her through it. “Think about what you’re drinking; savor it. Just like wine, beer has notes; and they’re all different.”

She took one more drink. “What am I supposed to be tasting?” She’d never been good with wine either, but once someone explained there was blackberry or oak or whatever in it; she could pick up on that. She needed Sam to tell her what she should be tasting.

“Do you taste how it’s substantial but still light?” She took another sip and nodded. “It’s the grapefruit and pineapple that make it light; the pine in it gives it a little something more.” When he said it, she could taste it. She could taste it all.

Sam’s office had a fireplace, not like the one in her fantasy Christmas cottage, but when he picked up a remote and clicked it bringing the flames to life, it was cozy nevertheless. Sam took off his tie and tossed it on one of the upholstered chairs in front of the fire. He unbuttoned the top of his shirt and rolled up the sleeves. Absentmindedly, Olivia took another sip of her beer while she watched him. 

Sam sat down on the plush rug in front of the fireplace, his back leaning against the leather sofa, legs stretched out in front of him. He put what was left of the six pack of beer down beside him and patted the floor on his other side, inviting her to join him. Olivia lowered herself next to him. She was thankful her pencil skirt wasn’t so tight that it didn’t allow some freedom of movement, and she tried not to stare at the way the firelight danced over his golden skin. He caught her looking at his strong forearms, exposed below the rolled white cuffs of his shirt. Sam smiled, a flirty and suggestive sort of smile. He finished the last of his beer, and popped open another.

Olivia was slower to finish hers, but she was beginning to warm up to the taste. Perhaps it was something you had to acquire, or maybe the company you were in made all the difference. Beer might be okay after all. 

He asked, “What do you think of it now?”

“I can taste everything you said.” The crackle of the fire, the lights from the Christmas tree, and the skyline in the background created a perfect storm of romantic atmosphere. Olivia noticed how Sam’s eyes were a beautiful honeyed brown, dappled with green and gold. His lips looked incredibly soft in contrast to the hard line of his jaw. He caught her starting again, this time at his mouth. 

He took her empty bottle and slotted it back into the cardboard square where it had originally been and put what was left of his beer in the empty square beside it. Sam turned back to her and leaned in closer. He took her face into his hand and looked into her eyes for a long second or two before he lowered his mouth to hers. 

The way he kissed was like nothing she’d ever experienced before. His tongue was sure but gentle as it circled hers. He had complete control of her through what his mouth was doing. A wet spot was forming in her panties, her body responding to him. At the same time his hand was cradling her face while his fingers moved slowly back and forth through her hair, massaging her scalp and melting her under his touch. He could do anything to her. She was eager for it.

He broke the kiss, and now he was holding both sides of her head in his enormous hands. His lips were still just inches from hers. She could feel his breath when he asked, “What do you taste now?”

This man could make her breathless. He was either meant for her, or he was excellent at reading her actions and responses. His attention was completely on her, waiting for her response. 

 “I...can still taste the beer, but the way you taste makes it better.” It wasn’t eloquent. For someone who worked with words to pull the maximum effect from them, he could make her forget how to use them properly. 

Sam kissed her again, hands roaming down her back and stopped just above her waist. “You know what else might really inspire you?”

Olivia pressed her body so tightly against his she could feel the muscles in his chest and stomach through his shirt. It made her wetter. “I have some ideas.” 

He took off her jacket and let it fall to the floor. “Then let’s get those creative...juices flowing.” The blouse she was wearing was form fitting. Sam’s gaze traveled over her breasts before his eyes locked onto hers.

 A spark traveled between them. Lust? Need? Want? Whatever it was, the sexual tension hung in the air for a moment before their lips crashed together. 

Sam lowered her to the floor while he pulled her shirt up. He broke the kiss to tear it  over her head and throw it out of the way. Now it was his turn. She took a fistful of his shirt and pulled it out of his pants, then did the same on the other side. He propped himself over her on his hands while she unbuttoned his shirt and took it off. She ran her hand across his chest and over his shoulder. What he’d been hiding beneath that expensive shirt was impressive.  

Sam smiled down at her. “You like?”

“Very much,” she answered while he took off her bra and lowered his head to take one of her nipples in his mouth. He teased it with his tongue until she was arching her back and raising her hips off the floor. 

Sam sucked hard on the nipple in his mouth before pulling off it. “Do you want more?” Her eyes closed and her lips parted, a small moan escaping from them. 

He unzipped her skirt and dragged it down her legs, then turned his attention to her lace covered mound. Sam rubbed his fingers over her panty covered core. “Already so wet.” He pushed her panties aside and swiped his fingers through her folds. Then he lifted his fingers to his mouth and sucked her juices from them. His eyes bore into hers. “Tastes so good.”

He tore her panties from her body to gain access to what he wanted; she heard the sound of silk and lace ripping. Sam’s hand felt huge on her thighs as he pushed them wide apart. He held them there, and his tongue found her clit. He sucked it the same way he’d worked at her nipple. 

She was raising and lowering her hips beneath him, fucking nothing and needing to be filled until Sam swirled his tongue all the way down her slit to her opening and thrust it inside. She wasn’t empty anymore, and it felt incredible. He moved his tongue in and out of her, fucking her on it until she was writhing and grabbing fistfuls of his hair. 

She wanted to scream but was still aware enough to know they were in the office building. So, with some effort, she held it in. But when he added the pad of his thumb circling over her clit while he continued to thrust into her with his tongue, she started to whimper and moan. Her thighs were shaking when she came on his face. He licked and stroked her through her orgasm until she went still beneath him.

Sam didn’t move for a few seconds, then he raised himself up so he could see her reaction to what he’d done to her, how it had affected her. Olivia smiled up at him, and Sam returned the smile while he unbuckled, unzipped, and pushed his pants and underwear down over his hips. If she’d thought what was under his shirt was stunning, what was under his pants was better. His cock was absolutely magnificent. It stood against his stomach long and thick, resting on his well defined abs. Sam caught her looking at him yet again, and his smile got bigger. “I’m not finished with you yet.”

Sam lowered himself from his kneeling position until he was sitting on the floor. He pushed his pants farther down his legs to get them out of the way. He extended a hand to her, and she took it. He settled her on his lap. Olivia wrapped her legs around him. He looked at her with those beautiful eyes that combined colors in so many ways that seemed to change from moment to moment. “Do you want to go through with this? It’s not too late to say no.”

She squeezed her thighs into his sides. She was imagining the feel of his cock stretching her open. From the looks of him, it was going to be a tight fit. “I absolutely want to go through with this.” 

That was all he needed to hear. He took a condom from the wallet in the pants pooling around his ankles and rolled it down over his length. Sam put his hands on each side of her waist and lifted her up, lining her up over the tip of his cock.

When he started to lower her down onto his shaft, she rolled her head forward. Her hair brushed over his shoulder as he continued to slowly ease her down onto his length, giving her time to adjust to his size. Once he was fully seated inside her, he began to roll his hips. Oliva imitated his movements, rolling her hips with the same rhythm. 

She raised her head because she wanted to see into Sam’s eyes while he thrust up into her. There was something in the depths of them that she couldn’t quite define, something she wanted to figure out, something she wanted to understand and know better. He covered her mouth and kissed her with an intensity she could feel through her entire body.

His tongue was circling hers, tasting her, when she came again. Olivia clenched around him and her body spasmed in waves as her orgasm crested and blended into another. Sam kissed her all the way through it. She went limp in his arms, and he kept moving. 

She could feel his hands on her and the warmth of the flame from the fire on her skin. She could feel the way his cock throbbed, still buried deep inside her, and she could taste him. He pulled away from her mouth and buried his face in her neck when he came.  

“Olivia.” He said her name once, just the one word, and it struck her to the core. Olivia regretted that she couldn’t feel his hot release painting her insides. It felt like some part of him was being held back from her, and she wanted it all. 

Whatever magic she’d felt hearing the sound of her name on his lips dissipated with the reality of Sam pulling himself from her body and carefully removing the condom. He pulled his pants back up before walking over to his desk to dispose of it in the wastebasket there. Olivia imagined it wouldn’t be the first time the cleaning service found one of those in his trash. 

What was she doing? She just screwed the boss’ son in his office. She was a total cliche. Her mind told her she should feel like a slut, but she didn’t. She refused to be ashamed of what she’d done. The sex had been mind blowing; her body had never responded to any man that way. Sam had stirred something in her physically, but it had gone beyond that. It was something she would examine later and try to define, but now all she could think of was escaping the overwhelming thoughts and feelings consuming her. Hastily, she grabbed her clothes and was in the process of putting them back on when Sam returned. 

He took her hand and charmed her with his boyish dimples and his eyes that had turned a soft gray like the color of a sky lit by a silvery moon. Still, it was his words that got to her the most. “Hey, don’t be in such a hurry to leave; you’re going to make me feel cheap.” He was flirting with her. Guys like him moved smoothly through situations like this as though they were born to it, and in a way they were. Still, part of her hoped he was being at least a little sincere.

Sam hadn’t let go of her hand. “Stay with me. We can watch the fire, enjoy the lights on the Christmas tree.” This was a fling, right? It was a one night stand with the irresistible guy at work. “Plan our trip to Texas.” What did he just say? “A six pack is just an introduction to the business. What you need is to see the brewery.” 

Sam sat down on the sofa, and Olivia sank down beside him. She lowered her guard a little and let some of the bliss she was feeling wash over her. The ambience created by the light from the tree and the fire enhanced her mood; both the light and her mood seemed somehow softer now.

“We can take the company jet. Ring in the new year in Austin.” Listening to him, Olivia had a most happy thought. Maybe this wasn’t a one night thing after all. 

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