#i should have asked santa to bring van back):

[ryanmypoorlittlemeowmeow]

there's no van mccann or miles morris under my tree i don't like it here

[angel-fics]

Darkness Within the Light

Chapter 2 of a Dwayne Stephens x Latina!Pregnant!Witch!OC

Warnings: depictions of violence, descriptions of grief and homelessness, threats on life, foul language and adult situations. All readers are responsible for their own media intake, if you’re a minor, it is not my responsibility to decide what is or isn’t appropriate for your viewing.

Summary: Jessamine is new to Santa Carla and mostly fully aware of the strange occurrences that plague the small town. Running away from one large problem into what could be another one isn’t going to deter her from doing whatever it takes to make her unborn child safe again.

Jessamine felt as though there were many reasons as to why events happened the way they did. She was very much a believer in the whole “everything happens for a reason” faith system. However, that didn’t mean she always liked it and was prone to acting less reasonably than she felt she should.

Like now, for instance, as she argued with a local peace officer for parking outside of the police station to rest. In her very much valid defense, she had been driving a very long time to a place that was mostly unfamiliar to her. It was in her best interest to settle down in or near a place that’s entire purpose was to protect and service her. What was so difficult to understand about that?

“Ma’am, I understand completely, but you are not permitted to park your van outside of a police station without an appointment or permit. You’ve given neither and are therefore loitering, which is prohibited,” the surly officer explained. The bright, hot morning sun sparkled off his badge, obscuring his name, but that wasn’t something Jessamine particularly cared about this early.

“Yes, I know, you’ve said so three times, all without letting me fully explain myself. Which is why I haven’t the faintest clue as to what you supposedly ‘understand’ because I haven’t said anything,” Jessamine rambled, tired and frustrated beyond comprehensible belief. “I’m new to town, I just arrived late last night. I don’t know any of the hotels or temporary testing spots and this seemed the safest place to be. So much for serve and protect.”

The cop blistered considerably at her jibe, his fair complexion darkening to a worrying shade of rose in irritation. “Ma’am, it really wasn’t a wise decision to travel to a new place without a previously planned place to stay,” he chided her, shifting his weight to readjust himself in the sweltering heat.

Jessamine took in a deep breath and asked the Great Mother for guidance. She counted out just a few seconds silently, before allowing her breath to flow from her lips and join the countless particles in the surrounding air.

“I do have a place to stay, I was not in the right physical condition to continue driving. As I previously said. I did not mean to cause such a commotion but I was on the verge of losing consciousness at the wheel and would’ve preferred to not have broken a few more serious laws in the process,” she explained as calmly and politely as she possibly could, closing her eyes to envision her self control as if it were a tangible thing.

She imagined herself grasping it and holding it close to her chest to act as a healing balm from her more scattered thoughts. It wrapped around her coolly, bringing down her spiritual and emotional temperature to something more manageable and less distracting.

“I will take my leave now, officer, if you could just point me to the library,” Jessamine sighed languidly, fluttering her eyes back open to see the cop’s disapproving but slightly relieved gaze.

“You’ll find that most public spaces are on the same road, the main one, that branches off between the boardwalk and grandpa’s ranch,” he pointed out, literally pointing in the direction of where she ought to go.

“Grandpa?” She tilted her head questioningly, the spark of recognition flaring in her eyes. “I wasn’t aware everyone called him that.”

The cop laughed loudly from his belly, a lot more at ease knowing she wasn’t some young tourist looking to make trouble. “It’s not as if the old coot could be confused for anything else. I swear that geezer has been past his prime since the day I was born. Every year I think the city council is gonna grant him ‘historical landmark’ status,” he chuckled at his own jokes, obviously knowing the man fondly.

“Wouldn’t surprise me, he has a habit a becoming a local treasure where ever he goes,” the young woman went along, hoping to end the conversation now that she’d gotten what she’d wanted.

The cop readjusted himself once more and placed his wide and stubby hands around his utility belt, also eager to get to a cooler environment. The sun bear down mercilessly, not a cloud to shield the surface from the heaven’s rays, and staying exposed for an extended amount of time was sure to give one heatstroke.

“Well, I’ll let you get back to it, little miss, just don’t let me catch you loitering on public property again. Stay in parking spaces or get a permit, ya’ hear?” His stern warning combined with a chastising finger wave did nothing to intimidate her as he might have hoped, but she played along for the outing of the situation.

“Yes, sir, you won’t hear a peep about me,” she agreed gratefully, getting extremely lucky when her old faithful van started on the third raucous twist of her key and wheezed to life. She drove off with a small flutter of her ringed fingers and pulled out of the parking lot. Much to her relief, the officer who’s name she never learned quickly took the opportunity to head back to his ventilated work environment.

Readjusting her review mirror, she analyzed all of the signs on all of the local shops and vendors that made up the entire center of Santa Carla. She drove by so many ice cream shops, diners, gift emporiums and convenience stores that they all blended together. They were all perfect for tourists, especially those who valued the “small town charm” that these shops exuded. There wasn’t a single pharmacy, clinic or any singular building along the strip that was for locals or permanent residents. Jessamine figured that all local practices were private so that the main public income could come from tourist revenue. The only building that was serviced to both local and foreign visitors was the library, and it stood out like a black beacon against a neon background.

Almost literally. While every other shop or store in the area was printed with long faded, but once bright colors, the library itself was donned in various hues of black, brown and grey. Also unlike the other businesses, it stood tall, nearly able to block out the sun with its sheer height. Even the architectural design was different, obviously older and better maintained. There was no chipping of the shutters or cracks in the stone pavement and steps below the large, iron-wrought double doors.

Jessamine honestly felt a bit insecure with her eyesore of a van being parked outside such a place, with dirt and dust caked along the edges, covering the dull paint job of what was supposed to be a vibrant medley of yellows, purples and greens. She tried to dampen the slight shame and fell into a new habit of hers whenever she became stressed and needed to reassure someone that she knew what she was doing.

Placing a hand upon her stomach, her palm slightly sinking into the fat as close as she could without compressing her baby, she began to comfort her unborn child. Logically, she knew that her baby wouldn’t actually be harmed if she placed the full weight of her hand into her stomach, but she didn’t like feeling like the child was crowded within her womb.

“Our Great Mother has kept us safe thus far and continues to bless our ongoing journey, lovey. May she continue to guide us along a safe and happy path while we devote our faith and practices in her name. We must face yet another obstacle in our journey, but it is nothing we can’t handle. We have a home now, there will be no more scavenging for food or fighting over sleeping spots. Let us be off, then,” Jessamine concluded, giving a small kiss to the medallion that hung from her neck.

Usually she would talk to the Great Mother for comfort or. . . him. But she couldn’t anymore, not directly without setting off a chain of events best left alone, as least as long as it took to guarantee her safety. Guiding her child along the right life way was the next best option. But oh, how she missed the comfort of receiving Great Mother’s celestial guidance, a potent and visceral anomaly that she cherished greatly.

Jerking her door violently and having to shove her entire body weight just to open it, she nearly fell onto the sidewalk when it gave way. Dusting herself off and fighting her clothing and hair into a somewhat less unkempt position, she grabbed a large binder with all of her legal papers and approached the large double doors of the library.

Even though her van wasn’t parked all that far away from the library, the young brunette felt all the more intimidated by the sheer power that the large, ancient building gave off. Invisible to the naked eye, but all too clear to those with a deeper sense of the surface plane, like Jessamine. She knew she had no reason to be so cautious around this new place. It was a place of safety. An escape. A sanctuary. A new home to raise her miracle baby and hone her magic to keep them safe. Although the “Murder Capital of the World” wasn’t the ideal place to start a family, it would serve her purposes, and maybe even be a permanent place to settle.

Jessamine was a witch, or Wiccan, if you prefer. An individual in touch with their spirituality and nature and the energy around them. Before this, before the accident and the move, Jessamine wasn’t a particularly powerful witch. And when in her own body, she didn’t carry much of a presence. She spent most of her time on the astral plane, simply absorbing the cosmic power and communicating with the Great Mother. She had a job, of course, a role within her coven.

Just like she was trying to become here, in Santa Carla, she was a historian. She kept track of every known magical artifact or objects with Wiccan significance. Another one of her duties was to translate the runes and glyphs used on maps or in inscriptions or written by Elders in diaries. She also did research on the importance of maintaining or locating said items so that the Coven Council would approve on expeditions to extract those items. She wasn’t one for exertion or physical labor, she was too open-spirited. It made it very difficult to focus on the physical world around her for long periods of time. It’s very dangerous to be separated from your body for long periods of time without protection. Especially in risky environments. She wasn’t the only person who did such research and she wasn’t the most dangerous person who looked for them.

The natural enemy of most modern Wiccan were dark practitioners, people who abused the Great Mother’s gifts for dangerous and harmful purposes. There was no such thing as a dark or evil object or spell. In order for that to be, there’s have to be a dark energy, and such didn’t exist. All energy is ambivalent at best, and geared towards universal balance. Wiccans are those who can hone and use energy as a corporeal thing that can suit one’s purpose. Spells are words that act as hands for that energy. Objects are a talisman to contain energy that can be used later on and influenced by its user. Dark practitioners manipulate the natural forced for malignant intentions. Magic is simply how it is used, which is why there are so many different types.

Jessamine wasn’t well suited to go against dark practitioners, not physically or magically. And certainly not while pregnant. Pregnancy is a natural magic that anyone can register. It is beautiful and powerful, but very dangerous on mothers. It’s not a necessary magic and many choose not to indulge or witness it. And while pregnancy had drastically increased her power, she needed the time and space to get used to the energy that was granted to her. Wiccan who simply use the energy to feel it aren’t particularly knowledgeable or powerful, especially when so young as she was.

That’s why, after muttering a small safety spell and then a luck spell, she mustered up all the courage she possessed and marched through those big, dark doors into what would hopefully be her pathway to a new life.

The entryway opened up to a lobby area and through a revolving door was the actual library. Unlike most modern libraries, there were no computers or phones of any kind. The lobby where Jessamine stood held five iron baskets that were each filled to the brim with newspapers, each one topped with that day’s paper. There were no people that Jessamine could see or sense. No that it mattered, Wiccans we’re good at obscuring their presences if needed. Beyond the lobby, there wasn’t a single person among the huge book shelves, nor at the numerous long tables, nor behind the help desks. It were as though the place was closed or abandoned, despite the doors being unlocked and the lights illuminating the entire building along with the afternoon sunlight.

Grabbing a newspaper, Jessamine sat down in an old and uncomfortable lobby chair and pretended to occupy herself until life made itself known within the library. She was just finishing up the extremely extensive Missing Persons section before she heard a slight shuffling to her right and was startled to find an odd looking young man right in front of her. He was tall and thin, he looked to be of Asian descent, with large, thick spectacles making his brown eyes look owlish. He silently stared at her curiously, his fingers intertwined and laying limply atop his pelvis. He didn’t look to be all that much older than she did, maybe about two to four years her senior. His long-sleeved button up was buttoned all the way to the top and tucked beneath his belted corduroy slacks.

“What are you doing here?” His low voice was smooth and quiet, a bit of a lilt revealing that he wasn’t a native to California, but Jessamine couldn’t quite place it. His rather odd wording also told her exactly why no one besides her was here.

“I applied to work here because you were urgently hiring,” she answered silkily, ignoring his mannerisms. Something told her that there was more to him than just a simple, small town librarian.

“You’re a long way from Vermont, Miss Marcel, and in no condition to be doing what you’re doing,” he chastised her, wagging a disproving finger in her face as though she were some disobedient child.

Making a face, she grabbed his finger within her own fist and held it away from her. “Yes, the undead population here is a tad bit more concerning than what I had initially anticipated.”

He yanked back his finger as though she had burned him and grabbed her binder, flipping through it, his facial features occasionally twitching as he took in the information she provided.

“The vampire problem is being handled appropriately. However there isn’t much to do about the werewolf working the council, and she hasn’t attacked anyone yet, anyway. Besides, you know that’s not what I was referring to,” he insisted while not looking at her at all.

“I’m not looking for anything here other than a job. I don’t know what you’ve heard about me, and I don’t expect you to outright believe me, but I don’t mean to cause any trouble. I haven’t the faintest clue as to what’s going on over there, only that me and my child aren’t safe. This library is a safe haven unless threatened, and I am no threat. At least not to you,” she assuaged, dragging back the brown leather binder to her chest and cradling it.

The taller man considered her suspiciously, taking in her slightly haggard appearance and desperate brown eyes. “But you mean to become a threat for someone, no?”

“Not anyone who wasn’t a threat to me first. If it’s any consolation, I don’t know who’s after me, or why. But they killed the father of my child and it seems to have something to do with me. I want no part in whatever grapple for power is going down in that part of the country. I intend to make this my home and make a life for my baby here,” she swore, leveling him with a determined stare.

He swallowed at the severity of her words, the ingenuity leeching out of every pore, in a way that only a mother could manage. He knew who she was before coming here and he wasn’t particularly concerned about the potential consequences. He was powerful enough to take on any sinister forces and it wasn’t like he was the only supernatural being in Santa Carla willing to shed blood to protect their livelihoods. Plus, he could feel that baby, there was more about this entire situation and he knew the Great Mother would prefer him to protect her wounded daughter than return her to her original coven.

“My name is Leighten Waters, I am the librarian of the Santa Carla Public Library as well as the magik head of this region. I am in great need of a historian and welcome your expertise and qualifications. Allow me to explain your duties and lead you to your new living arrangements.”

~*~*~*~*~

End of Chapter 2

Tbh, i’m not that happy with it because it doesn’t have a whole lot to do with the plot and isn’t that interesting but don’t worry, lovelies, it’s all for world building and the introduction of the OC

I know this chapter doesn’t give off much about her, but I just wanted to build a foundation before I got into anything else. We will be learning more about her and her backstory in later chapters and i’m planing on having her meet Dwayne soon ;)

Oop sorry spoilers, but that’s all for now, i hope y’all enjoy and stay interested bc there’s a lot more to come. Pls like, share, reblog, send asks and comments

[solitaria-fantasma]

((Happy Holidays, @talifu! I’m you’re secret santa! :D You asked for ‘found family fluff’, so I hope this is to your liking!))

“…..and Aunt Leigh says her presents should arrive in time for the new year, at least.” Vivi pinned the phone against her shoulder, as she needed both hands to properly tie the large, blue ribbon she was wrangling into an appropriately smooth bow. “It sucks they can’t arrive in time, but that’s just how it’s been, shipping through Country Convey, lately. Hate to say ‘she should have known better’, but-“ The woman stopped mid-sentence, and winced. “Yeah, you’re right. Sorry, mom.” Vivi tied off the bow, and spun around on her stool to set the wrapped box on top of a pile on the other end of the desk.

“Are you guys going to try and video call after the luncheon?” She asked as she stood up and hastily started one-handedly putting away her supplies; scissors go back in the pencil can, roll up the unused ribbon, fold over a piece of the tape so it doesn’t get stuck to anything, etc. “I know you guys have a packed schedule - it’s like the cruise crew doesn’t want to give you any time to contemplate international crime! ….ah, ah, ah, I heard dad laugh.” Vivi tossed the last roll of ribbon into the desk draw and once more pinned her phone against her shoulder as she gathered the pile of presents into her arms.

“….okay, so sometime after eight then?” The young woman shouldered open the door and sidestepped out into the hallway beyond, walking sideways to be able to see where she was going around her armful of gifts. “I’ll let everyone know so that we can eat beforehand. Don’t fall overboard. I love you!” She left the phone in place as she crab walked down the stairs as fast as she dared, and out the already-open apartment door. “Hey, Mystery, give me a hand, here!”

“I have none to spare.” The kitsune’s muffled voice came from inside the van parked at the end of the short walkway, and a moment later, the rear doors clicked, and slowly swung open. Her dog sat on the floor with his paws together, wagging his stubby tail smugly. “I do, however, have a few paws you can borrow.”

“Ha ha.” Mystery skittered back as Vivi plopped down the pile of presents where he’d been sitting. “Grandma says ‘hi’, by the way.”

“I’m certain she did.” Mystery twitched his ears as Vivi began sliding the presents back against the bench seat in such a way that they (hopefully) wouldn’t fall in transit. “Are we still picking up the Kingsmen? Or did Lance get his truck back yet?”

“We’re still picking them up.” Vivi climbed into the van and shut the doors behind her. “Gawain said he’d fly over on his own right about now, so it’ll just be Lance and Arthur. Oh, and don’t bring up the truck thing with Lance today - he’s about ready to duplex that tow company owner.” The woman rolled herself over the back of the bench seat, and Mystery watched her flail her way over with one ear cocked to the side before gathering his legs beneath him and hopping over himself. He climbed up into the passenger seat as Vivi clicked her seatbelt and turned the ignition, and quickly circled twice before settling down.

“Buckle up, ’Stree!” Vivi warned as she checked her mirrors. “We’re three minutes late, so I’ve got to make up that time!”

“While still obeying the speed limit I hoooOOOOPE!” Mystery let out a yelp as Vivi hit the gas pedal, and he was rudely flattened back against the seat.

…….

Arthur looked at the picture on the wall, and sighed quietly.

It was old, and covered with the dust of years of neglect. Lance didn’t use this closet for much more than storage, and he usually didn’t bother with anything above the fourth shelf, these days. The faces of the figures smiling back from the frame were all but obscured under the grime, and Arthur didn’t make any move to wipe it away. He wasn’t sure he could handle looking his parents in the eye on a good day, and let alone on a day like today.

Arthur turned away from the picture after a few minutes, and started half-heartedly sifting through the unorganized assortment of old boxes, tools, and sundry items. He shouldn’t be giving any thought to the people who clearly didn’t have any to give to him, he knew… after more than a decade without a single visit, phone call, or even a letter, they weren’t worth his time, nor any of his effort. But there was still that pit in the bottom of his stomach that couldn’t help but feel disappointed… as if he were missing out on-

“Did you find the tape yet?” Lance’s voice shouted from down the hall. Arthur shook himself out of his thoughts, and quickly grabbed a roll of Bourbon tape out of the box in front of him.

“Yeah, I got it.” He shouted back, stepping out of the closet. He paused with his hand on the doorknob, feeling the chill of the metal beneath his palm, and contemplating the chill he felt inside. Then, he took a deep breath, and shut the door on his past.

“Then let’s get going.” Lance was waiting by the front door, jacket tossed casually over one shoulder, and a full canvas bag over the other, as Arthur jogged into the front room of the apartment. “Your lady’s waiting outside already.”

“I just need to fix this real quick.” Arthur pulled a piece of tape from the dispenser and held the plastic in his mouth as he carefully lined up the torn edges of the wrapping paper to tape them back together. He’d been a little too rough with his prosthetic hand when gathering everything up, and had accidentally punched a small void in the package. The Pepper girls probably wouldn’t care about a small tear, but Arthur did, and he wasn’t about to give a ripped gift. “Th’rrr ree go.” Arthur spat out the tape dispenser, and tossed it on the hall table. “Now we can go.”

“Finally…” Lance opened the door and propped it open with one foot, waving his nephew through ahead of him. “Gawain headed over about ten minutes ago. Let’s go give him a little back up.” Arthur shook his head as he hustled down the front steps, but he wore a fond smile as he approached the van pulled up in the shop parking lot. Vivi opened the driver’s side door as he approached, and scooted herself over on the bench seat, squishing Mystery against the door until he fled into the footwell with a grumble.

“Not a scratch on her - just like I promised!” The woman smiled as Arthur leaned over the seat to add his presents to the pile. Lance opened the back doors and tossed in his own bag before climbing up, himself. “My folks say they’ll try to video call around 8pm, give or take. There’s a karaoke event they signed up for at seven, and that might make them late.”

“We should be done with dinner by then, either way.” Arthur readjusted the van’s mirrors for safety, and clicked his seatbelt on. “You all set back there, Uncle?”

“Just don’t take any turns at mach Jesus, and I’ll be fine.” Lance waved a hand over the back of the seats in response. Arthur laughed a little, and pulled out of the parking lot at a reasonable speed.

…….

“…aaaand, done!” Belle Pepper stepped back from the towering tree with a grin, and planted her hands on her hips. “Now it’s perfect!”

“I still think it needs some candles.” Cayenne muttered under her breath. Lewis lightly tapped his sister on top of her head.

“That would be a bigger fire hazard than me.” He reminded her gently. Cayenne blew a raspberry as she waved off her big brother’s hand. Lewis tried to put on his best stern frown, but he couldn’t quite manage to dampen his fond smile. “How about, instead, you help our guests set up their dinner shrine?” He asked, nodding across the room. A small gaggle of Deadbeats were gathered above one of two small, round tables, gleefully watching three orange spirits attempt to replicate their own masterful work. “I think they could use a hand…” He watched Bran’s carefully constructed pyramid of incense sticks wobble, and clatter off the table. “...or two.” He added

“Challenge accepted!” Cayenne made a show of rolling up her sleeves before marching across the room. “Hey ladies (and Griflet)! Let a real master show you how it’s done…” Lewis straightened up, and gestured for his Deadbeats to come and join him by the tree. Most of them obeyed, but for one or two stragglers who took their time peeling away from their front row seats to Cayenne’s lesson. Belle reached up to pat one of the magenta spirits on the head as they swirled around their master, and the little ghost made a short, high pitched sound of delight.

“Has Gawain ever had a shrine?” She asked curiously. “It doesn’t look like his little buddies have ever built one before.”

“We’ve made a few for special occasions,” Lewis shook his head. “But otherwise, not really. Vivi was worried that having full access to his sense of taste all the time again might be too overwhelming, so we’ve been trying to ease him into it.” Belle let the Deadbeat she’d been patting fly off to join its fellows circling the tree. She watched as the little spirits chirped at the decorations and batted at the tinsel, and frowned quietly.

“I hope this isn’t too much for him…” She murmured. Lewis looked down at her questioningly. “I know the fam can be a bit…overwhelming…this time of year.”

“Isn’t everyone’s?” Lewis smiled. “But I wouldn’t worry, chiquita.” The ghost ruffled his sister’s hair affectionately. “He’s survived twenty minutes in the kitchen with mama already. He’ll handle the aftermath no problemo.” Belle made a show of fixing her holiday hairdo, but just as she opened her mouth to admonish Lewis, Paprika came bursting out through the kitchen doors, holding a basket bursting with bread twists.

“FOOD’S READY!” The nine year old yelled out enthusiastically. Immediately, she was beset by a swirling cloud of Deadbeats, and Lewis whispered something under his non-existent breath before scrambling to shoo them away.

“Get, get!” The ghost scolded. “You can’t have any until everyone’s here, you know this! Riki, hurry! Get to the table!” Savina Pepper propped open the kitchen door with one foot as she watched her youngest sprint for the large party table already set for their many guests, pursued by the hungry deadbeats and her eldest.

“Hmm. The bread made it out of the kitchen this year.” She mused before turning to the blond standing beside her. “Let’s take advantage of the distraction to get the appetizers to the table while Cori gets dessert into the fridge.” She held the door open for their new guest, and then let the door swing shut as she took the lead. “Lance texted just a minute ago to say they were on their way, so we should be able to sit down in about ten minutes or so. Vivi can help us get your shrine set up as soon as she puts down all the gifts.”

Gawain trailed after the woman, moving his feet out of old habit, but making no sound as he followed her to the table, and placed down the bowls of tostones and chickaritos he’d been asked to carry. Across the table, Paprika slammed down the basket of bread twists and shoved it into the middle before diving under the table with a shriek of laughter, followed by a wave of magenta spirits. Lewis came to a stop at the table, and took a big, showy deep breath.

“Where do they get the energy, mama?” He asked rhetorically. Savina - mother of four and career child-friendly restaurant owner - only smiled knowingly and headed back toward the kitchen. Bran sidled up to Gawain’s right shoulder, clearly eyeing the unattended bread twists, and the ghost lightly bopped her on the snout.

“Absolutely not.” He told her. “We’re guests here, remember - I’ll not have you upsetting our hosts because you can’t wait five minutes to have a snack.” Bran made a dramatic (though quiet) wailing sound, and draped herself over Gawain’s shoulders like an empty sock. Lewis laughed out loud, and his hair rippled into a small flame before regaining its usual shape.

“Aww, don’t worry, Bran,” He told the little spirit. “There’ll be plenty of food left over for you guys, too.” A sudden knocking came at the door, and Bran quickly stood up at attention, as did all the Deadbeats that had been chasing Paprika. 

“Perfect timing.” Gawain sighed as Chopper and Grifflet zoomed by, picking up Bran on their way to hover at the front door. Lewis shook his head as Arthur walked in, and was immediately beset by a colorful cloud of excited little ghosts.

“We should probably go help them.” He said.

“Probably.” Gawain nodded. Still, neither ghost moved as a grinning Lance sneaked inside, using his nephew as a distraction, and Vivi simply bulldozed her way through them with her armful of presents, all wrapped in shades of blue.

…….

Hours later, when the crumbs had all been eaten and the dishes had all been washed, they all sat around at the base of the tree, strewn about on pillows stolen from upstairs bedrooms and chairs nicked from the queue benches. They played cards for peppermint sticks until, one by one, the children began to yawn, and were herded to bed by soft-voiced parents and equally-sleepy Deadbeats.

Eventually, even the young adults began to turn in. Gawain gave in to the call of sleep first, much to Vivi’s disbelief, allowing Bran to take hold of his anchor pendant as he retreated in rest. The orange spirit had wound her way up the decorated tree like a string of tinsel before snuggling down between a cork labeled with “He said yes!” and an orb covered in bright white glitter paint snowflakes. Gawain’s pendent dangled from her mouth, glowing faintly, just like the fairy lights wound around the branches, and Grifflet and Chopper soon joined them. Finally, even the Pepper parents decided to call it a night, and bid goodnight to the only four still awake.

Mystery carefully stretched his long limbs, mindful of the presents piled just at the edge of his reach, and laid his head down on his outstretched paws with a yawn. Lewis leaned back against his side, lazily scratching behind Mystery’s ear with one hand as he held a steaming mug of hot coco in the other. Arthur leaned against his side opposite the coco, and Vivi lay across both their laps, drunk on spiked eggnog and peppermint.

“What a night, huh boys?” The woman laughed quietly, staring up at the starry projection Gawain had conjured up for the girls at some point during the card came. He had run out of peppermint sticks to give away, so Belle had come up with a clever solution. “Great food, better company, warm boyfriends to lounge against…” She trailed off with another laugh as Arthur wiggled his trapped foot.

“The first of many, I hope.” Lewis held his mug up in a solo cheer, and for a moment, Arthur remembered the cold feeling in his stomach with sharp clarity. He looked up at the tree - at the mementos of happy memories lovingly crafted and hung in abundance, and the spirits sleeping scattered within its branches - and wondered, just for a moment, what a tree made by his parents would have looked like. There wouldn’t have been so many different colors of lights. There wouldn’t have been paper ornaments covered in glitter and feathers, meticulously prepared and saved from the first holiday of 2nd grade.

There wouldn’t have been orange branches and shimmery needles, carefully selected to enjoy the holiday without triggering a deep-rooted fear of the color green that still dogged his footsteps, even years later.

“Arthur?” The blond came back out of his thoughts to find Vivi propped up on her elbows, and Lewis looking down at him curiously. “You good over there? You’ve been pretty quiet.”

“I’m….good.” Arthur paused just long enough to avoid the dreaded ‘f’ word, and relaxed into Lewis’ side. Vivi wiggled herself around until she was lying parallel between her boyfriends’ legs, and Arthur moved his flesh hand to start running his fingers through her blue hair. “I was just doing some thinking, I guess.”

“Deep thoughts?” Lewis joked, and Arthur cracked a smile.

“Mariana Trench deep.” He retorted, and whatever remained of the cold feeling in his stomach suddenly felt much warmer. It didn’t matter what a tree decorated by his parents would have looked like, Arthur realized.

This one - decorated by his family - was much, much better.

[aspenmissing]

𝙰 𝚅𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚂𝚞𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚊𝚕 𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚖𝚊𝚜 (𝙿𝚝 𝟷)

A girl is looking outside through the glass door and a woman stands outside, being interviewed.

"Um, my daughter and I were in out beds" She says "Mike was downstairs decorating the tree. I heard a thump on the rood and then I heard Mike scream. And now I'm talking to the FBI"

"And you didn't see any of it?" Y/N asks, dressed in formal wear.

"No, he was...he was gone"

"The doors were locked? There was no forced entry?"

"That's right"

"Does anybody else have a key?" Y/N asks.

"My parents"

"Where do they live?"

"Florida" Sam and Dean, in suits, walk out of the house.

"Thanks for letting us have a look around, Mrs. Walsh" Dean says.

"I think, we, uh, got just about everything we need" Sam says. He looks to Y/N "We're all set.

"We'll be in touch" she says. Mrs. Walsh nods and the siblings walk down the steps.

"Agents...." She calls. The three turn around.

"The police said my husband might have been kidnapped"

"Could be" Dean says.

"Then why haven't the kidnappers called? O-or - or demanded a ransom? It's three days till Christmas. What am I supposed to tell our daughter?" The three looks at each other.

"We're very sorry" Sam, Y/N and Dean walk away and Mrs. Walsh turns to go inside.

"Find anything?" Y/N asks. Sam sighs.

"Stocking, mistletoe...this" Sam gives Y/N something out of his pocket.

"A tooth? Where was this?" Y/N asks, examining the tooth.

"In the chimney" Dean says.

"Chimney? No way a man fits up a chimney. It's too narrow"

"No way he fits up in one piece"

"Alright, so, if dad went up the chimney-"

"We need to find out what dragged him up there"

==

Inside a motel, pictures of demons are pinned up on the wall. Sam sat at the table on his laptop when the door opens and the twins walk inside, Dean carrying a brown paper bag.

"So, was I right? Is it the serial-killing chimney sweep?" Dean says.

"Yep. It's, uh, it's actually Dick Van Dyke" Sam says.

"Who?"

"Mary Poppins"?"

"Who's that?"

"Oh, come on- never mind" Sam waves his hand.

"Well, it turns out that Walsh is the second guy in town grabbed out of his house this month" Y/N says.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah"

"The other guy gets dragged up the chimney, too?"

"Don't know. Witnesses said they heard a thump on the roof" Y/N says and the three shrug

"So, what the hell do you think we're dealing with" Dean asks.

"Actually, I have an idea"

"Yeah?" Y/N asks.

"Uh, it's gonna sound crazy"

"What could you possibly say that sounds crazy to us"

"Um...evil Santa" Sam says, smiling. Y/N snorts. Dean pauses and then nods.

"Yeah, that's crazy"

" Yeah... I mean, I'm just saying that there's some version of the anti-Claus in every culture" Sam shows Dean and Y/N some evil Santa pictures "You got Belsnickel, Krampus, Black Peter" Dean takes the pictures from Sam “Whatever you want to call it, there's all sorts of lore"

"Saying what?" Y/N asks.

"Saying...back in the day, Santa's brother went rogue and now he shows up around Christmas time, but instead of bringing presents, he punishes the wicked"

"By hauling their ass up chimneys?"

"For starters, yeah"

"So, this is your theory, huh? Santa's shady brother?"

"Well, ah- I'm just saying, that's what the lore says"

"Santa doesn't have a brother. There is no Santa"

"Yeah, I know. You're the one who told me that in the first place, remember" Sam says looking at Dean, who looks down, maybe feeling a little guilty. Sam turns back to his computer and sighs "Yeah, you know what, I could be wrong. I ... " Sam sighs again, shutting his laptop "gotta be wrong"

"Maybe, maybe not" Y/N says.

"What?"

"We did a little digging" Y/N says, gesturing to Dean "Turns out both victims visited the same place before they got snatched"

"Where?"

==

Christmas music plays, children are playing, and people wearing costumes are walking around.

"It does kind of lend credence to the theory, don't it?" Dean says.

"Yeah, but anti-Claus? Couldn't be"

"It's a Christmas miracle"

"Hey, speaking of, we should have one this year" Y/N says.

"Have on what?" Sam asks.

"A Christmas" Sam scoffs.

"No, thanks"

"No, we'll get a tree, a little Boston market, just like when we were little"

"I actually like the idea of that" Dean says.

"Guys, those weren't exactly Hallmark memories for me, you know"

"What are you talking about? We had some great Christmases"

"Whose childhood are you talking about?"

"Oh, come on, Sam" Y/N says.

"No! Just...no" Dean and Y/N look at him surprised.

"All right, Grinch" Dean mutters. The two walk away, while Sam stands still. Suddenly he notices a reindeer statue staring at him. Sam looks uncomfortable.

==Flashback: Christmas Eve, 1991==

Reindeers pull Santa's sleigh across the sky on the TV, which is playing ‘A Year Without Santa Claus’. An 8-year-old Sam turns away from the TV and back to the couch, where he starts to wrap two things with newspaper.

"What is that?" A 12-year-old Y/N asks, kneeling beside him.

"Yeah, right. Where'd you get the money? Steal it?" A 12-year-old Dean asks, who's standing by the window. Y/N glares at him.

"No. Uncle Bobby gave it to me to give to him. Said it was really special"

"What is it?" Y/N asks.

"A pony" Sam says sarcastically. Y/N smiles whereas Dean scoffs.

"Very funny"

“What about the other one?" Y/N asks.

"I made that for him myself"

"I bet he'll love it" Sam continues to wrap the presents. Dean then comes over and sits on the couch next to them and picks up a magazine.

"Dad's gonna be here, right?" Sam says, looking up at Y/N.

"He'll be here" she says.

"It's Christmas"

"He knows and he'll be here. Promise"

"Where is he anyway?"

"On business" Dean says.

"What kind of business?"

"You know that. He sells stuff"

"What kind of stuff?"

"Stuff"

"Nobody ever tells me anything" Dean rolls his eyes.

"Then quit asking" Y/N glares at Dean, but he shrugs.

"We wish we could tell you, Sam, but Dad won't let us" Y/N says softly. “So, please stop asking. Okay?" Sam nods. Dean leaves the two and walks to the bed. She shoves garbage and food wrappers off of it and opens the magazine.

"Is Dad a spy?"

"Mm-hmm. He's James Bond"

"Why do we move around so much?"

"'Cause everywhere we go, they get sick of your face" Dean says.

"I'm old enough, guys. You can tell me the truth"

"You don't want to know the truth. Believe me" Y/N says.

"Is that why we never talk about...Mom?" Sam says cautiously. Y/N tenses, side glancing at Dean who tosses the magazine away angrily and stands up.

"Shut up! Don't you ever talk about Mom. Ever!"

"He was just asking, Dean!" Y/N says, standing up and facing her twin brother. Dean begins to head for the door, opening it.

"Wait, where are you going?" Sam asks.

"Out"

"You better stay out there till you calm down!" Y/N says before Dean shuts the door behind him.

"Did I do something wrong?" Sam says, looking up at Y/N.

"No, just, Mom's a hard subject to talk about around Dean. Don't worry though"

"Are you gonna leave if I talk about...Mom?" Sam asks. Y/N kneels down beside him, smiling softly.

"No, I'm never gonna leave you" she says, ruffling his hair. “Ask me whatever you like about Mom.”

==Flashback End==

Sam is still lost in memories as Dean and Y/N walk beside him.

"You'd think with the 10 bucks it costs to get into this place, Santa could scrounge up a little snow" Dean says.

"What?" Sam asks, awakening from his daydreaming.

"Nothing"

"What are we looking for, again?" Y/N asks.

"Um..." Sam looks around "lore says that the anti-Claus will walk with a limp and smell like sweets"

"Great. So, we're looking for a pimp Santa" Dean says "Why the sweets?"

"Think about it, Dean. If you smell like candy, the kids will come closer, you know?"

"That's creepy" Y/N says. Sam chuckles "How does this thing know who's been naughty and who's been nice?"

"I don't know" A man wearing a Santa costume sits outside a small barn. A woman and a boy walk up to him.

"So, Ronny, come sit on Santa's knee" The boy sits "Ah, there you go. You been a good boy this year?"

"Yeah"

"Good. Santa's got a special gift for you" He cackles creepily. Dean looks at Santa and the boy speculatively.

"Maybe we do" Ronny's mother takes his arm and leads him away from the Santa.

"Come on, honey, let's go" A woman in an elf costume walks up to Sam, Dean, and Y/N.

"Welcome to Santa's court. Can I escort your child to Santa?"

"Uh..."

"No. No. Uh, but actually, our brother here" Dean smacks Sam on the shoulder "...it's been a lifelong dream of his" The elf looks at Sam.

"Uh, sorry. No kids over...12"

"No, he's just kidding. We only came here to watch" Y/N facepalms. The woman looks at Dean, who shakes his head.

"Eww" she says.

"No, he didn't mean like that" Y/N says "You see, my brother here is just really nervous around beautiful women like yourself" The elf looks away, blushing.

"Oh, um, thank you"

"And what he meant by watching is that he's watching the Santa because my husband, uh, back home is looking after our daughter" Y/N lies. "And she dreams of meeting Santa so my brother wants to surprise her and dress up as him and he wants to know how to be the perfect Santa"

"Aww, you’re such a good uncle" The elf says, looking at Sam who smiles "Well, I'm sorry for the misunderstanding, please enjoy the rest of your day" The woman walks away.

"You’re welcome, you idiots" Dean laughs.

"Dude, you were like shitting yourself" Dean then suddenly turns serious.

"Check it out" The three watch the Santa leave his chair. Santa walks with a bad limp "Are you seeing this?"

"A lot of people walk with limps, right?" The Santa walks past the three.

"Tell me you didn't just smell that" Y/N says "That was candy, guys"

"That was Ripple. I think. Had to be" Sam says as he looks at Santa again.

"Maybe. We're willing to take that chance?"

==

Inside the Impala, the three are spying on a simple house that is decorated with Christmas lights.

"What time is it?" Dean asks.

"Same as the last time you asked" Y/N says from the passenger seat.

"Here" Sam hands Dean a thermos "Caffeinate" Dean takes the thermos from Sam and tries to pour coffee into the cup, but the thermos in empty.

"Wonderful" Dean throws it into the back seat beside Sam "Hey, Sam"

"Yeah?"

"Why are you the boy that hates Christmas?"

"Dean..."

"I mean, I admit it. You know, we have a few bumpy holidays when we were kids"

"Bumpy"?"

"That was then. We'll do it right this year" Y/N says.

"Look, guys. If you want to have Christmas, knock yourselves out. Just don't involve me" Dean and Y/N share a look. They then return to watch the house. Santa, still in his red cap, but in a green tank top, looks outside, then closes his curtains.

"What's up with Saint Nicotine?" Y/N asks.

"Oh, my God!" A woman's voice shouts. The three jump out of the car and run to the house with their guns drawn. Y/N looks inside the window of the front door.

"Huh" Sam says.

"What?" Dean asks.

"Nothing. It's just that, uh... well, you know, Mr. Gung Ho Christmas might have to blow away Santa" Y/N opens the door. Santa is sitting on the couch, holding a giant bong and a bottle of whiskey. Santa stands up and the three quickly hide their guns.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Dean looks around and realizes Santa's only watching TV. Dean looks at Sam and Y/N, who shrug. Dean starts to sing-badly.

"S-silent night...Holy..." Dean looks at Sam and Y/N, who follow him, shrugging, and both smiling.

".... night" Santa chuckles and sits down to enjoy the show "All is well..."

"...all is dry" Santa also sings along.

"Bright..."

"Round and round..." They try to sing although they don't remember the lyrics.

"The table..." Sam puts a hand on Dean's shoulder to pull him away, followed by Y/N.

==

The three are inside of a large house in the living room, interviewing a woman, who has a bruise on her eye.

"So, that's how your son described the attack? "Santa took daddy up the chimney"?"

"That's what he says, yes"

"And where were you?" Y/N asks.

"I was asleep and all of a sudden" She sniffs "...I was being dragged out of bed, screaming"

"Did you see the attacker?" The woman shakes her head.

"It was dark, and he hit me. He knocked me out" Dean nods.

"I'm sorry. I know this is hard"

“Yeah...um, Mrs. Caldwell, where, where did you get that wreath above the fireplace?" Dean and Y/N look around at the wreath, and blink. They look at each other puzzled.

"Excuse me?" Dean and Y/N look at Sam, waiting for an answer. Sam shrugs, smiling, feeling embarrassed.

"Just curious, you know" Later, the three exit the house and walk back to the Impala.

"Wreaths, huh? Sure, you didn't want to ask her about her shoes? I saw some nice handbags in the foyer" Dean says.

"We've seen that wreath before, Dean"

"Where?" Y/N asks.

"The Walshes', yesterday"

"We know. We were just testing you" Dean says. Sam scoffs. They then drive away in the Impala.

==

Back at the motel room, Sam is on the phone.

"Yeah, all right. Well, keep looking, would you? Thanks, Bobby" He hangs up " Well... we're not dealing with the anti-Claus"

"What did Bobby say?"

"Uh, that we're morons"

"Sounds like Bobby" Y/N says.

"He also said that it was probably meadowsweet in those wreaths" Sam says, looking at his laptop.

"Wow! Amazing. What the hell is meadowsweet?" Dean asks.

"It's pretty rare and it's probably the most powerful plant in pagan lore"

"Pagan lore?" Dean asks.

"Yeah. See, they used meadowsweet for human sacrifice. It was kind of like a... Chum for their gods. Gods were drawn to it and they'd stop by and snack on whatever was the nearest human"

"Why would somebody be using that for Christmas wreaths?" Y/N asks.

"It's not as crazy as it sounds, Guys. I mean, pretty much every Christmas tradition is Pagan.

"No, Jesus's birthday was probably in the fall. It was actually the winter solstice festival that was co-opted by the Church and renamed "Christmas". But I mean, the Yule log, the tree, even Santa's red suit - that's all remnants of pagan worship" Dean looks at Y/N in surprise in shock.

"How do you know that?" Dean asks.

"Where do you think Sam got it from." She asks. Dean looks between Sam and Y/N.

"What are you gonna tell me next? Easter bunny's Jewish?" The two don't reply.

"So, you think we're gonna dealing with a pagan God?" Y/N asks.

"Yeah, probably Hold Nickar, God of the winter solstice"

"And all these Martha Stewart wanna be, buying these fancy wreaths..."

"Yeah, it's pretty much like putting a neon sign on your front door saying "Come kill us"

"Great" Sam reads an article on the laptop.

"Huh...When you sacrifice to Hold Nicktar, guess what he gives you in return"

"Lap dances, hopefully" Dean jokes.

"Mild weather" Y/N looks out the window.

"Like no snow in the middle of December in the middle of Michigan" Y/N says.

"For instance,"

"Do we know how to kill it yet?" Y/N asks.

"No, Bobby's working on that right now. We got to figure out where they're selling those wreaths"

"You think they're selling them on purpose?" Dean asks "Feeding the victims to this thing?" Sam exhales.

"Let's find out"

[dreamescapeswriting]

Tripped Into Love ~ MYG [Request]

WORD COUNT: 3.5k

PAIRING: Yoongi x Fem!Reader

GENRE: Fluffy, friends to lovers, opposites attract, best friends friend, fluffy yoongi, yoongi having a crush on the reader

Yoongi was 100% without a doubt in love with you. There was something about the way you dressed. The way you acted. The way you held yourself. You were the complete opposite of everything he was and everything he thought he wanted in a partner. Everything about you had him head over heels in love with you. 

From the moment he met you he knew there was something about you that drew him in. Something that made him feel as though he could never let you out of his life. Jungkook wanted you all to meet and so he set it up, way back before everyone debuted. Yoongi figured you would be exactly like Jungkook but he couldn’t have been more wrong. The fact that Jungkook felt the need to warn the boys about you should have been his first guess that you were nothing as he was expecting but in a good way.

“Just remember I said Y/n can get a little excited over things, and when she sees something she thinks is cute she’ll keep telling you how cute she finds it,” Yoongi rolled his eyes at the persistent Jungkook. He’d been going on for the last hour about you. His best friend. Someone he’d known since the two of you was able to walk and talk. Jungkook just wanted to prepare Yoongi about you, he knew how temperamental Yoongi could get with things and he didn’t want there to be any issues.

“I told you, I’ll say hello and leave.” Yoongi reminded him as he sat on the dorms sofa and waited for the doorbell to ring. Jungkook wanted you to meet everybody since you were going to be seeing them all a lot more now your best friend was going to be training more.

“That’s her,” Jungkook breathed out as he walked over to the door calling you to come in. Yoongi couldn’t see you at first because Jungkook had his arms wrapped around your body. 

“Come in, this is Jimin and you already know Tae.” Yoongi kept his eyes on the door waiting for your arrival and when it finally came his jaw almost dropped open. Not only were you beautiful but you seemed so happy to be there. A smile plastered across your face as you held up a bag for Jungkook to see, 

“I got everyone something. I couldn’t resist.” Taking the bag over to the coffee table in front of Yoongi you smiled at him and his heart practically lept from his chest. The way you smiled at him did all sorts of things he never thought would happen. 

“I’m Y/n,” You shook his hand and he smiled, beginning to stammer over his words trying to introduce himself to you. Never in a million years had he ever been this shy around someone. 

“That’s Yoongi, he’s one of our rappers,” Jimin said as he sat beside Yoongi, poking his side and earning a death glare from Yoongi. 

“I can tell,” You joked about the way he was stammering and let out the most heavenly giggle Yoongi had ever heard in his life. It was something he would feature in the back of a song if you would ever let him.

“What did you get us?” Jungkook asked as he stood beside you trying to peek into the bag. You smirked before rummaging through it. Yoongi still couldn’t take his eyes off you. The dress you were wearing looked as though it had been plucked from a barbie doll but it wasn’t anything too much for the eyes. A simple A-Line dress that went to below your knees, short puffy sleeves with a lace-up-front. Covered in cute strawberries. You had paired it with a pair of pink vans and Yoongi instantly could tell what your favourite colour was from the first look at you. 

“Yoongi!” Taehyung began snapping his fingers in front of Yoongi’s face to pull him back into the conversation. All of the boys were staring at him holding cute stuffed animals while you grinned at him. There was clearly something on his mind that was taking up his attention but you had no idea that it was you.

“I got you one too,” You smiled holding up a black and white stuffed cat. It was larger than a small sofa cushion and adorable. Yoongi couldn’t help but smile even more as he took it from you carefully, giving it a small squeeze. 

The boys all exchanged looks with one another as Yoongi had a slight blush to his cheeks. It was shocking for them to see him so shy in front of someone but they were going to enjoy seeing him like this for a while. 

“I figured since Jungkook always tells me how much you look like a kitty,” You smiled sweetly at him and he couldn’t help but smile more. Not only was it a kind gesture but it was something he never would have expected. 

“I love him,” He breathed out as he looked up at you. Jungkook could already see what was beginning to happen and he wasn’t going to put a stop to it. Only encourage it, it would be a breath of fresh air to see Yoongi so happy around someone. 

Yoongi stayed longer in the living room with you and Jungkook, agreeing to watch any movie with you that you were willing to put on. He never would have pegged himself as the guy to sit and watch copious amounts of Disney movies just because someone asked him to.

Smiling to himself Yoongi bopped the cat toy you had gotten him on the nose, he had kept it for eight years and kept him on his desk in each studio he stayed in. It never left his side unless he went home for the night. It had been eight years of Yoongi being in love with you and he had never once admitted to you or confessed to you that it was all happening. Why would he want to ruin something that was already perfect? 

Jungkook knew of Yoongi’s feelings for you and had confronted Yoongi about it trying to convince his Hyung to tell you the truth. That he would feel even better once the feelings were out in the open. But he never did. He never wanted to risk the friendship that you and Jungkook had, nor did he want to ruin the friendship you and he had. 

The two of you had begun to get close over the years, hanging out together whenever Jungkook was busy or just because you wanted to be around one another. The two of you had movie nights, take-out nights and even lunch dates together. You knew what he was like for forgetting to eat so you made sure to bring him a homecooked lunch at least once a week, two if you could push it. 

Yoongi figured it was something you did for Jungkook as a friend and he let it continue on, having no idea that it was because you were head over heels in love with him. 

The moment you met him you couldn’t help but feel a yearn for him. You needed to be around him at all times or you would feel sort of lost without him. It was hard to explain and you had tried to explain it to Jungkook too many times you were beginning to lose count. 

“I thought we were going to have lunch,” You complained to Jungkook as he stood inside one of the dance studios sweating and panting heavily. It was your annual lunch in the HYBE canteen.

“I got caught up in a late practice. I’ll be out in an hour or two,” You rolled your eyes at him playfully before agreeing to go off on your own. It wasn’t the first time he had suddenly become busy while you were supposed to visit him. The joys of being friends with a kpop idol.  

It wasn’t as though you were going to be bored you could just go and sit with Namjoon or Yoongi. Whichever you happened to run into first on your way up to their studios.

“Hey! I thought you were going to lunch,” Namjoon’s voice filled the hallway and Yoongi frowned as he turned to look at who he was talking to. He’d gone out to get a small cup of coffee before going back on his break. He thought he was the only one around on the floor.  

As soon as his eyes landed on you he couldn’t help but smile. Your back was to him but he could already tell it was you because of the outfit. A soft pink jumper and matching plaid skirt, your pair of pink vans that Yoongi had gotten you for Christmas. 

The fact that you wore them almost every day bought a huge smile to Yoongi’s face whenever he saw you. It was secret Santa with the boys and Yoongi swapped with everyone until he got you. 

“Jungkook is practising so I was coming up to see if you or Yoongi were free,” Yoongi’s heart almost combust hearing that you wanted to spend time with him. Whenever you were around him it felt as though he was going to have a heart attack or at least have his heart suddenly burst out from his chest and confess to you itself. 

“Well, I’m not but I think Yoongi might be considering he’s staring at us,” Yoongi felt himself beginning to burn up as your body turned around to see him. Standing there holding a paper cup of coffee and smiling shyly over at you. The sight alone was enough to make you smile and heart sing, 

“Thanks, Joonie,” You hugged him goodbye before rushing over to join Yoongi beside his studio door.

“If you’re doing something I don’t have to.” You didn’t want to ever push your presence onto anybdoy but Yoongi shook his head at you. There was nothing that could stop him from inviting you into his studio. Spending more and more time with you. 

“I’m free, you can come and sit with me. I just finished a song, you can help me decide if I like it.” He smirked a little as you began to jump up and down on the spot getting excited at the thought of seeing a sneak peek of a song. 

“I think this will be the first time you’ve ever allowed me into the studio…” He thought back on all of the times you had been there and it was true. Mostly because he never wanted you to see him working, he would drown out the world and end up ignoring you. Or there was the possibility that you being in his studio would be far more distracting and he didn’t think he would be able to concentrate on anything but you. 

“It’s nothing much,” He pushed in the password and you looked away. You knew how private Yoongi was about things and you didn’t want him to have to change the password because you had seen it.  

“Welcome,” He breathed out as he pushed the door open.

Eyes dancing around the studio you couldn’t help but smile at everything around you, looking at the huge audio mixer, three monitors that were at his set up. Two on the desk and a larger flatscreen mounted onto the wall above his desk. There was a keyboard beside the desk that was put away whenever he wasn’t using it. A sofa sitting on the opposite side where the boys would sit and a small recording booth to the side. 

“This place is huge,” You gasped out as you looked at his desk. The mixer took up a little more than half of the desk, then there was a keyboard and mouse ready for him to use. 

As you were about to ask about what every button did on the mixer you saw it. It being the cat you had gotten for him all of those years ago. To your knowledge, the rest of the boys just put them away never to be seen again but the cat was there. Dressed in a miniature version of Yoongi’s Daechwita outfit. 

“You kept him?" There was genuine surprise in your voice as you looked at the small animal sitting there.

"Of course, you gave him to me and I love him." He chuckled watching you as you began to pick up the stuffed animal. Holding it close to your chest, 

"So cute! Did you get this made for him?" You questioned looking at the small outfit. It had every last detail from Yoongi's rags outfit in the video on the teddy. 

"Yeah, I got it made after the video dropped." It was a lie. He got it custom made the moment you told Yoongi how much you loved the video on set. 

He'd invited Jungkook to film with him and you'd tagged along to watch everything for the two days of filming. Watching Yoongi act tough as Agust D always made you feel something inside you couldn't quite explain. Even when he was dressed in the rags it made your heart skip and your stomach flip. 

"I love the video and song so much," You admitted as you put the cat down onto the desk. 

The video shoot had been one of the most amazing two days of your life. Yoongi had tried to convince you to get in the video but you declined, just wanting to watch the master at work. 

"Do you remember when you burnt your hand?" You looked at him remembering the scene where he had been bound near fire. He'd accidentally slipped and burnt his hands on one of the metal holders when he was trying to impress you. 

"How could I forget?" He whined looking at the small burn on the back of his hand, nothing large but just a small pink mark where he had gone into contact with the metal bowl. 

"It healed nicely," You told him as you took his hand into yours to take a look at the mark. Your fingers softly running over the faint mark as you inspected it. Yoongi's heart lept into his throat as you held his hand. A spark radiating from his entire body.

"Only because you made me ice it right away," He reminded you,

"Because you would have scared a lot worse if I didn’t." You scolded him as you began to look over his hand, letting go of it and smiling. When he did it he tried to act tough, as though it hadn’t bothered him but you could tell by the look in his eyes that day that it hurt more than he was willing to let on.

The two of you sat down on the sofa looking at one another. Talking about anything and everything that came to your mind. You were in the middle of planning your next movie night together when he suggested a horror movie.

"I'm telling you, there is no way on this earth you can get me to watch a horror movie with you," You complained as he continued to beg you. To you, it was just a horror movie but to Yoongi it was going to be a ticket into getting you to hold you in his arms. 

"Why not? I'll be there to protect you." He announced clearly as you shook your head,

"Protect me? Who's going to protect you!" You laughed rolling your head down onto the sofa and shaking it. 

"There is no way," You repeated to him and he pouted a little. There had to be a way to get you to watch a movie like that with him. 

"What if I asked really, really nicely." He pleaded, you looked up at him before sitting straight. 

"How would you do that?" Yoongi sat up straight and looked at you, eyes turning into puppy dog eyes as he begged you.

"Will you, Y/n Y/l/n, like to watch a horror movie with me? Pretty please," You scoffed at him, 

"Have to do better than that." You told him clearly as you waited for him to continue on. Yoongi nodded,

"I'll bring you chocolates, flowers, and a new stuffed animal.” The idea made you smile a lot more than if it was something between friends.

"It'll be like a date," Your mouth spoke before your brain even had time to register what it was that you were saying. The two of you froze. Yoongi didn't laugh and neither did you. You just stared at him wondering what to say next.

"A date...Would that be a bad thing?" His voice came out soft. He was testing the waters to see what you would think about having a date with him. 

"I don't think so..." Your voice came out a little strained. Was this your way of coming clean to him and admitting your feelings for him? 

Your eyes kept staring at his lips, his eyes doing the same as he did his best not to kiss you. He didn't want to move too fast or be too forward with you. Yoongi's head moved forward just a little as if he was going to kiss you so you. His breathing was careful as he glanced at you, heart racing from how close he was. He couldn't feel his legs, his arms or his toes anymore. All he could feel was how close you were to him and that was the only thought running rampant in his head. 

Meeting him in the middle you kissed him. His lips were softer than anything you had ever felt and you began to feel weightless. Lips moving against his as you sat up straight to deepen the kiss ever so slightly. Yoongi's hands at on your waist as he smiled against your lips. This was everything he had imagined and more. 

Pulling away your eyes stayed shut, resting your forehead on his as you were unable to open your eyes. Opening them meant realising that had truly happened and the repercussions that could have come along with it. 

"Y/n I need to tell you something," The whole room seemed to tense up as he looked at you. As if the kiss wasn’t obvious enough for you he needed to tell you how he was feeling.  

"I don't think I can be friends anymore..." He admitted as he looked at you, your heart almost dropped to the pit of your stomach.

"What? I-I didn’t mean to...I thought-”

"No, Y/n...Listen," He took your hand into his and smiled softly at you. Cutting you oof as he shook his head,

"I don't want to continue as friends because I need something more...I'm in love with you. I'm in love with you more and more every time that I see you and it's getting harder and harder to keep my feelings for you at bay." Heart lept back into your throat hearing that Yoongi loved you back.

"You love me too?"

"Yes I do- wait, too?" He questioned as he raised his eyebrow not expecting to hear that you loved him back. He would have thought you liked him after the kiss but loved him?

"You think I wouldn't fall in love with you?" You giggled softly as you kissed his lips again softly. It was like a drug, every time you stopped you wanted to go back in for more.

"You light up my life Y/n...I never would have thought someone like you would ever go for someone like me." When he finished his sentence you frowned at the statement. Someone like you?

"Someone like me?"

"Someone so cute and pink...The complete opposite to who I am." He rambled on a little as he looked at you. Never in a million years would he have expected you to like him back.

"Opposites attract," You whispered as you looked at him.

"But you're so soft and gentle with us and you're unreal. You make me melt into a puddle." Giggling at the small statement you kissed his lips over and over again making him blush deeper. The effect you had on him was unreal.

"So you fell for me?" You teased as you held his hand in yours. Locking your fingers together and giving his hand a small squeeze.

"I didn't fall in love, you tripped me." He licked his lips as he looked at you. Head racing to kiss you again but he didn't want to go too far or too fast with you. He had to take you out on a date first. 

"You tripped me too," You admitted to him as you pressed your lips to his cheek. The blush growing deeper with each touch he earnt from you. 

"Let me take you to lunch...We can make it up to Jungkook another time." He admitted before kissing you softly, pulling you to stand up from the sofa. If the two of you stayed in the studio any longer he was never going to be able to let you go.

Tagline: @lyoongx​ @mitzwinchester​ @min-yus​ @rjsmochii​ @taestannie​ @sw33tnight​ @sweeneyblue1​ @agustdjoon​ @jin-from-the-block​ @acciocriativity​ @justbangtanthingz​ @taeechwitaa​ @mwitsmejk​ @stillwithlix​

[autumnleaves1991-blog]

Kiss Me Under the Mistletoe

This is my secret Santa story for @storiesofthefandomlovers​ for the Pedro’s 12 days of Christmas! I hope you love it as much as I loved writing it!

MERRY CHRISTMAS Charlie!!

A/N: Thank you to my darling @yespolkadotkitty​ & @justanotherblonde23​ for beta reading! You guys are the best!!

Pairing: Javier Pena x F! Reader

Warning: 18 + ONLY (Oral M & F receiving, light cum play, p in v sex, language)

Word Count: 3.2 K

My Masterlist

Javier was exhausted. The sweat from the never relenting heat stuck to him like a second skin; he smelled like leather and cigarette smoke. He flicked the butt out the window and rolled it up before turning off the jeep. He sighed; looking at the blinking red numbers on the clock it was well past midnight, and he had missed Christmas Eve.

Although it was late, the city was alive. Candles adorned in red and white flickered against the windows and the church he drove past swelled with the music and life of people attending midnight mass.

He opened the door and gazed up at his apartment. The same flickering candles adorned his own window and he let out a soft smile, thinking of you. How the hell he got so lucky he would never understand. You had met one afternoon at the markets, Javier had been chasing a sicario through the bustling streets and literally crashed head first into you, letting out a frantic apology and taking off again. You had never expected to see him after that, but the next weekend he was there almost waiting, watching for something.

Or as you came to learn someone, you.

He had apologized and asked you out for drinks, which then led to dinner and the most mind-blowing sex of your life. It should have just been a one night stand but you both became addicts like those of the drug he spent his life hunting, in thrall; searching for your next fix.

Javier was not a man that believed he deserved love. One night after another passionate affair, you both lay breathless, and as the curl of smoke from his cigarette lingered in the air, he told you about his job.

The men he hunted, the death and destruction he had seen and even been subjected too. “To catch bad people, you have to do bad things,” he had once said, his arms wrapped around your waist, his face buried in your hair. He quietly inhaled the sweet scent of citrus and flowers that clung to you and left his pillow with the faint scent of your locks. You understood right then that he loved you. That giving up that part of himself he kept so buried and hidden in his heart was his way of showing you that he’d relinquished his heart to you.

Six months into your endeavor and your work was shot up by sicarios going after your boss for making a bad deal with the Narcos. Javier had busted down the door wearing that bulletproof vest and shooting anyone in his path to get to you. He was a man possessed. When his hand intertwined in your own he used his own body to shield you to safety. Not giving a shit about the world watching, he devoured your lips against the side of the van, his hands tangling in your hair and pulling you impossibly closer. “Te amo,” he whispered against your lips.

Murphy’s gentle touch on his shoulder shattered the glass and he pressed his forehead into your own, eyes closed breath hollow. “I love you,” you whispered against his lips and he pulled you tighter to his chest. Almost tight enough to be painful but you wouldn’t have pulled away for the world. How a man who chased down Narcos, carried a gun, could make you feel so safe was a question for another day.

That night he took you home to his place where he reminded you what he struggled so much to say. That he loved you.

His tongue and lips clamped down onto your aching clit as his fingers worked you through your third orgasm. The pleasure was blinding as he sucked and fucked you with his tongue. And when he slid his cock inside you, tears landed gracelessly on your face as he thrust slowly and achingly into you. You reach up and place your hands on his face, neither of you needing to speak;  only needing the gentle touch of the other to ground you. And when he came inside you, groaning as his eyes stayed locked on your own, clenching around him, you knew that this was it. No one in the world would ever compare to Javier Peña.

After that night you didn’t return home to your apartment, except to pack and give your notice. Javi, Steve, and Connie helped you move your things into his apartment and nothing was ever said again.

Javier stared at the flickering candlelight and sighed -  he should have been home hours ago, but paperwork and the never ending bureaucratic bullshit of the embassy had kept him late. Even Steve had gone home early, although he had a child so he had more of a reason - but still. Christmas was the time to be with family and even though it was small, you were his family.

Javier crossed the street and climbed the stairs two at a time, reaching the door in record time. He unlocked the door and quietly stepped inside. Putting his keys in the blue and white ceramic bowl you bought at the market a couple of weeks ago and taking off his shoes next to the small pile. The light flickered from the TV in the living room, sounds of an over the top telenovela wafting through the space. Over the top of the couch sat a red and white novelty Santa hat and Javier smiled until the hat moved. He approached cautiously coming around the couch; breath catching and cock hardening at the site.

You were sprawled out on the couch Santa hat laying precariously on your head. One of his white button-up shirts unbuttoned and underneath peek-a-booed a red lingerie set lined with white fur trim. The crotch missing from the panties, your cunt on full display for him, and glistening in the flickering light from the candles. All clipped carefully into the white garter belt and stockings ending with the sharp black heels with a large gold buckle. The gift you had teased him on the phone with hours ago laid out before him. Waiting to be unwrapped.

He slowly peeled off his leather jacket and unbuttoned his shirt, letting it fall onto the couch, pulling off his socks and tossing them. Javi uncrossed your ankles and gently placed your feet a bit wider giving him room to drop to his knees before you. He licked his lips as he watched your chest rise and fall with each breath. He scooted closer and placed a warm hand on your inner thigh, kissing the skin over the stockings gently. Taking the time to worship your thighs and legs that he adored before moving closer to your heat. Taking one finger he gently ran it through your folds, collecting your slick and putting it in his mouth, sucking it off the moisture, and groaning in delight at the sweetness.

Never taking his eyes off you, he nudged his sharp nose against your clit as he tasted you with his tongue. Flat wide strokes before circling your nub with the tip of his tongue and back again.

*******

You groan in your sleep and move to turn when he grabs hold of your thigh keeping you spread before him. Your eyes snap open and make contact with his own as his lips suck your clit into his mouth while he works one finger into you. Inch by inch until you are quivering beneath him, he adds a second finger and curls them hitting that spongy part inside you that causes you to see stars.

“Javi?” you question as his tongue works you again with wide broad strokes soaking up all your sweetness. His fingers sound obscene with how wet you are as he pumps them into your aching pussy.

He pulls away and grins, “Yes, honey? This is my present, no? It’s Christmas morning after all,” he teases before plundering your cunt with his tongue bringing you closer and closer to the edge. Your eyes roll back into your head when he groans and the vibrations send a shockwave through your body. Your orgasm crashes over you in waves, and Javi works you through it adding a third finger and curling them into you as you pulse and clench around him.

“Javier!” you scream and dig your fingers tugging hard on his short locks. He pulls away and you watch as he sucks all of your juices off his fingers, pulling each one out with a pop.

“Merry Christmas baby,” he grins at you before moving up your body and kissing you gently, tasting the sharp tang of yourself on his tongue. His hands continue running up and down your thighs over the stockings. “Why don’t we move into our bedroom and I can unwrap the rest of my gift?” You can only nod as he takes  your ankles in his hand and flips the clasp on the left heel pulling it off and carelessly throwing it to the floor. He repeats with the other shoe and then he is pulling you up from the couch and tossing you over his shoulder. You squeal in delight and hang on to him, and he chuckles before tossing you onto the bed, your breasts bouncing in the tight fabric. His hands move to unclasp the garter from the stockings and you grab his hand and push it away. Sitting up, you remove his shirt and throw it, taking his jeans in your hands and unbuttoning them, and dragging down the zipper. Your finger runs along his cock as it springs free from the confines of his jeans. Dropping to your knees and looking up at him through your lashes he smiles down at you. “I want to taste you, Javi, is that ok?”

“Shit...cariño that is more than oka-” his voice cracks on the last syllable as you take just the tip past your lips, running your tongue in small circles. You reach for his hands and place them gently on your head and he groans, his head dropping back as he pushes you further down onto his cock. He takes his time and inches himself deeper and deeper into your mouth as his breathing gets heavier. One of your hands comes up to massage his balls and the other grabs his ass tightly as he pants. You hollow your cheeks, tongue running up and down as he hits the back of your throat. Breathing deeply through your nose, you gag a little, tears beginning to pool in the corner of your eyes as he fucks your mouth.

“Fuck, I love your mouth...shit.. I’m close.”

You pull him deeper into your mouth and he whimpers as you press and swirl your tongue around the tip, using your hand to pump him in time with your mouth. His grip on your hair tightens and he pulls you all the way forward, choking you on his cock. His hot, salty cum coats your tongue as he climaxes with a groan.

You swallow every last drop and open your mouth to show him, “Such a good girl,” he praises and lifts you to your feet. He kisses you deeply and you sigh as his hands roam over your skin, warm to the touch. “Sit down on the bed,” he instructs and you do so, “now let’s unwrap the rest of my gift  shall we…”

He moves to his knees and spreads your legs to lay  between them. Hands coming around to unclasp your bra and pull it away. He places gentle kisses on your hard nubs, his mustache scratching lightly against your flesh. “Fuck... this is the greatest gift I’ve ever received cariño.” Taking one nipple in his mouth he bites down gently and pulls out; you gasp at the feeling.

“Javi...please,” you beg, hands running through his hair as he takes his sweet time worshipping your breasts. His other hand kneading the other as he keeps his full attention on your nipples. The way he bites you will for sure have marks in the morning, but Javi loves marking you, claiming you as his own. Especially the visual ones, your neck is  usually covered in love bites, letting all the men at work know who you belonged to.

He switches his attention to the other breast and you drop your head back feeling a familiar rush of slick between your thighs. Javi chuckles against your nub and rubs his face between your breasts, his mustache scratching at the skin before he places a kiss between them. “Look at me, Cariño.” The words like honey on his tongue and you are aching for it.

Slowly, you bring your head back up and watch as he never breaks eye contact, snapping the locks from the garter. He sits back on his ankles and puts your foot against his chest, exposing your dripping pussy for him. He starts from the top and slowly rolls down the white stocking his lips trailing behind pressing wet kisses to your skin as he slides them off and tosses them behind him. He moves to the other leg and repeats the process, taking his time to lightly nip and run his tongue over your flesh.

He digs his fingers into the silky material of the garters and pulls them and your panties off leaving you completely bare before him and at his mercy. “Fuck,” he murmurs staring, “You’re perfect, cariño.”  

Taking your hands, he intertwines your fingers and pulls you down to kiss him. Running his tongue over your bottom lip, asking for entrance. His tongue snakes his way inside your mouth and he licks. You’re drunk off the taste of coffee and cigarettes; it’s distinctly Javi.

“Come with me,” he whispers against your lips and pulls you to stand before him. Taking your hand he leads you to the shower and turns on the water. “I need to shower, and I would really love for you to join me.” You nod and he pulls you in for another deep kiss. He tugs  you under the hot spray of the water, his mouth open as he sucks on your neck, pulling you into his chest. His cock is hard and pushing into your ass. He reaches around you and grabs the body wash squeezing a glob into his hands and working it before he rubs it all over you. Although he is cleaning you, you feel even fucking dirtier as his hands rub between your thighs. You turn in his arms and connect your mouths, biting down on his lower lip as he groans. You take the soap from his hands and run it over his broad shoulders, chest, and lower, taking him in your hands.

His forehead drops to your shoulder and he groans as you pump him a few times. “Turn around,” he groans and pushes your chest into the wall. You shiver at the change in temperature. He gently nudges  your legs apart and you feel him; thick and hot against your leg. “I want to fuck you, cariño,” his voice deep and husky.

“Then do it, mi amor” you whisper, and he wastes no time sliding inside of you, inch by glorious inch. Your forehead lays against the tile, and your hands spread out. His fingers leave imprints on your hips as he pushes all the way in and seats you on his cock.

“Fuck,” he pants, “always so tight for me.” He starts slow dragging almost all the way out before slamming back in, slowly driving you insane as he hits that delicious spot inside of you.

“More, Javi, please,” you beg and he speeds up his thrust. The slap of skin on skin is almost  drowned out by the water still pouring over you. He’s sure to leave bruises as he sets a punishing pace, slamming into you. One hand comes out and he starts rubbing circles on your clit, your hands tightening into fists and biting down hard on your lip to suppress your screams.

“Let go, cariño.  I want to hear you,” you clench tighter around him and he moans cursing and rubbing you in time with each thrust until you are pushing his hand away and screaming against the tile. “That’s it baby, cum on my cock,” he praises in that deep, bedroom voice breaks you and you flood his cock, tightening around him as he cums inside you; his thrusts finally slowing until he’s pulling you back flush against him, cock still nestled inside.

The water turns to ice and you shout as he runs to quickly turn it off, both of you laughing against the wall. He slides out of you and watches as his cum drips out onto the floor, dipping his finger and pushing it back inside. “Come on baby, let’s go to bed,” he grabs two fluffy towels and wraps one around you and the other around his waist, leading you both back to the bed. You dry off as best you can before dropping it and getting back under the covers, pulling Javier closer.

He nuzzles into your neck and inhales deeply before sighing, “I will never get enough of you,” he places a kiss below your ear and envelopes you. “Tomorrow...well today I am going to give you some real Christmas magic, cariño.”

“Oh yeah? What are your plans for me Agent Peña?” you tease.

“I’m going to kiss you under the mistletoe like all those corny Christmas movies you watch, just wait, cariño, this will be a Christmas you won’t soon forget.”

“I love you, Javier,” you whisper into the dark and he returns the sentiment with his arms wrapped tight around you.

The next morning you wake up the same way you did the night before, with Javier’s tongue buried inside your pussy. “Oh my God, Javi!” you scream as his tongue wraps tightly around your clit, two fingers pumping you through your orgasm. You feel yourself shattering around him and gushing on his fingers, his tongue eagerly licking up your juices.

You moan and push at his head, fingers digging into the soft curls of his hair, tugging him off. He smiles at you from between your thighs, his mustache glistening in the low light of the bedroom.

Kissing his way up your chest and nipping at one of your nipples, he reaches for his cigarettes on the nightstand, lighting up and taking a long drag. “You know when you told me you wanted to kiss me under the mistletoe, I thought you might mean in a doorway and my lips,” you tease.

“Well, technically, it was still your lips, just on your pussy not your mouth, and we still did it under the mistletoe.” You laugh as he points up and you see the mistletoe hanging from the ceiling above your bed.

He grins at you and takes another pull, the smoke curling up. “Then … do I also get to kiss you under the mistletoe, Javier?” you reach for his jeans and unbuckling them.

He puts out the cigarette and pushes his jeans off the rest of the way, grinning “Well, tis the season.”

Taglist: @josepedropascal​ @mrschiltoncat​ @mrsparknuts​ @zannemes​​ @ghostwiththemostbitch​​ @oldstuffnewstuff​​ @yespolkadotkitty​​ @heythere-mel​​ @justanotherblonde23​​ @artsymaddie​​ @anetteaneta​​ @a-seeker-of-imagination​​ @aellynera​​

[peterspideyy]

sweater party | day four

12 days of christmas masterlist

summary- going to a christmas party with a newt who just wants to cuddle

warnings- newt being pissed at everyone but you, fluff, modern!au maze runner

————

“newt! y/n! hey!” thomas smiled, running up to the couple who was just about to enjoy their time together, before he interrupted.

“what, tommy?!” newt shouted, causing you to stifle a laugh.

“woah, sorry newt.” thomas replied, as newt sighed placing his head on your shoulder, arms wrapped around your waist tightly, as he enjoyed your warmth, causing you to smile at the action.

you both haven’t seen each other for weeks, due to the hundreds of lessons you’ve both had and of course mock exams. so you could say the lack of time seeing each other, has really took a toll on you both.

you both just missed each other to much.

and with your school breaking up for christmas break, you both finally had a free hour. so, of course newt immediately grabbed at the chance to meet up with you in the school grounds, and just do absolutely nothing which you both loved doing.

so, you could say newt was pissed at tommy for interrupting your precious time.

“what’s up, thomas?” you questioned, as the blonde haired boy whined on your shoulder, starting to rub his thumb softly on your waist.

“oh, nothing.”

newt lifted his head up at this, “and you think its bloody okay to interrupt mine and y/n’s time-“

“i was just wondering,” thomas inturrupted, starring at newt as a warning, “if you’re still coming to my christmas party tonight?”

you forgot about that.

and by the look on newt’s face he did too.

“err,” newt started glancing at you, “i think we’re just going to stay in tonight.”

thomas’ eyes went wide, “why? you promised you would come!”

“oh, yeah we did.” you mumbled, looking at newt who had pleading eyes, shaking his head slightly.

“please come guys, i don’t think i’ll be able to handle drunk minho on my own.” he argued, causing newt to nod his head, agreeing with him.

drunk minho was difficult to control, let’s say.

“please. please. please. please-“

“if you say please one more time tommy, i’m going to bloody knock-“

“and on that note,” you cut off your boyfriend, before this innocent conversation turned aggressive, smiling at thomas, “we’ll be there.”

“thank you.” thomas beamed, before running away, looking for brenda to ask if she was coming.

as thomas was out of view, newt turned to face you, pouting.

“but, i wanted to cuddle with you, tonight.” he complained.

“it’s only one night, love, and then we have the rest of the holidays to spend time together.” you cooed, leaning in to kiss his nose, causing him to pout even more.

“but-“

“no buts, darling. we are bloody going.”

newt groaned in annoyance.

but, he still kissed your cheek nevertheless.

————

“why did i agree to come.”

“because it’ll be fun to spend time with our friends.” you replied, brushing your hair quickly, before turning to face your pouting boyfriend.

“but, why do i have to wear this?!”

newt gestured to his santa christmas sweater that he paired with black jeans and a pair of vans, with his blonde hair pushed messily to the side.

he looked absolutely adorable.

“i hate it.” he wined.

“it’s a christmas sweater party for a reason, newtie.” you laughed, turning to look at yourself in the mirror. you were wearing a rudolph sweater, with black jeans as well. you caught newt’s eyes, who was looking back at you in awe.

“you’re so bloody cute, love.” he mumbled, causing you to blush.

“if you keep on complimenting me, i’ll regret agreeing to go to this party.” you laughed, turning to face him properly. he smirked, wrapping his arms around you, and placing a quick peck of your lips.

“as much as i would love to stay here and do this all night, we should be going.” newt whispered against your lips, before pulling away, intertwining his hands with yours, and leaving the house to head to thomas’.

————

“if it isn’t the best couple in town!” thomas greeted after opening the door, making you and newt to chuckle slightly.

“come in! come in!” he ushered, moving to the side, to let you both in.

“love the jumper newt.” thomas winked, causing newt to put the middle finger up at him.

“blame them for forcing me to wear one!” he argued back.

you gasped, “hey! don’t blame me!”

newt turned to face you, smirking at you, placing a quick kiss on your forehead, while thomas watched the couple with a slight smile.

“drinks are in the back room, and yeah have fun!” he smiled, leaving you both to look at the house.

you don’t think you have seen that much christmas decorations in a house before.

literally, top to bottom there was something christmassy.

“i think tommy likes christmas.” newt mumbled into your ear, causing you to hum in agreement. “want a drink?”

you turned to face your boyfriend, nodding gratefully, making him squeeze your hand (still in his) reassuringly, causing you to smile.

he knew you hated when he left you. even for a minute.

“i’ll be back, love.” he spoke, barely even audible over the loud music blaring into the room, with people singing and laughing loudly. you looked around, not even noticing newt looking at you, before you caught eyes of teresa and brenda.

“i’ll be over there.” you pointed to the corner, causing newt to nod, placing a kiss on your forehead before leaving your side. you watched him leave, immediately being hugged by gally and alby, before you made your way to the girls.

“hey!” you greeted, engulfing them both in a tight hug.

“hi, y/n! cute sweater.” brenda smiled, while teresa nodded in agreement, sipping her drink.

“got any plans for christmas?” teresa asked.

you smiled, “probably spending time with newt.”

“ohh, is he treating you well?” brenda questioned.

you blushed, looking down, “yeah. super well.”

“he’s good for you, y/n.” teresa commented, making brenda hum in agreement.

you were about to reply, but saw teresa and brenda, smiling mischievously at something just past you. you furrowed your brows, about to ask what’s happened, but a pair of hands covered your eyes, causing you to gasp, and turn around, ready to see who your attacker was.

but, the laughter of your boyfriend filled the air around you, causing you to instantly relax.

“did i scare you then, darling?” he asked, giggling, lowering his hands to cup your face.

“yeah, you did.” you chuckled, heart still racing with butterflies from the way newt’s eyes lingered on your lips.

“where’s our drinks?” you asked, gesturing to newt’s empty hands.

“oh, minho’s got them.” he paused looking over the sea of heads, before freezing, “he’s coming over-“

“y/n!”

“now.” newt laughed, and minho soon came into sight, walking in zig-zags with your drinks in his hand, laughing loudly.

yeah, he was drunk.

“how have you been?!” he slurred, handing newt your drinks, before wrapping his arms around you tightly, causing all the air in your lungs to be knocked out of you.

“woah, let y/n breath, yeah?” newt warned minho, insantly becoming protective over you.

“it’s fine,” you gasped, as minho pulled away, “i think he just missed me.”

minho laughed loudly, “they’re so funny.”

you glanced at newt, confusingly, causing him to shrug slightly.

“did you miss us?” teresa teasingly asked, on behalf of brenda.

minho froze, turning to face them, with a blank expression.

“no.”

you and newt burst out laughing, while the girls just stood, eyes wide.

“kidding!” minho shouted, nudging them both, before wrapping his arms around you and newt, leading you away.

“maybe.” he mumbled, while you and your boyfriend cried with laughter.

————

you and newt were at home now. and you could say you were both very very very drunk. thanks to minho.

“take a shot newt, if you love y/n!” minho shouted, and before he could finish newt gulped down the glass of vodka, pulling a face at the strong taste.

“y/n, take a shot if you love newt’s accent!”

“are you trying to get us smashed?” you giggled, throwing the shot back, wincing at the taste.

“nooo, i would never do that.” he replied, words slurred together, before taking another shot.

“what’s that one for?” newt questioned.

“because i love myself.”

you fell on your bed, with newt falling down beside you, head in the pillow as he groaned loudly.

“if i get a massive hangover in the morning, i’m going to kill minho.”

you laughed, tears falling down at the comment, causing newt to turn to face, you pouting for the hundredth time today.

“i’m being serious.” he wined, as you carried on laughing.

“that’s what’s so funny about it!” you replied, between laughs.

newt couldn’t stay serious at you for long, and soon smiled at the most precious view of you laughing. he was so smitten for you.

“i love you.” he blurted out, causing your laughs to freeze.

you turned to face newt, a smile forming on your face, as you placed your hands on his cheek, leaning in to place a quick kiss on his lips, before leaning back.

“i love you too.”

“good,” he beamed, bringing his hand up to stroke your cheek softly, “now kiss me properly.”

you stuck your tongue out teasingly, before closing the gap between you, as you both melted into each other.

and as the morning came round, and your hangover was stronger than ever before, you still found yourself and newt saying sweet nothings to each other.

————

a/n- sorry for the late update! i’ll be posting day 5 and 6, tommorow- ive just been super busy with work. also, i wanted to write so much for this, but i was just rushing to get this up, sorry :/

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christmas masterlist-

@parkersbliss @liberty-barnes @lilacsnid @potentialhappiness @eternal-maniac

[walker-extended-universe]

Season 2 Episode 6

A midseason finale with a pile of angst tall enough to put a “Douglas Fir” to shame.

This one took me a while to process and honestly I’m still not completely over it so forgive me if this review is a bit messy.

In a complete break in pattern to how I usually do things, I’m gonna talk about the lighthearted stuff first and work my way up the Angst Ladder.

So August was signed up to play piano at the school holiday party. Unfortunately for him, the fall from the Davidson’s barn messed up his shoulder badly enough that he couldn’t even move it enough to play the piano. Colton sees his struggle and offers to help him out in exchange for some piano lessons. August agrees and they end up performing on stage at the end of the party, earning praise from the whole crowd (especially Denise and Faye). I like that the kids have worked through their initial issues and I hope we see them become better friends in the future.

August did have to come clean to Cordell about his shoulder injury and how he got it because of how much it was hindering him. Thankfully, Cordell went easy on him. I do love the idea that August is incapable of lying to his dad because he’s easy to read though.

Also the Bah-Humbug Bonham story was cute. I loved him showing up as Santa at the end. A sweet way to end a very rocky episode.

Micki and Trey are next up on the list. Their plotline started off pretty well and I was irritated at the promo for misleading us after this first scene. Micki inisted on talking about Garrison, even after Trey tried to put it off.  She even ignored a call from Cordell, something that she would normally gladly use as a diversion. She toldTrey the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth about Garrison. It’s easy to see how much this had been weighing on her, even before Trey closed the door on her. She even admits that she doesn’t know who she is anymore after eveything she’s been through lately. Trey was obviously sympathetic towards her emotions and it seemed like they had everything worked out.

But then, at the holiday party, Micki learns about what Trey was doing while she was undercover. It starts off innocently enough with the teachers gushing about how great and helpful he was. Then he confessed to her that the reason he signed up to do all those things was to distract himself from her being gone and what that might mean for their relationship. She asked him to elaborate and pushed when he was reluctant. So he told her that he found the timing of her urgent undercover mission to be awfully convenient, as things were just starting to get real and permanent between them. She’s insulted by this claim at first and reminds him that there’s a chaing of command that she has to follow. He counters and gets her to admit her leaving was her own decision, not an order. This causes her to leave the table and they don’t reunite until much later, when they finally break up. It wasn’t something either of them wanted to do but they could both admit that they should. Micki needed to go back home and figure out who she was and what she really wanted and she couldn’t keep jerking Trey around while she did that.

I honestly teared up a bit during the scene in Ranger HQ where she prepared to leave. We see her leaving a note for Cordell on his desk and her gun and badge on her own. James saw her and all but begged her to stay. Cordell wasn’t far behind and he blamed her leaving on him not being a good enough partner. Ultimately though, her decision was made and a tearful goodbye was shared between the trio. 

Thank you, Lindsey Morgan, for bringing Micki Ramirez to life. You were a blessing on my screen and I hope to see you again one day.

At long last, we’ve reached the main plot of the episode.

Early on this fine day, three men in reindeer masks with guns and a blowtorch corndered a forensics van holdign evidence against Serranos and steal it from the driver. Denise went to the Walker ranch after hearing abotu this and enlisted Cordell and Liam to locate the van, claiming that if she went down herself no one would talk to her. They agree and head out witht he case file.

Coming off of the last episode, both brothers claim to be 100% cool with each other but it became clear that it would take more than a Brother Parallel to fix eveything between them. Things were perfectly fine until Dan Miller’s name was tossed in the ring as a suspect. Their attitudes toward the case shift dramatically and in very opposite directions, with Liam going on the offensive and Cordell trying to rein him in. Once again, we had Liam making accussations and Cordell dismissing them. It isn’t until Liam opened up about the trauma he was still dealing with after nearly dying to Clint’s bullet that Cordell was willing to listen. Cordell agreed to trust Liam’s instincts but insisted that Liam needed to trust him as well. 

In the end, Dan was proved innocent after a helpful tip from Gale about some meth heads buying a blowtorch. While the case was solved in the episode, there are still a lot of questions in the air about Dan Millier and what exactly he was doing with all that money in plastic bags and, more importantly, why he was hiding it from Denise. (I am gonna call out the promo for being misleading her about the context of Codell’s comment on being through with the peacemaker gig though. Not cool.)

Unfortunately, the brother’s issues did not end there as on the way home, they come across Dan and Gale surrounded by police cars. Cordell wondered what was going on as Dan was cleared as a suspect hours before hand and he hadn’t called anyone out. Liam insisted they keep driving and that it probably wasn’t important, which only served to make Cordell suspicious. After some prodding, Liam admitted to Cordell that earlier that day, he secretly called in a false warrant on Dan’s truck. Cordell got angry with him and left the truck to sort out the issue, leaving Liam alone with his guilt. Later, Liam went to Denise and told her what happened. We didn’t get to see the end result of this confession but it most certainly won’t be good.

This was a whirlwind of an episode for me, as one would expect from a mid-season finale. Walker will be back on January 13th and I am anxious to see what happens next. What will become of Liam’s career after his screw up here? What about his relationship with Cordell? How will this affect their relationship with the Davidsons and will that spill over to the kids? How will Trey deal with the breakup? And, most importantly, will we find out what really happened during the barn fire?

Until then, my friends.

[inloveoknutzy]

Blue Eyes

this was my secret santa gift to subito-fulget. thank you @jacklighting for organising the secret santa in the discord chat!! it was so much fun to do

this is some coops pining and fluff - credit as always for coops goes to @lumosinlove 🥰 happy holidays

this can also be found on my ao3 along with my other longer fics <3

Perfect, absolutely perfect. Remus thought as the team all stood on the side of a dark road, the bus having just broken down. They were making good time, on their way to the fourth game of the season, but they just had to choose the hotel furthest away from the airport. Fortunately, they were all dressed for warmth but that didn’t stop a cold chill running down Remus’ spine as he shuffled on the spot, arms wrapped around himself. They were waiting on a replacement bus, van, anything to get them anywhere, but given the forecasted snowstorm, they weren’t having much luck.

Logan stood next to Dumo, their heads knocked together as they talked quietly, while Finn was in a similar state to Remus, looking around as he rubbed his arms, sucking in a breath. “We should all huddle for warmth,” Finn suggested, and Leo was the first to nod quickly, shuffling over and leaning into Finn.

Others joined the group, while Remus glanced over at Sirius who stood alone, looking down. Remus would have given anything to know what he was thinking right then, eyes casted downward, black curls sticking out of the cap he was wearing (that really should’ve been a beanie), wet from where the snow had formed to water. He watched as a puff of air blew out of his mouth, visible from how cold it was; Remus found himself struck with an unexplainable desire to be in that breath’s path. Being close enough to feel the warmth radiating from him, enveloping and dizzying him. Maybe he would crack a joke and Sirius would laugh, eyes bright and grin wide. Maybe then he’d shake his head fondly and lean in close enough for their lips to touch-

“Earth to Loops,” Coach called, bringing him out of his thoughts. He hummed in acknowledgement as Coach waved his phone, “rescue bus will be here any minute.”

Remus nodded, then tried rubbing his hands together in hopes of warming them up, but it was to no avail. He was bloody freezing. He walked over and playfully shouldered Sirius, who seemed lost in his head. “You alright?”

It was when Sirius turned to face him that Remus realised how close they were standing, their faces even closer. Sirius looked into his eyes and Remus was captivated, unable to look anywhere else. He asked again, slower this time, “you okay, Cap?”

“Hm? Oh- yeah…” Sirius said quietly, turning to look back down at the ground. It felt like that one word didn’t even scratch the surface of the vastness of Sirius’ thoughts, but Remus didn’t dare press further. If only.

Remus nodded and looked ahead, forlornly at the poor broken down bus, most likely going to be many feet under snow by the morning. Being stood next to Sirius, starting the world’s most awkward and stilted conversation in the history of conversations, Remus was very much envious of the bus. Many feet under snow seemed like a better alternative to the silence that stretched between the two, thicker than the fluffy whiteness beneath them.

“And you?” Remus blinked, turning again to catch Sirius’ blue eyes once more. “How are you?” Sirius asked.

“Blue.”

Oh god.

“Blue?” Sirius pressed his lips together, trying not to laugh. Remus was thankful for the excuse of the cold weather for his rosy cheeks, though something told him Sirius was already aware of the things he did to him.

“Um- yeah. No- I just meant-uh-” Remus stumbled over his words, frustrated that Sirius always flustered him. If he wasn’t rendered speechless by his lack of a filter, then he certainly was after the corners of Sirius’ mouth turned up into a smile, eyes crinkling slightly. Remus felt compelled to poke the little dimples in his cheeks but chose instead to keep his hands in his pockets.

“You just meant…” Sirius prompted, smile growing wider. Remus couldn’t find any words, entranced by the sweet expression on the man’s face. Sirius huffed a laugh, and after a moment of silence, said very gently, “you know, I quite like your eyes too.”

Oh. Oh my. Remus had no idea what to say to that, taken aback completely. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but was interrupted by the loud beep beep of a bus as it pulled into the road beside them, everyone cheering.

“I-um. I guess I’ll see you later then?” Sirius asked as they walked over to the bus. He didn’t break eye contact with Remus, who in turn was struggling to maintain Sirius’ unwavering gaze.

Remus nodded, “yeah I’ll see you ar-ah!” He slipped, legs swinging out in front of him. He screwed his eyes shut, bracing for impact, but it never came. No, instead, he fell into the very strong arms of one Sirius Black, who looked down at him seemingly very amused about the whole situation.

Remus looked up at him, eyes wide. He racked his brain, begged it to come up with some kind of response to the most embarrassing predicament he could find himself in. But naturally, all he could think of to say was,

“Oh.”

Great. So smart. Just a brilliant response.

Remus would have been more embarrassed about his reply, or lack thereof, had it not been for the way Sirius’ face lit up, hand instinctively gripping a little tighter on his arm.

“Have a nice trip?” he quipped, and Remus rolled his eyes as he was brought back up on his feet.

“Thanks,” he said, and Sirius just nodded, still smiling. He made his way to the open door of the bus, where everyone else was already piled in. There were two rows of seats, facing each other. Everyone had taken up the rest of the seats, bar for two.

“After you.” Remus offered, and Sirius grinned, nodding his thanks. Though, he paused when he climbed in, turning back to face Remus. He held out his hand for Remus to take, then pulled him up into the bus.

Remus, still thrown off balance from the trip just moments ago, tumbled into the seat beside Sirius, one leg on top of his lap. He yelped and removed his leg, eyes determinedly looking down when Dumo raised an eyebrow at the pair of them.

“I’d settle in, it’s gonna be a long ride.” The driver called from the front seat, much to the chagrin of Remus. He wasn’t sure how he was going to survive this journey.

Pretty much everyone else on the bus seemed to be varying degrees of tired. The one commonality lay that they were all on the verge of, if not already, falling asleep.

Remus bounced his legs up and down, trying his best to keep warm, but next to him, Sirius sighed and put a hand on Remus’ knee, with a quiet mumble of, “stop that.”

“Shit sorry.” Remus apologised, but when Sirius turned to look at him, he didn’t seem annoyed. In fact he seemed more solemn. Contemplative. He felt exposed, under Sirius’ gaze, like he just ripped Remus’ chest apart and pulled out his beating heart. It’s his, anyway.

Neither of them looked away from each other, in fear of losing whatever moment this was. Pulling them. Reeling in, drawn closer and closer and closer- a bump in the road broke whatever silent conversation they were having, leaving both parties to look away.

Sirius let his head fall back against the wall behind them, closing his eyes. Remus wished he could relax right now but it was proving to be very difficult given Sirius’ hand was still resting on his knee. The ever-so-casual touch bleeding into his skin. He wanted to be surrounded by that feeling, be surrounded by Sirius. Not suffocating or claustrophobic, just there. Present. It felt like so much of Remus’ life was spent clinging so desperately onto things he knew he needed to let go of.

He didn’t want to let go of this.

Something told Remus he wouldn’t have to.

If only he could express how he felt. All of the words were on the tip of his tongue, on his lips, and in his head, stood at the edge of a cliff waiting for Sirius to join him. The wind was cold and biting on his skin, looking down at the never-ending blue beneath this cliff. Crashing waves and dark rocks. Just jump. Do it. It’s scary but he wouldn’t want to do it with anyone else. And that thought is scary in and of itself.

Just jump.

Into the blue.

Sirius was asleep now. Remus was convinced he was the only one awake on the bus. He was about to pull out his phone when he felt a warmth on his shoulder, something tickling at his neck. He frowned and craned his head, gasping a little when he saw a head of black hair resting on his shoulder.

He didn’t move a muscle, didn’t want this moment to end. But he was conscious that Sirius’ neck was going to kill after this. And technically, it was his responsibility as the team’s PT to eliminate any unnecessary pain or cramps. He turned very carefully, slowly, sliding a hand underneath Sirius’ head, cradling it almost. He really should have thought this through, though, because he now had no clue what he was supposed to do, Sirius’ head resting in his hands.

He did what any sane person would do in his situation, and lowered his head all the way into his lap, Sirius, half-asleep, bringing his legs up underneath him and shifting around, turning his body to curl up slightly, cheek now resting on Remus’ thigh.

This certainly was going to be a long ride.

Remus thought he might as well try and get some sleep.

*****

“We’re here, boys.” Remus heard, and blinked his eyes open, looking around at everyone in a similar state to him, groggily rubbing their faces and standing up. He looked down at Sirius who was still asleep on his lap. Unsure how to go about waking him up, Remus’ hands hovered over his face.

He gently brushed the hair away to reveal Sirius’ face, so calm and peaceful asleep. He felt bad interrupting it, but everyone else was off the bus now.

“Sirius.”

“Sirius.”

He sighed, and placed a hand on his shoulder, shaking slightly. “Sirius,” he said louder, and was greeted with only a hum.

He shook him more, and Sirius jumped up suddenly, hair flat on one side, cap half fallen off his head. His eyes met Remus’.

“You fell-”

“Sorry I-”

They both laughed, and Sirius gestured for him to continue, “I-uh. You fell asleep. I didn’t want you to get a cramp in your neck.”

“Oh!” Sirius stood up, holding his hand out for Remus to take again, “thanks.”

“No problem.” Remus nodded, and they both made their way to the entrance of the little motel. He felt envious of Sirius, being able to brush off something like falling asleep on someone like he did. Maybe it just didn’t mean that much to him.

Remus took notice of the small building, and it was evident they weren’t going to make their way to their originally booked hotel. He just hoped this would do.

Coach was talking to the receptionist, while Remus walked to stand beside Dumo, who shot him a knowing look. “What?” he asked.

“Nothing,” he hummed, but his expression still didn’t let up.

“What?” Remus asked again, bordering on a whine.

“You and the Captain are getting very close, non?”

Remus blushed, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“You tell me.”

He was about to reply, when he was interrupted by a hand on his arm. He turned and saw Sirius, smiling sheepishly.

“Hi-”

“Hey.”

“So um, there’s not many rooms left… everyone’s doubling up or in some cases tripling up. I said I’d bunk with you if that’s cool?”

Remus’ mouth went dry. Why did he pick him? Of all the people? He could only nod, and Sirius smiled brightly back at him, “great! We’re in room 54.”

“O-okay.”

Dumo snorted beside him, and Remus whacked his arm. “I’m gonna head up to the room now…” Sirius said, and Remus nodded again.

“Sure I’ll join you,” he gave Dumo a warning look as he grabbed his bags, walking down the hall with Sirius.

“There’s only one key.” Sirius explained, “I- you can have it if you want.”

“Oh that’s fine you can keep hold of it.”

Sirius huffed a laugh, looking down. Remus wanted to hear that laugh on a loop. It felt like recently Sirius had been so tense and stressed. It was refreshing seeing him so happy. “No I- I don’t trust myself.”

The statement hung between the two of them. As if he were standing in the middle of a tightrope, unable to decide whether he should turn around and head back or carry on walking forward, balancing. It felt like Sirius just said everything and nothing at all. The simultaneous weight of insinuation and emptiness of such a throwaway comment leaving Remus unsure of where he stood with Sirius. Surely friends didn’t speak like this?

“Well I’ll take it,” he said gently, taking the key from Sirius, the electricity of their hands brushing jolting through his arm, warming him in the otherwise freezing motel.

He unlocked the door and they both walked through, stopping at the same time in front of the one bed that took up the entirety of the room.

“What kind of shitty fanfiction is this?” Sirius mumbled, sighing as he dropped his bags on the bed.

“And what would you know about fanfiction?” Remus asked, quirking an eyebrow as Sirius grinned,

“Wouldn’t you love to know.”

Remus had no idea how to respond to that. So, he instead chose to join Sirius in dropping his bags.

“I can sleep on the floor.” Sirius offered, and Remus could only laugh as he looked around at the room, the only bit of floor being what they were standing on, just enough for the door to swing open.

“What floor?”

Sirius laughed too, “good point.”

Their laughter died down, and they were once again left in just each other’s company. Both avoiding the elephant, or rather, bed, in the room. “So…”

“So…” Sirius trailed off, “I can run back down and see if there’s any other rooms,” he suggested.

“Didn’t you say all the rooms were gone?”

“Yeah…”

Silence. Again.

“It’s not so bad. The bed could be smaller.” Remus reasoned, shrugging. “I-I’m fine with it if you are. As long as you don’t snore,” he attempted to make light of the situation.

“I don’t snore!”

“Guess we’ll see then.” Remus grinned, opening the zip on his bag.

*****

Sirius didn’t snore. But he also didn’t seem to fall asleep very quickly. Remus kept his eyes trained on the ceiling; hoping, praying that maybe Sirius would say something, anything. Sirius most likely was not thinking the same things. He kept huffing and sighing, shifting around from one side to another on the small bed.

“Can’t sleep?” Remus broke the silence, turning to face Sirius. He looked adorable, the light from the window (with no curtains) catching his eyes, though Remus thought Sirius didn’t need light for his eyes to sparkle. He was always the one to bring the light into every situation. Bring the light into his life. Light that he didn’t know he needed, but now he got a glimpse, never wanted to go without.

“I think the nap on the bus probably wasn’t the best idea.” Sirius smiled a little, facing Remus now. His cheek was squished up against the pillow, black curls covering his forehead. Remus felt compelled to reach forward and brush them away, so he could get lost in the blue of his eyes once more, but instead kept his hands by his sides.

“Probably not.” Remus said quietly, now conscious of his breathing as their faces were yet again in very close proximity. He focused all of his thoughts onto keeping his blush at bay, but there was no use.

“You want to know what I do to get myself to sleep?” Sirius asked, and at the other’s nod continued, “well, I— hey,” he said gently when Remus looked down.

Suddenly, his head was being tilted back up, a hand on his cheek. At Remus’ questioning look, Sirius very simply said, “I can’t see your face when you do that.”

“Oh.” Remus so eloquently responded, mind reeling at Sirius’ hand on his cheek, the touch both overwhelming yet not enough. He leaned into it, closing his eyes.

“Hey!” Sirius said again, smiling when Remus opened his eyes. “Can’t see your eyes when you do that, either.”

Remus must have been dreaming. That was the only logical explanation he could think of for what was happening. He watched as Sirius’ smile grew wider. “Why do you always look so surprised, Rem?”

His eyes widened slightly at the nickname. If his cheeks weren’t bright red already they certainly were after that. “I- I don’t know. Nervous I guess.”

“About what?” Sirius asked, and Remus’ face dropped a little. Was Sirius not aware of the things he did to him? Surely? He took a leap, jumped off the edge of the cliff, hoping to be engulfed in the deep sea of blue. Hoping to finally breathe.

“Do you not know how you make me feel?” Remus asked, trying hard to swallow down his heart that now felt like it had leapt up into his throat.

Sirius exhaled shakily, “no,” he whispered, hand still on his cheek. Remus could feel Sirius trembling. Or maybe that was just him. At this point he couldn’t tell. All he kept thinking of was Sirius, Sirius, Sirius, blue eyes, Sirius...

“Well.” Remus gulped, eyes never leaving Sirius’. He felt like he could write essays upon essays, sonnets upon sonnets, on Sirius’ deep blue eyes. He couldn’t stop thinking about them. Wondering. Does Sirius look at him with the same affection he did?

“Do you want to know what helps me get to sleep?” Remus asked.

Sirius nodded, and Remus took a breath. Now wasn’t the time to back down. Emboldened by the hand that was still on his cheek, Remus continued, “well I- I like to think of scenarios. Little scenes that I make up in my head- of um- of things I wish would happen.”

“I thought I was the one who liked fanfiction?”

“So you admit it!” Remus smiled, nervous energy dissipating, “you do read fanfiction.”

Sirius laughed, “you’re avoiding the subject,” he said, cheeks tinged a light pink. Remus felt reassured he wasn’t the only one.

“Fine,” Remus continued, “the, um, the difference between the- uh- the fanfiction thing and me is that… I picture most of mine happening in real life—”

Sirius’ thumb softly stroking Remus’ cheekbone threw him off his rhythm. Sirius prompted him, “and…?”

“And- uh- most of them are… with you.”

Sirius went silent, and Remus shut his eyes, in fear that he had misread the situation entirely.

After what felt like hours, but was probably only a minute at most passed, Remus opened his eyes to find Sirius staring right back at him, lips forming the shape of an ‘O’. He blinked, almost deciding something in his head, his right hand then being brought up to meet the left, now cupping both of Remus’ cheeks.

“Can I kiss you?” Sirius asked, and Remus nodded quickly, leaning forward to meet his lips.

The daydreams didn’t hold a candle to the incredible feeling of Sirius kissing him. Face cradled in his hands, lips brushing against his, Remus finally jumped off the cliff. Finally crashed into the deep blue water, feeling like he just took a breath for the first time, surrounded by Sirius. He couldn’t think of anything else, his hands lifted to bury in his thick black hair, so fluffy and soft underneath his fingertips. One moment it felt like everything was in slow motion, then the next, it felt like someone had pressed fast forward. It was all too much and not enough at the same time.

Sirius pulled away first, breathing quickly. He looked into Remus’ eyes, lips turning up into a shy smile, one he had never seen before. He felt special. Only he got the privilege to see this side of Sirius.

“How did that live up to your fanfictions?” Sirius asked, breathless.

Remus laughed loudly, unexpectedly, covering his face with his hands. “I said they weren’t fanfictions.”

“Ohh sorry. What do you call it, headcanons?”

“Please shut up.” Remus couldn’t stop laughing.

“Gladly,” Sirius grinned, leaning back in to kiss him again.

Remus wasn’t sure where this was going, but for once in his life, he wasn’t afraid of that. He didn't need to worry about what else was going to happen, because he now had Sirius by his side. And as long as he had Sirius with him, he felt like he could do anything.

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

The Ordeal

Pairing: Benny ‘Borracho’ Magalon x Reader Rating: Explicit - 18+ Only Warnings: Cursing; canon-typical violence; sexual content (non-explicit) Notes: Not beta-read. I was gonna make this a short chapter and then I didn’t! Whoops!

Brought about by @monicabennerman-blog asking how Techie got grazed by a bullet during The Worry chapter of The Pool

Summary: You’re not in the field often - you haven’t been in a position to do anything in-person since the Sutton case.

Eight charges of interstate transportation of stolen property, nine charges of theft from an interstate shipment, fifteen charges of theft of a major artwork. You stare down at Max Auerswald’s file in shock and shake your head. “How the fuck is this guy not in jail?” You ask. Z whistles to catch your attention, waves his hand in a cutting motion across his neck to signal you not to ask that again. You open your mouth to ask why, but Nick is storming into the room, face set and stony, and you shut right up and lean back in your seat and give Z a small nod of thanks. He gives you an answering nod and a thumbs up.

You turn your attention to the board as Nick sets it up. The last time the team nailed Auerswald was five years ago. The bust had accounted for the nine charges of theft from an interstate shipment and twelve of the fifteen charges of theft of a major art work. “He hit up The Getty and the Kohn with a crew of four, incapacitated the guards, knocked out the security system,” Nick tells you as the group gathers their notes. “Inside job?” “Good girl,” Nick confirms it with that, and you see Borracho bristle. You shoot him a look before turning back to where Nick is still pinning up pictures. The pictures of the crew that worked the job are all up, along with pictures of the artwork that the guys managed to recover. But there are only eleven pictures there. “The only piece we weren’t able to recover was Van Gogh’s Irises,” Nick’s arms are folded across his chest now, and he’s staring Auerswald’s picture down.

“It’s valued at $54 million,” Henderson tells you, “He swore up and down he didn’t have it, didn’t know where it was, but we got a tip from the FBI that it’s resurfaced. We worked the case last time, so it got kicked to us.” “Resurfaced where?” You ask. “Santa Ana,” Connors tells you, and you cringe, unable to help it. That’s outside of your jurisdiction. “Plan?” --

Borracho’s hated this from the beginning, you know that. You’ve been able to see it in the way he’s hovered around your desk when you’re listening to wire taps, when you’re pulling up rap sheets for the guys on the fly and cross-referencing known associates when someone asks. You’re not in the field often - you haven’t been in a position to do anything in-person since the Sutton case. But this Auerswald seems to be Nick’s White Whale. So when you’re working late one night and Nick manages to get the guy on the phone over VOIP, and you take the call because the guy’ll recognize Nick’s voice, Borracho’s not happy about it. When you help Nick set a rendezvous with Auerswald at a small gallery in the LA area, Borracho’s even less happy about it. The night before it’s set to go down, you lay in bed beside him. You don’t push him to talk, you just trace your finger over his chest in aimless patterns. And then something occurs to you and you ask, “Would you be this worried if this was going down my first year with the team?” “Yes.” His answer is flat and fast, and you push yourself up to peer down at him in the dark, trying to get a better read on what you’re sure are his frustrated features. You don’t want to turn the lamp on - it’s late, the two of you do need your sleep, but-- but, well, now your mind is going about four places at once. “Really?” Borracho sighs, his hand skating up your back, gentle and unhurried. “I didn’t even like bringing you with me to plant the bugs at Sutton’s.” You frown-- hell, you pout. “You told me I did a good job,” You argue, and you can’t help the petulance it leaves you with. “Sweetness,” Borracho sighs again, sounding very, very tired all of the sudden, “It’s not that I don’t think you’re capable, just… I know you’re safe when you’re in the office. There are too many variables when we’re out there, you know?” You do know. You worry about Borracho every day - you’ll never forget the day he was shot, or how it tore you up after. You don’t wish that on anyone, especially not on him. You’re certain he's still frowning; his hand is warm and rough on your back, and you can feel the smoothness of his wedding ring against your skin. Rather than tell him that things are going to be fine or that he has nothing to worry about, you push yourself up a bit more, straddling his hips. His hands fall to your thighs, yours, to his chest. You hear his huffed little laugh, and you grin. Got him. “You know what tomorrow is?” He asks. You do know, but you decide to play dumb for a moment, and hum thoughtfully before answering, “Sunday?” He laughs louder this time. “Smartass,” He mumbles. “Mm, but I got a cute ass, remember?” You tease, wiggling it against him before you lean down and kiss him. It’s dark, so you miss his lips a little at first, landing just to the left. But then he turns his head, and his hand curls around the back of your neck and corrects the angle, and you sigh, settling against his chest. The two of you should go to sleep, you really should, but you both need this. After you’ve tired one another out, after Borracho’s cleaned the two of you up, he pulls you into his side and nuzzles into your hair, mumbles, “Maybe we made a little Magalon.” And that hasn’t been on your mind in a while, but now it’s drifting out of where it’s made a home in the back of your mind. You feel your hand curl in on itself, pangs of anxiety coursing through you. You hum in answer and turn your head, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “That’d be a hell of an anniversary gift, huh,” You tease instead. 

You can be worried about that later. -- Borracho’s got to go in before you have, but instead of your customary ‘good morning’ post-it, you’re kissed awake. You come up from sleep slowly, drawn out by the feeling of his lips drifting over your neck, his facial hair tenderly passing over the same areas - not enough to mark, but enough to wake you. You let out a sleepy little grumble, and Borracho lifts his head. He nudges his nose against yours before he pecks your lips gently. You push the covers aside, ignoring the cool of the room in favor of the heat of his body, and loop your arms around his shoulders to dry and draw him back down with you. “Mm-- Sweetness,” There’s a teasing and a warning to his tone. You heed neither of them as you try to slip a hand under his shirt. He laughs, drawing away, leaving you blinking sleepily up at him. “Didn’t want to go in before…” He trails off, uncertain, but you know what he meant: before he said goodbye - but the two of you don’t like that word. You’ll see him at the office before the rendezvous with Auerswald, but you’ll be with the guys. This is the last moment of real quiet the two of you will have for a long time. You reach out, taking hold of his hand and giving it a soft squeeze. “I love you, Benny,” You murmur sleepily. He smiles and ducks his head down, kissing you again. “Love you, too, Mrs. Magalon,” He murmurs, and you grin, “Happy anniversary.” 

-- You drive to the rendezvous point alone. Borracho and Connors are in a car parked down the block; Nick, Z, and Henderson are in a surveillance van parked behind the small gallery that you’re meeting Auerswald in. 

The man is perfectly cordial. His face has been burned into your mind for the past few weeks: a stout gentleman, a round face - beedy, dark eyes and a snub nose. He’s slow as he takes you through the gallery; you can hear Nick getting impatient in your earpiece, and it’s hard not to get anxious yourself when you know your boss is ready to pop. But then you’re led into a small back room. There are no windows - only one door in or out. You look around, feeling claustrophobic for the first time in your life. “Awfully cramped conditions,” You comment as Auerswald flicks a light on. “You must understand,” he tells you, “That these matters are best dealt with in close quarters...Intimate settings…” And you’ve been trying to ignore the way that the man has been leering at you, but he’s been making it difficult. Instead, you focus on the painting. “It’s quite beautiful…” You say, “If it’s real.” He reels away from you, a hand coming up to his chest in shock. “Real?” He repeats. You give him a wary look. “Mr. Auerswald, forgive me, but this piece, while exquisite, may very well be an exceptional fake. How can I be certain? You are asking quite a bit of money and I’d rather not shell out for what will turn out to be an excellent forgery.” “Ma’am, I can assure you that this is an authentic piece,” Auerswald swears. You keep the wary look on your face as you look over the painting. “But--” “No buts. If you’ve simply come to stare--” “If I wanted to simply stare, I’d have gone to a museum.” “As if you could still find this Van Gogh in a museum,” Auerswald begins to laugh, as do you, for appearances -- but in your ear, you can hear the van door being thrown open. It’s only a matter of moments before you hear the door of the shop being thrown open, the woman at the front scream, the sound of Nick’s voice and the thundering of the team’s footsteps. You didn’t have a gun - you weren’t allowed (you’d asked). So you have no way of holding Auerswald beyond the physical when the man began to make for the door, trying to close it. You reach out, catching hold of his jacket and yanking back. “What are you--” He begins to ask before his expression turns cold. You weren’t allowed to have a gun. No one asks criminals if they’re allowed. Auerswald’s is out of his jacket and points at you in seconds. You let go, taking a few steps back and raising your hands, watching him closely. “Auerswald!” Connors yells to draw his attention, but Auerswald doesn’t turn to look at him, or the rest of the team. You don’t look at the team, either - you’re too scared to look anywhere but at the man pointing a gun at you. “Drop it, you’re not making it outta here clean,” You hear Zapata warn. “You wanna add a murder charge to your rap sheet, be my guest,” Nick egged him on, “But you heard him, you’re not making it out of here without cuffs on.” You aren’t sure who fired first - you’d never know, really. It might’ve been Henderson, it might’ve been Auerswald. Either way, you hit the floor. Henderson fires at the guy’s foot, nails him, and he goes down; Auerswald fires, but misses you for the most part - a combination of your ducking out of the way and his flailing from being shot. Borracho is over you in seconds, murmuring that he has you, that you’re safe. “‘M fine,” You swear, your voice shaking a little as you reassure him, “I was just-- I mean, in case--” “Sweetness,” His voice is tight; he’s got one arm under you to help you sit up, the other is resting on your right forearm. You vaguely register the sound of Z calling in medical for two people, and then you feel the seering pain in your right bicep. You glance down, see the blood seeping through your suit jacket sleeve. “...Is that all?” You try to tease, but Borracho wasn’t looking at you anymore. He was staring daggers at Nick’s retreating back. -- “Stitches can come out in about ten days,” The EMT tells you, and thank her before you stand up. You’re a little shaky - from the adrenaline dropping away, or from your feet falling asleep in your stupid heels. Either way, Borracho’s hands are there to steady you. You lean against him, sliding your left arm around his waist. “Home?” You ask. He nods, eyes set ahead, and you know you won’t get anything out of him until you two are somewhere safe and quiet. You just brace yourself for the silent car ride and try to ignore the throbbing in your arm.

[upsteadhq]

snowy surveillance

prompt: “if i hear you complain one more time about being bored i’m going to shove you outside and lock the door. there you can be bored and cold”

for @cpdfan231. happy holidays! from your secret santa :)

The one thing Hailey didn’t expect to be doing on Christmas Eve was sitting in the surveillance van in the middle of a very dodgey alleyway.

They had gotten a lead in the case Intelligence was working, one they were so close to finishing, and after losing a bet with Adam and Kevin over who would do the surveillance, she found herself sat there next to Jay, watching over at the building across the street.

It was nearing midnight, the dimmer light of the alley allowing them to sit up the front of the van to watch, rather than in the back - which was only a little helpful because of the heater, even though it was basically busted because had been used so much the last few hours.

There was no movement from outside the building, or inside the building, or anywhere around the building and Hailey could feel herself getting bored, and she could tell Jay was feeling the same.

“We could play a game to pass the time?” Hailey suggests after hearing Jay groan under his breath for the third time.

Jay shoots her a quizzical look, raising his eyebrows slightly. “We’re not kids, we don’t need to play a game.”

Hailey shrugs her shoulders. “Well then what do you suggest?” She asks, “Because I’m not listening to you complain any more.”

She can see him wiggle his eyebrows beside her and she already starts rolling her eyes before his verbal response could leave his mouth.

“I mean I have one idea.” He responds coyly.

Now it was Hailey’s turn to shoot him a stare over her shoulder, this one a mix of being slightly unamused as well as trying to hide the blush creeping on her cheeks.

They stare to each other for a beat before Hailey turns away, letting out a breathless chuckle as she puts her eyes back on the building.

Since Hailey’s job offer with the FBI the two of them had acknowledged their feelings toward each other and they had acted on it a few times, spending the night at the other’s place on more than one occasion, but they both were still trying to figure out the grounds of where they currently stood, relationship-wise.

“Very funny,” Hailey mumbles under her breath, keeping her gaze locked on the building, waiting for any signs of movement around it, “I’m being serious though, if I hear you complain one more time about being bored I’m going to shove you outside and lock the door. There you can be bored and cold.”

Jay puts his hands up in a fake surrender. “Alright, I won’t bring it up again.”

“Thank you.” She says with a slight smile creeping up on her lips and then the van goes into a silence again.

The next few minutes go by before the door they were watching swings open, one of their targets stepping out into the cold Chicago winter and it makes them sink down in their seats. Jay brings the camera up to his eye, snapping a few pictures of their man leaving the building whilst remaining as hidden as he could. As fast as the guy appears though, he disappears around the corner and out of their eye line.

“Should we follow him?” Jay furrows his brows, putting the camera back down from where he had picked it up.

Hailey shakes her head. “Hang low for a few more, just in case someone else comes out.” She instructs and he nods, them both putting their full attention back on the door again.

Just as they fall into a silence again it’s broken suddenly by Jay banging his fist against the heater. “Is this thing on?”

“Jay, you know the thing’s busted, hitting it won’t help.” Hailey sighs but despite this, Jay throws another fist at the radiator.

He huffs. “It’s freezing in here.”

Hailey’s response was almost immediate. “I’m well aware of that fact.” She mumbles as she swears she can see her breath.

Another beat goes by before Jay starts talking again, his words yet another complaint. “Can’t they just all leave the building? It’s boring one by one.”

Hailey swiftly turns her head to face him. “That counts as bringing up you’re bored.” She says, leaning across the seat and trying to reach for the door handle beside him.

“What? No it doesn’t, I didn’t say those specific words!” He shouts, trying to fight against her shoves to get him out of the van.

He doesn’t fight against it for much longer, either that or she regains feeling in her fingers enough to be able to actually shove him out of the van. She quickly slams the door shut before he can climb back in and shoots him an innocent smile as he stands on the other side looking very unamused.

He taps his finger against the glass. “Okay you made your point, ha-ha-ha very funny, now can you please open the door?”

Hailey takes her gaze from the window and shakes her head as she looks back to the door in front of her. “Nope.” She replies, emphasizing the ‘p’.

“You do know it’s in the low 20’s at the moment, right?” Jay asks, and Hailey gives him a knowing nod in response, “Good, so you know it’s freezing right now, please open the door.”

“I told you not to bring it up again.”

“I know and trust me, I deeply regret it, now can you please let me in before I freeze?” He asks.

Hailey watches him drop his face into the best puppy-dog eyes he had and she can’t help but feel a little sympathetic for him, knowing how cold it really was out there today. She almost caves but then changes her mind half way to the door, shaking her head to him once again.

It was only another ten minutes or so before they got called back to the district so he wasn’t out there that long but she doesn’t hear the end of it for a long time.

At least he never brought up how bored he was whilst doing surveillance again though.

[3pirouette]

Fic: Domestic Bliss and International Espionage (1/1)

Title: Domestic Bliss and International Espionage By: TriplePirouette/3Pirouette Spoilers: General TFA and AC Disclaimer: They're not mine. Word Count: 8109 Distribution: AO3 Anyone else please ask first :)

Story Summary: For Tumblr’s @superhero-daugthers11 as a pinch hit for the Steggy Secret Santa. Steve and Peggy, back in the US after the war, go undercover as a newlywed couple to find a Hydra scientist hiding in the suburbs.

A/N: This is 100% inspired by several things. 1. One of my all-time favorite X-Files Episodes “Arcadia” 2. The first episode of WandaVision 3. My giftee saying she liked the idea of Steggy married/dating and working together for SHIELD, and 4. Getting another Steggy Bingo Prompt in there… sentence prompt: “Did you really just insult Captain America in front of me?”

Please assume/add in your headcanons for the following: Steve was rescued shortly after the Valkyrie crash and OBVIOUSLY has pursued a romantic relationship with Peggy. Due to this, the events of the Agent Carter series have NOT happened. They’re both working for the SSR, tying up loose ends from the war.  

Easiest way to see what I see is to imagine Steve and Peggy in the Petrie’s house from the Dick Van Dyke Show… but if you’re not familiar with that, the house from the first episode of WandaVision will do nicely.

~*~

Steve turned from the suitcase where he was lifting folded shirts out. “Just… consider this a test run.”

Peggy smirked, leaning against the doorjamb of the bedroom. She held out her hand, one of Steve’s socks dangling from her two fingers. “What, for me finding your stinky socks on the bathroom floor? Strike one, Rogers.”

Peggy tossed the sock to him, moving into the small bedroom with its double twin beds. She sat heavily on the side of hers, shaking her head. “If this is anything like moving, I’ll never do it again. I’m exhausted.”

Steve tucked his shirts away in the drawer, turning back to her, balling the sock up in his hand and tossing it into the hamper in the closet. “Most houses don’t have top of the line surveillance equipment we would have to hide in the roses.”

“The neighbors are already peeking out,” Peggy said, kicking her shoes off and sliding them under the edge of the bed with her toe. “I saw some from the back door peeking over while I was finishing in the kitchen. I’m sure we’ll have visitors tomorrow.”

Steve grabbed his empty suitcase from the bed and slipped it in the closet, shutting the door. “I’m surprised we didn’t have any today, what with all the commotion of moving in.”

Peggy shrugged, bouncing back to lie on the bed. “In my experience, deep cover Hydra scientists trying to hide out in suburban communities don’t just knock on your door and announce themselves.”

Steve chuckled, moving over to sit on the side of her bed at her hip. He gently took her left hand, running his thumb over the fake wedding band she wore. Peggy smiled up at him. “You know, Angie told me you’d asked her about my ring size.” Steve’s eyebrows rose to his hairline, and she could see his mind trying to scramble to salvage the surprise. “Oh, I know it’s coming, Steve. Don’t try to pretend it isn’t.”

He smiled softly. “I was hoping to surprise you is all.”

“You will,” she whispered, shifting to hold his hand tight. “When, where, how… I’ll try to avoid using my super spy powers on you to divine those things.” She reached her other hand to slide up his arm. “I’m an inpatient woman, so don’t make me wait too long.”

Steve smiled wolfishly at her, leaning over and putting his weight on his left hand, trapping her under him. “I mean, this counts, right?” He leaned down, letting Peggy traverse the last few centimeters to bring their lips together, kissing her sweetly. “This counts as being married?”

She chuckled as she kissed him, reaching one arm up to twine in the short hairs at the nape of his neck. “Absolutely does not.”

He pulled back a bit, teasing. “I mean, I am sleeping right over there…”

“In your own bed,” Peggy pushed them up to sitting, wrapping both arms around his shoulders.

“And it would be so easy to just push them together.”

She shook her head, teasing, despite the fact that the idea seemed like a good one to her. “Scandalous.”

Steve kissed her gently again. “Well, I suppose I should at least pretend to let you get a good night’s sleep?”

Peggy nodded, smiling. “We’ve got a bit of work ahead of us, I think. Very few men trying to hide from prosecution for war crimes make themselves known.”

“Good night then,” he kissed her softly and pushed away from her, “Mrs. Harper.”

Peggy tipped her head with a sultry smile. “Mr. Harper.”

~*~

Peggy moved the eggs around the pan, eyes tight on them as Steve walked into the kitchen the next morning. “Don’t distract me,” she mumbled. “The second I look away they burn.”

He watched her for a moment as she gently stirred the scrambled eggs, eyes intent as he’d ever seen them. “Stove burning too hot?”

“Simply out of practice, I’m afraid. Already ruined four eggs this way.” She pulled the pan off the heat and separated the eggs on to two plates. “Anything I’ve eaten for the last few years has come from a mess, out of a can, or from the automat.” She set the empty pan down and snapped off the heat. “Why you ever married me I’ll never know.”

He moved over, taking both plates and kissing her on the cheek. “Why, I like it so much, I might do it twice.”

Peggy chuckled, moving the pan to the sink and running water in it. “Easy there, soldier. We haven’t made it through this mission yet.” She peeked over at his silence, then turned around all the way, meeting his intent stare. “It’s the apron, isn’t it? I’ve gone too far?”

Steve watched, hands still full of plates, as she spun in her dress, looking for something out of place while her perfect curls bounced around her face like something out of a beauty magazine. He smiled, “No, no- I just…” he cleared his throat, moving to set the plates on the small table in the kitchen. He took a gentle deep breath and moved over to her. “It’s all a little… too perfect, you know? Not quite us, I think, but like something out of a movie.”

Peggy bit her lip, stepping closer to him so he could wrap her in his arms. “This whole thing is a bit spot on.” She played with the edge of his cardigan, the blue doing amazing things for his eyes. “But needs must when trying to build a trap.”

He moved his hand to trace over her chin, feeling content and happy despite the threat. “Will you cook me eggs after this is all over?”

Peggy would her arms around his neck, humming happily. “If you’re a good boy.” After a moment, she pushed back, centering herself. “Though you haven’t eaten them, yet, so you are taking a large chance there, darling.” She pushed him towards the table and followed shortly, two mugs of coffee in her hands.

“Peg—”

“Betty,” she demanded, stopping and looking at him. “I agree that this little fantasy is a bit of a slippery slope for the both of us, but we really must start doing better.” She sat and slid his coffee to him, looking him in eyes pointedly. “Roger.”

Steve nodded, taking the coffee. “Right. Betty,” he paused, the name not rolling off his tongue easily, “I can help with the cooking.”

“And risk someone seeing?” She picked up her fork, face stern. “From this moment on, no matter what, we’re happy newlyweds Roger and Betty Harper. I’m a stay-at-home wife who loves to knit and worked in a bullet factory during the war, you’re a veteran and you do figures at an accounting firm in the city. Perfect little wife, doting husband. Suburban life to a ridiculous, stereotypical T, got it?”

He held out his hand and she took it, looking at her plate rather than at him. “Hey,” he waited until she lifted her eyes. “I was just enjoying it too much. I know our cover. I’m in this one hundred percent, okay?”

Peggy held his hand and squeezed lightly, the smile returning to her face. “Yes, dear.”

~*~

By mid-morning they’d had five of the neighboring wives stop in to introduce themselves. Most were kind, young, gregarious and a bit overly excited to get to know them once Steve showed his face.

“You should stay in the kitchen when the next one comes over,” Peggy complained, sitting heavily on their small couch. “I can’t stand another wide-eyed housewife dazzled by your smile.”

Steve laughed, sitting next to her. “There’s only one housewife I want dazzled by my smile.”

Peggy collapsed into his lap, looking up at him. “She’s a little too tired to be dazzled right now. Somehow social pleasantries are more exhausting than the battlefield.” She closed her eyes, letting Steve’s fingers running through her hair lull her into a sense of calm. “Anything on any of the cameras?”

“No,” Steve didn’t slow his movements as his hand combed through her hair. He’d spent his morning when he wasn’t meeting neighbors “working,” keeping an eye on all of the cameras and equipment they’d set up. “So far just people mowing their lawns and taking walks.” She could feel his chuckle. “Not that I expected to see anyone building a bomb in their back yard…”

She reached up a hand, gently hitting him in the chest. “Don’t be flippant about it. Some people are quite stupid.”

The doorbell rang again and Peggy hoisted herself from Steve’s embrace, straightening her dress and forcing a smile on her face. “You look perfect,” Steve reassured.

She huffed, her eyebrows bouncing high on her forehead as she moved to the front door. “Hello?” She asked, her tone changing as she pulled the door open.

Standing across from her was a young woman, similar in age to Peggy, with sharp features and immaculately styled blonde hair. “Oh, hi! I hope I’m not interrupting?” Her Midwest accent was sharp, just a little too bubbly as she held out the dish she was holding. “I just wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood.”

Peggy swept back, opening her arm. “Please come in. I’m Betty and this is my husband, Roger.”

“Dottie Underwood,” she said quickly, smiling back and forth between the both of them. “I brought you some cookies, I baked them fresh last night, and if I leave them around the house I’m afraid my father just eats them all.”

Peggy carefully took the dish, smiling as she set it down. “They look wonderful, thank you.”

Dottie’s eyes swept around the house, somewhat more intent than a simple curious glance. “You’re quite welcome. How are you settling?”

Steve stood tall, smiling brightly as he moved next to Peggy, gently laying his hand on her back. “Well enough, people have been very kind. I think we’ve met most of the neighborhood by now, haven’t we, honey?”

Peggy giggled, leaning into his side and watching how Dottie tried to keep her smile straight. “Oh, at least the whole street, I’m sure.”

“That’s wonderful.” Dottie smiled brightly. “I was hoping maybe you’d come over for dinner tonight? I live with my father and I’m afraid he doesn’t go out much anymore, but he does enjoy meeting everyone.”

Steve and Peggy shared a short look. To the average person it seemed just a husband and wife consulting one another, to the trained eye, the conversation that happened was much more in-depth and quick. “Well,” Steve replied quickly, “I think we’d be delighted.”

“Oh, that’s just wonderful,” Dottie replied, her smile growing wider, eyes sparkling as she moved toward the door. “I’ll go tell father, he’ll be so pleased.”

Dottie smiled at them, the three standing quietly until Steve nudged Peggy I the back. “Oh, yes, is there anything we can bring?” Peggy asked, trying to hide her forgetfulness with a fluster.

Dottie laughed lightly, moving towards the door. “Just yourselves. Six o’clock, sharp.” She stopped, hand on the knob. “We’re the little blue house, 1013, just on the other side of the street.”

Once she was out, Peggy scooted to the window, watching as Dottie meandered down the driveway and sidewalk, eyes never leaving her until she disappeared into her own home. “Did she strike you as…”

“Trying to hard?” Steve supplied, looking over her shoulder. “Suspicious?”

Peggy turned, looking at him, the agent emerging from the housewife. “Do we have a camera on their house?”

Steve smiled. “Rosebush 3.”

~*~

“What do you mean you invited them over?” Fennhoff bellowed, slamming his fist on the small kitchen table. “What about in hiding do you not understand?”

Dottie rolled her eyes at him, sitting across the table. “Sometimes the best place to hide is out in the open, Papa.” The title dripped from her lips, sarcastic and biting. She pulled the notebook he was scribbling in away, forcing him to look at her. “If we want to fit in, we need to get to know these people, make them want to help and protect the old man and his daughter.”

He grabbed the notebook back. “We should stay inside.”

“You can’t build a new identity by staying inside you helpless oaf.” Dottie stood, pushing away from the table and letting the legs of the chair scrape along the floor. She rounded the small table, leaning over the scientist’s shoulder, eyes dark. “My job is to protect you until Hydra builds itself back up and is ready for you to come back. You trust me, or you get caught. Your call.”

He pursed his lips tight, unhappy. “We should be at their home, going through their things.”

Dottie made a noise in the back of her throat as she rolled her eyes and moved away. “Like I haven’t thought of that.” She moved away, leaning on the kitchen counter. “I’ve already told them you’re unwell. At some point we’ll make your excuses and you can go see what you can find.”

His eyes narrowed dangerously. “I am not the one who is a spy, you are.”

Dottie smiled like a snake, her teeth sharp and gleaming in the light. “You’re whatever I tell you you are until this whole thing is over.”

~*~

Steve looked at the young man across the dinner table, knowing he was lying. As hard as he’d tried to get in the Army, there had been more people trying just as hard, if not harder, to get out of it. “4F you say?”

“Yeah,” Dan from across the street cleared his throat. “Asthma. Wouldn’t let me enlist over a little thing like that.”

Dinner was a strained affair. Steve and Peggy saw upon their arrival that they hadn’t been the only people invited. Dottie has also invited her neighbors, Dan and Laura Smythe, to try to help them get to know people. Though they tried to keep the conversation moving, it was stilted and uncomfortable. Dottie, all smiles, kept trying to shift topics of conversation while her father sat grumpily at the head of the table.

“Beastly affair, that war.” Dottie’s feigned sadness was easy to see through. “It’s how I lost my Earnie.”

Laura wasn’t quite as sharp as Peggy and fell for the faux sadness, letting her hand rest on the woman’s arm. “Your beau?”

“We were engaged,” Dottie continued, sniffling dramatically. “He was a pilot with the 107th, got shot down over enemy territory.”

Steve and Peggy shared a look. There hadn’t been any pilots in the 107th, definitely none named Earnie. A quick glance at the older Underwood revealed nothing. He had no feelings about the loss of the man who supposedly was going to marry his daughter, which struck them both as odd.

Laura, however, was eating it up. “Was he one of the soldier’s that Captain America saved in that amazing rescue? Didn’t he save nearly that whole battalion?”

Dottie shook her head. “No, he was lost just before that, I’m afraid.”

“Well, that didn’t happen, anyway.” Steve said with a bold confidence that made every face turn and look at him.

Peggy’s jaw tightened as she turned to him, putting a hand to his arm. “Darling.”

“No, you know how I feel about this, Betty.” Steve turned and patted her hand, every inch the dismissive husband. “I was out there, fighting for my life, fighting to get back to you, and they parade this guy around in tights on newsreels?”

“Laura and I saw him at one of those USO shows,” Dan started, causing Peggy to squeeze Steve’s arm in concern that their ruse was about to fall apart, “I swear I saw wires. Guy was an actor and a hack.”

“Right?” Steve threw up his hand, nodding appreciatively at the man. “No way he was that strong.”

Laura giggled a bit, leaning towards Dottie. “He was quite handsome, though, don’t you think?”

Dottie, hoping to defuse some of the tension she could feel radiating around the table, just laughed along. “Oh yes, very handsome.” Dottie turned her smile across the table. “Did you ever get to see him, Betty?”

Peggy folded her hands under the table. “Oh, a few times.” She snuck a look at Steve then leaned forward, whispering towards the women though she knew full well everyone could hear her. “Those tights were quite the uniform!”

The women giggled, Dan pressed his lips into a tight line, and Steve had to bite his tongue to keep a straight face. The elder Underwood, for his part, was growing more and more upset.

“That man won them the war,” the elder Underwood grumbled.

“Impossible.” Steve turned to him, almost enjoying the part he was playing. “Hollywood smoke and mirrors. I was out there and I never saw him or that shield. Not once.”

Underwood pushed himself away from the table, his face growing red. “Did you really just insult Captain America in front of me?” He stood, leaning over Peggy and Steve with enough menace that Steve put his arm across Peggy, ready to move her behind him if the man became any more aggressive. “You come into my house and you say these things?”

Steve had been having fun with their plan to insult his alter ego, see if their hosts were sympathetic, showed any leanings to the Axis powers, but this hit home. He knew people had idolized him, and as much as that had made him uncomfortable, he understood how important it was to have a symbol of hope in such a bleak time.

Before Steve could reply and apologize the man stormed off. Dottie stood, stuttering an apology, and followed him into the house.

“Well, I for one am with you,” Dan said, raising his fork and diving back into his dinner. “Man was a fraud.”

Peggy grabbed Steve’s hand under the table and squeezed.

~*~

“What was that back there?” Dottie demanded in a hushed voice once she’d closed the door to Fennhoff’s room behind them.

“Distraction,” he said sharply, his accent becoming more pronounced. “You want distraction, you get distraction.”

Dottie huffed, crossing her arms. “And what am I supposed to tell them now?”

“That your father is a great patriot. That he needs his rest. You say whatever you say while I go pretend to be spy.” Fennhoff waved her away and opened the window in his room, grumbling about how he was supposed to slip out. “Lock the door.”

~*~

Steve stood as Dottie joined them back at the table. “I should go apologize.”

“No, no,” Dottie shooed him back to his seat. “My father gets grumpy sometimes. He just needed to take his pills and lay down for a spell.” She sat herself back down and laid her napkin on her lap with deliberate flair. “It’ll all be forgotten after a quick nap, I promise.”

“Still, I’d feel better if I could,” Steve reluctantly sat, rearranging his own napkin.

“I’m sure he’ll be back out in a bit.” She smiled widely, a motion that did not reach her eyes. “He just never misses dessert!”

~*~

Anyone fluent in Russian would have been scandalized at the string of words coming from Fennhoff’s lips as he snuck into the back of the Harper home.

“Don’t even lock their doors,” Fennhoff mumbled as he slipped in their back door. He moved carefully through the dark kitchen, futilely opening and closing cabinets. He did not expect to find anything in the home of that vapid man who didn’t believe Captain America was real.

He’d seen the damage that man could do with his own eyes. Anyone who believed Captain America hadn’t won the war for the Allied forces was either dimwitted, a fool, or both.

He tried to stay quiet as he moved through the house, but there wasn’t much light and even less to see that was interesting. The house was only sparsely decorated with few, if any, places to hide things. He made his rounds quickly, opening and closing closets and doors and saw nothing that would make him think these people were anything other than what they said they were: boring American suburbanites.

He stopped on his way out and opened the small broom closet he’d neglected on the way in, sighing when there was nothing more than a broom, mop, and bucket there.

“Dumb woman spy,” he mumbled, letting himself out quietly.

~*~

“Next time we’ll have you over,” Peggy said, holding both of Dottie’s hands at the door. “Dinner was simply marvelous.”

“Oh, shucks,” Dottie took one hand to bat the compliment away. “It was so lovely to get to know you and welcome you to the neighborhood.”

The corner of Steve’s mouth crooked up sadly. “Please give my apologies to your father.”

“No need,” she reached out, stroking Steve’s shoulder in a motion that was just slightly more than neighborly. “He’s a stubborn old man and you are a great war hero, Mr. Harper. You’re allowed a difference of opinion, especially since you were there.”

“All the same,” Steve stepped back out of her reach, taking Peggy’s hand and moving away. He felt like if he didn’t escape, they’d be exchanging pleasantries all night. “Have a great night.”

“You too!” Dottie called, watching from the door as they turned.

Steve pressed his hand to Peggy’s back, pushing her down the pavement just a little faster. “She’s still watching,” he mumbled. “Gosh, such lovely neighbors around here, don’t you think, honey?” he let his voice drift louder.

“Absolutely, darling. I’m so excited to get to know them all. Maybe join the Women’s Auxiliary.” Peggy leaned closer to Steve, her voice lower now, “Is she still watching? My face hurts from smiling.”

“Few more feet, dear,” he whispered. He leaned down, “I think Dan and Laura are out there now,” he pointed to his ear, signaling he could hear them talking, “Want to give them a show?”

Peggy raised her eyebrow, the false suburban smile she’d been sporting morphing into a smirk he was much more used to seeing on her face. “Show?”

He led her up the steps, stopping to dig the keys out of his pocket. Once he did, he reached out and unlocked the door, pushing it open. Before she could step in, he swept her off her feet, carrying her like she was a brand-new bride. Peggy squeaked, grabbing on to his shoulders more out of surprise than fear that he would drop her on the front porch.

She laughed. “This is what you had in mind?”

He leaned forward, kissing her gently. “Gotta sell that newlywed cover,” he whispered against her lips. “They watching?”

Peggy shifted her head as he turned them a bit, his lips on hers again. Peggy squinted, making it look like her eyes were closed. She didn’t normally like to do double duty while Steve was kissing her, but he managed to avoid distracting her too badly. She could see the Smythe’s and Dottie on the porch, eyes glues to them. From the window, the elder Underwood peaked out. Peggy dragged her lips away. “All watching. And slightly scandalized.”

“They’ll be very scandalized in a minute,” he mumbled, kissing down her neck.

Peggy hit him playfully in the shoulder. “Barbarian!” She laughed as he growled in her ear. “Inside at once!” She kicked a bit as he straightened up, laughing as he bounced her in his arms. Steve made a show of almost losing his balance and nearly dropping her as he stepped over the threshold for their audience. For good measure he kicked the door closed, wishing he could see all of their faces.

He’d absolutely go back and check the surveillance tapes just to see what they looked like.

He turned, putting Peggy down and pressing her up against the door, letting his lips meet hers again. “That was fun.”

She hummed happily, but pushed him away. “Quite, but we still have work to do.” She moved past him, then stopped as she flipped on the light. She held out her hand, then pointed. “And you made fun of me for vacuuming us out before we left.”

“You were wearing pearls and an evening dress.” Steve pointed out, bending low to look at the fresh footprints that showed against the new, freshly cleaned nap of the carpet. “What do you think?”

“Man’s shoe, fairly large.” Peggy moved around, following the path. “Came from the kitchen, so… in through the back door.”

“Looks like he took a peek in each room,” Steve added, opening the doors and following the trail, “then back through the kitchen to go out.”

“You think they found…” Peggy started, but didn’t finish, following Steve into the kitchen and watching as he opened the closet door.

“Doubt it, everything’s exactly as I left it, including that little bit of flour by the wall.” He smiled up at her, trying to show off the tricks he’d slowly been learning from her since they’d been working together stateside. He warmed at bit at her smile, then moved the mop, broom, and bucket. With a firm push to one side of the back wall, it spun, sweeping the flour on the floor into a wide, tell-tale circle and revealing that the closet was actually three times the size, hiding a small bank of monitors and recording equipment. “Shall we?”

They both slipped in the small space, Steve on the stool he occupied for most of the day while surveilling, Peggy peering over his shoulder as he found the reel trained on their back door and rolled it back. It was fuzzy in the darkness, but the figure creeping through their rosebushes seemed quite familiar. “Is that Underwood?” Peggy asked, waiting for Steve to roll the tape back and forth until they had a fairly clear picture.

“Looks like it,” Steve mumbled, marking down the time and reel for future reference. “What do you think he’s looking for?”

“Same as we are,” Peggy said quietly, slipping from the closet to lean on the door jamb. “If they’re in hiding, they’re looking out for anyone wanting to find them.”

Steve reloaded some of the reels, marking others and setting the film aside to review tomorrow. Peggy watched him work, smiling as he rolled up his sleeves, concentration fully on his task. She leaned on the doorway, slipping off her heels and content to just be for the moment. Steve slipped out of the hidden space, pushing the fake wall back in place and sweeping the flour back into an indistinguishable line along the bottom of the wall.

“Do you think it will be like this?” Peggy mused, watching as he ran a damp cloth along the visible floor of the closet, hiding the existence of the flour even further to sell their ruse.

“Do I think what will be like what?” Steve asked, standing and laying the wet dishcloth over the back of a chair to dry.

Peggy bounced over to him on her toes, hands holding her heels behind her back, hips swaying and swinging her skirt around her in a manner that was much more carefree than Steve had seen her in a long time. “Do you think our marriage will be like this? Domestic bliss and snogging against the front door one minute and international espionage the next?”

Steve tilted his head, his forehead creasing in thought as he wrapped his arms around her. “You know, it probably will. Though I’d like to say we’ll need much less surveillance at our house.”

“Our house…” she mused, smiling widely. “Kind of thrilling, isn’t it?” Peggy wrapped her arms around him with a sly smile, heels still dangling from her fingers.

His brows knit together for just a brief moment, the concern replaced by amusement on his face. “I don’t think life with you will ever be boring, dear.” He leaned down, kissing her gently.

Peggy leaned back, eyes still closed, a smile on her lips. She blinked her eyes open, half lidded and dreamy. “What say you to pushing the beds together tonight, Mr. Harper?”

He kissed her again, nipping at her bottom lip. “Sounds like an excellent idea to me.” Without warning, Steve bent his knees, grabbing behind her thighs and lifting her up.

She wrapped her legs around his hips, a sly smile on her face. “You enjoy showing off like that, don’t you?”

“For you?” His smile lit up his face. “Absolutely.”

Her face went blank, her eyes darting around the room as if people were there that might overhear her. “Small confession.” She leaned close to him, eyes sincere. “If, tomorrow, you woke up and were that 98 pound asthmatic man I first met, I’d love you all the same. But, and I’ll deny this until the day I die to anyone else,” her eyes grew mischievous, “I like it when you show off very much. Please don’t ever stop.”

He laughed, full and hearty, as he started to move toward the bedroom. Peggy bounced her heel off his lower back, trying to turn him like a horse. “Ah! Back, soldier. We’ve got doors to lock!”

Steve laughed, turning back and shifting her to his hip so he could see and secure the house without having to put her down. “Yes, ma’am!”

~*~

“They are not spies,” Fennhoff insisted, pushing past Dottie.

She shook her head, closing the cabinet door with more force than necessary. The kitchen was still in a state from the dinner party and as usual she was left to clean everything up. “I’m telling you, you’re wrong. You just didn’t know where to look.”

The man grumbled and disappeared down the hall, the sound of his bedroom door slamming and locking echoing through the house.

~*~

The morning sun was bright coming through the front room’s picture window. Steve squinted as he stepped up behind Peggy, wrapping one arm around her waist as his other hand wound around her to offer her the cup of tea he held. “A little sunny, isn’t it?”

She hummed in agreement as she took and sipped her tea, her eyes never leaving the street where they were staring intently. “See that tabby?”

He followed her line of sight, things clearer as he got used to the brightness, to the small grey cat bouncing up and down the curb across the street outside of Dottie’s house. “I mean, it’s cute, but I don’t think right now is the best time to get a pet, Betty.” A soft humor infused his voice, knowing that Peggy’s plans were far past pets as she stayed intent on the creature.

“Hum, maybe not. But nevertheless, it’s been in and out of our yard, too, and I’ve noticed it doesn’t have a collar.” She let her free hand run over the arm around her waist. “What’s the range on those bugs Howard gave us?”

“With a direct line of sight, 100 yards.” He shrugged, thinking. “Obscured? Maybe 50. Could be more or less depending on what’s between us and it.” He buried his nose in her hair, inhaling her soft scent before pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. “You have a plan.”

She turned and smiled at him. “I have a plan.”

~*~

It started with a small saucer of milk late that morning. Peggy left it on the front stoop and spent a little while just sitting outside next to it, waving at neighbors and smiling. “You haven’t seen that little grey tabby, have you?” she would ask each passing person, concern all over her face, “I got a glimpse of him this morning and I could have sworn he was limping!”

By the afternoon, Steve was trying very hard to keep a straight face as he helped her “search” for the cat in their yard.

Just before dinner, Peggy palmed the small listening device, a thin disk that was barely the size of a quarter, and headed across the street, making tiny whispering and clicking noises, eyes, wide and sad.

Laura Smythe popped her head out of her kitchen window as Peggy knelt next to the storm drain between their house and Dottie’s. “Betty? Are you ok?”

“Oh, fine, Laura!” She stood and waved, her face tight. “I just could have sworn I saw that little grey stray cat and it was limping. I just want to make sure the poor thing is okay.” She huffed and stood, straightening her skirt. “Have you seen him?”

Laura shook her head. “Not since yesterday.” She smiled at Peggy. “So sweet of you to want to try to help him.”

“Well thanks, I—oh!” Peggy turned, eyes set on Dottie’s front yard. With a fake wobble in her heels, she was more adept in running in them than she’d like everyone to know, she darted towards the azalea bush and stopped short. She smiled back at Laura, “I think I’ve got him!” With a smile that had nothing to do with a cat, Peggy pushed her way into the bush and along the front side of the house. She made some noise, swished the plant a few times, and smiled to herself. It was going perfectly.

Dottie was on her porch before Peggy could even catch her breath from the run over, voice loud. “Goodness, Betty, what are you doing?” She demanded, incensed.

Peggy stood, using the ledge of the window to haul herself up and the exaggerated surprise she feigned to hide how she set the small bug in the corner of the sill and the window. “Oh! Dottie I hope I didn’t startle you!”

Dottie, less neighborly than yesterday, started at her. “You did, Betty. Why are you in my bushes?”

Peggy dropped her head, shaking it sadly. “Oh, I just saw that poor neighborhood cat limping this morning and I’ve been trying to get my hands on him and see if he was ok. I could have sworn I saw him over here!” Peggy looked around herself, as if she was just noticing what a mess she made. “Oh, goodness, what have I done? I just don’t think sometimes!”

Dottie couldn’t hide the suspicion on her face, but stepped down and offered Peggy her hand. “Let me help you out.”

“Oh, I am so sorry! Your beautiful flowers!” Peggy brushed the leaves and petals from her dress and gestured towards the slightly rumpled bush. “I’ll pay for any damages, I am so, so very sorry.”

“No need,” Dottie said coolly, her smile never reaching her eyes. “I never liked that one anyway.”

~*~

Steve was still laughing when she made her way back into the house. She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t deny that it must have looked a sight. “You almost done?” She crossed her arms, trying to hide her smile as she leaned against the counter.

He was still catching his breath as he emerged from his small control center in the broom closet, hand pressed to his chest. “Oh… oh that was priceless.”

She eyed him as he moved closer, leaning his hands on the counter on either side of her and looming with a bright smile on his face. Peggy rested her hand on his shoulders, enjoying the closeness. “Yes, but did it work?”

He nodded, reaching up with one hand and picking leaves and petals from her hair. He picked the last one and held the pink petal up for her to see. “It did. Not the clearest sound, but good enough.” He kissed her quickly, a peck full of pride and happiness. “You’re brilliant.”

“Why, thank you,” she replied happily, lifting up on her toes for another brief kiss before she ducked away under his arm. “Then you’re making dinner. I’m simply exhausted from looking for that cat all day!”

~*~

The chatter from the Underwood residence was tinny and quiet, but there wasn’t much to expect from the small transmitter. It did its job and Steve and Peggy could hear clear enough the woman and her father bickering in half sentences. Anytime they were in the back of the house they were out of range, but the front room and kitchen came in clear enough.

“They know they’re being monitored,” Peggy sighed, pulling off her headphones. Dottie’s tone had been harsh and clipped, and more than once her “father” had stopped short mid-sentence, either because he didn’t want to keep talking or because Dottie wanted him stopped.

Steve pulled off his own headphones and leaned back. He tried to stretch but his arms hit the wall of the small closet. “You’re right. They’re far too close lipped.”

“And the language is not nearly familiar enough to be father and daughter,” Peggy muttered, scooting to the side and leaning back onto Steve’s shoulder. His arm would around her immediately, stroking over her upper arm. “I’m not sold that they’re who we’re looking for, but I know they’re not who they say they are.”

Steve tipped his head into hers, cuddling close for a second. “What do you think? Time to turn in?”

She nodded against him “They’ll still be there tomorrow, I suppose.”

~*~

Peggy snuck out of her bed, tiptoeing as she picked up her robe and slippers, trying to avoid waking Steve in the middle of the night.

“Peg?” he murmured, turning.

She stopped, shifting her load to one hand to push his hair out of his eyes with the other as she bent by his bed. “Can’t sleep. Just getting some water.”

He hummed as her fingers moved over his cheek, catching her hand in his and turning his head to kiss her palm. “Don’t be long. You need to rest.”

She smiled as his eyes fluttered closed, sleep already pulling him back. “I’ll do my best, darling.”

Peggy slipped through the bedroom door, closing it behind her before wrapping herself in the robe and putting the slippers on her feet. There was a chill in the air, enough to make her wrap her arms around herself as she moved through the living room and to the kitchen.

She didn’t bother with the lights, the moonlight through the windows was enough to see by. She’d been lying in bed for hours, her mind running over scenarios of who the mysterious “father” and “daughter” team across the street could really be. She quietly opened the refrigerator, pulling out the orange juice. She filled the first glass she found and slipped the bottle back, sitting at the table in the darkness. She’d been expecting to find a man named Fennhoff masquerading as a widower. They didn’t know much about him, never mind what he looked like, but the presence of Dottie was baffling to her. The woman was suspicious and sharp, and deep inside Peggy thought she was smarter than she let on.

Peggy sipped her juice, not really wanting it but needing something to do with her hands. She thought about slipping back into the little closet, reviewing the tapes for the night, but decided against it. She needed to shut off her mind, quiet it, not rile it up. She needed rest so she could figure out what their next step would be. Steve was good, and getting better every day, but his real expertise was on the battlefield, not as a spy, and he still deferred to her in almost all matters for missions. She needed to be ready with a new plan by the time the alarm clock went off in the morning.

She wasn’t sure how long she was sitting in the dark, letting her mind wander, before she heard it: soft, crunching footsteps in the backyard. She lifted her glass and slowly made her way to behind the counter, crouched low and waiting. She didn’t have much of an advantage, but the juice would at least sting enough to give her the element of surprise.

Peggy steeled herself as she heard the doorknob slowly turn, the person jiggling it gently to confirm the lock was thrown. She slowed her breathing, mind clear and ready for anything as she heard the soft click of lock picks and the tumblers moving in place. The door opened almost silently, a small figure slipping in based on the shadow Peggy could see along the wall.

The person slipped in, looking quietly around the room. Peggy held her breath, waiting as the footsteps got closer, waiting for the person to be just close enough.

Without thought she stood, tossing the juice towards the intruder.

Dottie Underwood screeched as the acidic juice burned her eyes, stumbling back.

Peggy pressed forward, pushing her against the cabinets with both hands. She knew the rattle was loud enough to wake Steve and that he’d be there to back her up any moment. “What are you doing here?”

Dottie, eyes red and blinking furiously, took only a second to choose between lying and the truth. Truth, though, didn’t quite come with words. Instead, she threw her head forward, connecting her forehead with Peggy’s with a sickening crack. Peggy stumbled back, but had the advantage of knowing exactly where everything was in the kitchen. She didn’t need to look to get the pan from the stove, sitting and waiting for breakfast to be cooked up in a few hours, and swing it around.

Dottie threw a hand up just in time to keep the pan from connecting with her skull, and grabbed Peggy’s arm with her free one, grappling and forcing her to drop the pan with a clatter.

“Who are you?” Peggy ground out between her teeth, grabbing a fistful of hair and using that to hold Dottie in her frame of vision.

Dottie countered with a leg sweep, sending Peggy toppling over and off her feet. Peggy didn’t let go, though, and Dottie went down with her, landing them both between the island and the counter. “Just a concerned neighbor,” Dottie managed to huff out, pushing with her legs to try to get the upper hand and roll on top of Peggy. “Thought I saw a robber.”

“How kind,” Peggy grunted, managing to get her hand on a corner of the cabinet and use the leverage to get a leg out so she could knee the woman in the chest. Dottie lost her breath, leaving room for Peggy to pounce once again as she stumbled to stand and move away from her. Peggy started to move towards her again just as Steve rushed through the door of the kitchen, eyes wide and in nothing more than his pajama pants.

Steve’s arrival somewhat stymied Dottie. She paused, still trying to catch her breath, with Peggy huffing beside her. Steve looked between the two women and Peggy stared at him, disbelief in her eyes. “Her, please!”

Steve snatched Dottie around the waist and lifted her off her feet, keeping his head away from her flailing arms as she struggled. Peggy pulled the tie from her robe, using it to secure her hands behind her back once Steve had set her in one of the kitchen chairs.

“Still plan on sticking to your story,” Peggy huffed, sitting across from her as Steve stood guard, “or are you going to tell us what we need to know?”

Dottie smiled like a shark, her red, tearing eyes fighting the visual she wanted to present. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Peggy and Steve shared a look, and without a word he slipped out of the kitchen, headed back to the bedroom.

Dottie watched as he returned only moments later with a shirt and shoes to go with the pants, and a very brightly painted shield on his arm. He stepped in the kitchen and handed Peggy her gun before he disappeared out the front door.

Dottie winced; her eyes painful. “Betty, is it? Are you two even married?”

“Does it matter?” Peggy asked pragmatically, rounding the woman and checking her bindings. “I think what matters here is that you’re hiding something and I’d very much like to know what it is.”

“Do you have twin beds? Or just one big bed?” Dottie asked dreamily. “If I could have that in my bed…” she hummed, the salacious tone somewhat ineffective when combined with her sniffles.

“Are you here on behalf of Hydra?” Peggy asked, picking up a towel and mopping the orange juice from the floor.

Dottie continued rambling. “I mean, that’s one hundred percent American beefcake right there. USDA Prime. And strong.” She sighed happily. “When he picked me up… mmm mmm mmm.”

Peggy rolled her eyes behind the woman, picking the pan from the floor. “What about that man you’re with?”

“Oh, he’s about to have his day ruined.” Dottie laughed manically. “You see, when that Greek God of a man of yours riled him up about Captain America, he wasn’t lying. He gets riled up. Mostly because he hates him so much.” She laughed again. “When he wakes up and sees that shield over him… oh, he might just have a heart attack.”

Peggy checked the robe tie as she passed again, knowing it was hardly enough to secure someone who knew what they were doing before she opened the broom closet and pushed out the fake wall. “Last chance to give me anything before I throw you to the wolves.”

Dottie just sat, head held high, eyes still watering.

“Have it your way.” Peggy reached in and pulled out a beacon, tapping it twice. “The cavalry will be here shortly.”

~*~

Steve didn’t exactly feel fantastic about waking the old man up, but when he started cursing in Russian at him and pulled a gun from under his pillow, Steve reassessed his position.

He still felt bad when he had to knock him out though.

~*~

Peggy stood at the doorway, watching the rest of the SSR team pack the surveillance equipment away and hurry the rented furniture back in the truck as the forensics team was going over Dottie’s house. Dottie was safely in custody and Peggy would be interrogating her tomorrow at the SSR when everything was back to normal. It had been only four days since they moved in, but Peggy could admit, at least to herself, that she’d enjoyed playing house.

Steve came up behind her, his hands still at his sides rather than at her hips. They’d set clear ground rules when it came to the office and the SSR, and that meant no touching in front of co-workers. The absence of his hands when he was so close was causing the hairs on her arms to stand at attention. “What do you think about suburbia?” she questioned lightly, though it weighed heavily on her mind.

“Well, when there aren’t sleeper Hydra Agents hiding in it, it seems pleasant enough to me.” He shrugged, leaning on the doorjamb to look at her. “I grew up in the city, but I’m not attached to that as some idyllic idea of what life should be. Might be nice to have a little garden, some grass to cut, a front yard to build a snowman in and rake leaves…”

Peggy jutted her chin out the to Smythe house, where, like everyone else on the street, Dan and Laura were looking out the window, trying to get every bit of gossip they could. “Neighbors being neighborly.”

Steve dropped his voice. “I think we’d do well in someplace like this.”

Peggy smiled up at him before turning back to the men in the yard. “Agreed.”

“It should be bigger, though, to make room for the kids.” He nudged her with his elbow, a smile threatening to break out on his face. “Four, at least.”

Peggy raised her eyebrows at him. “Two.”

“Only two?” He asked, partially teasing and partially actually let down.

Peggy turned so the men in the yard couldn’t see or hear what she was saying. “Will you be popping them out then? Because until you are, I think the person actually carrying the children should have her opinion weighed slightly more.”

He nodded, eyebrows together tightly. “Point taken.”

She stepped closer, nudging him with her shoulder. “Perhaps we start with one, and see how we do, hum?” She pushed past him, the bump intentional and flirty. “Besides, I’m still waiting on that ring.”

Steve smiled out at the front yard, shoving his hands in his pockets. Good thing the ring was sitting back in his apartment in the top drawer of his dresser. Seeing as this little test run had gone well, maybe he’d pop the question sooner rather than later.

Domestic bliss and international espionage… Steve couldn’t think of anything he’d like more.

[truth-from-lies-in-fiction]

Making it Count

To celebrate their final Christmas before graduating from Auradon Prep, the Rotten Four take an impromptu trip to a cabin on the edges of a snow-covered forest. But will they be able to stop fighting long enough to enjoy each other's company, or are things coming to an end for the VKs?

-Written as a Secret Santa gift for @bunny-lou. Bunny-Lou, it’s been a pleasure being your Secret Santa for a second year in a row. I’ve really enjoyed tapping back into the bond shared by the VKs, and I hope you’ll enjoy the results. I apologize this is being posted a couple days past Christmas; my computer crashed two days before Christmas, and I’ve been playing catch-up since. I’m so glad to read that you had an amazing holiday, and I hope this week continues to be amazing for you. Happy holidays, my dear! And to @descendantsgiftexchange, thank you for all the work you do in putting this together every year.

~*~

Mal winds the borrowed van through a landscape of frost, squinting to see through tufts of falling snow. Muted moonlight shines through the windshield, guiding her and the Rotten Four on this, the journey to their final prep school Christmas.

They sit in silence.

Jay leans against the rear passenger window, furrowing his forehead in silent thought.

Carlos, seated on the other side, toys with the remnants of a candy wrapper and stares into nothingness.

Evie, on Mal’s right, sends glances skittering throughout the car. Toward the boys. Toward the falling snow. Toward Mal, who has not looked at her since they slid into the warmth of the van two hours earlier.

Or since the fight they’d shared just before that.

Mal bunches her fingers around the steering wheel, trying to push the words, the looks, the feelings of that fight from her mind. Trying and failing miserably. She squeezes the wheel until her knuckles turn white, while the image of Evie’s biting, betrayed glare pushes through her mind.

What do you mean you aren’t going to college? Evie’s words had pinched together like the punches of a sewing machine. We promised we’d go together.

Mal had hidden her gaze behind a fall of her hair. Anything to avoid that burning look in Evie’s eyes. College just isn’t for me. The lie tasted spoiled and burnt, like scorched milk meant to be sweet. She swallowed it down and turned her back. Maybe it’s time we were apart, Evie.

Apart? Evie curled her fingers around Mal’s arm. You’ve been pushing me away all year, and now you’re ready to run?

Evie’s voice broke on the final word, and a fissure went through Mal’s heart.

She opened her mouth to answer, but the truth died on her tongue. The boys will be here soon. She pulled her arm away. Get ready. I’ll warm up the van.

Now, as Mal turns the van around another curve leading to their rented cabin, the truth is bitter and hollow upon her tongue. She ignores Evie’s penetrating stare, the one strong enough to slip beneath her skin, and keeps her gaze focused on the tufts of snow illuminating this, one of the darkest nights of the year.

~*~

They round another turn taking them to the cabin, and Carlos scrunches the candy wrapper in his fist.

Jay still won’t look at him. Or talk to him. Or do anything but grunt, like he did when Carlos slid into the bucket seat beside him in the van.

Carlos tosses him a glance now. “Be good to get inside.”

Jay shrugs and offers a grunt.

Carlos sighs. “We’ll have to get a fire going. You know, to keep the place warm. Ben says the heat won’t kick on until tomorrow.”

“Whatever.” Jay runs his fingers along his tourney stick.

That stupid tourney stick. Carlos stuffs the candy wrapper into his jacket pocket along with his fist. That thing gets more attention than I do nowadays.

Jay lifts the stick in the space between seats and studies its tip, chipped from the previous year’s tourney championship. “Should probably get this thing fixed.”

Six words. More than he’s spoken to me in days. Carlos leans closer. “You’ll need it in good shape for when you join the kingdom’s tourney league after graduation.”

Jay frowns at the stick. “Nah. League’ll give me a new one.”

“Oh.”

Jay drops the stick onto the floor, then turns his head to stare outside at the silhouettes of mountains lining the road.

Carlos searches for something, anything to say, to keep this conversation going. Words form on his lips, then fizzle and fade. What do you say to a guy who’s decided you’re not good enough for him? He slinks into his seat. I’ve already said everything I can, and all he does is grunt.

He turns his head to stare outside his own window at the lines of towering fir trees, a direct contrast to Jay’s mountain ranges.

~*~

Jay pushes from his seat the moment Mal parks at the edges of Sherwood Forest, where the cabin is a dark shape within a grove of pine trees. He stumbles and his toes collide with his tourney stick, kicking it half-beneath the seat in front. Grumbling, he bends to retrieve it.

“Here.” Carlos slides to his knees and reaches for the stick.

Their fingers touch. Touch and linger.

A warmth like a brush fire flickers beneath Jay’s fingertips.

Carlos glances up, right into his eyes, and their gazes connect.

Jay snatches his hand away, flashing on the faces of his soon-to-be tourney teammates, who most definitely do not feel brush fires when they touch other guys.

Breaking eye contact with Carlos, he tugs his hand through his hair. “Leave it, man. Not like I’m gonna be playing tourney in the snow.”

“Are you –?”

Carlos doesn’t have time to ask whatever question he’s gonna ask because Jay steps over him and hops out of the van.

The girls are outside, staring in that annoying way they do, with questions and accusations written in their eyes.

Those two see everything. Jay walks past them. “Do me a favor and bring my bag inside,” he calls over his shoulder. “I’m going looking for firewood.”

“Wow, Jay.” Mal’s voice is hexed with the kind of wicked vindictiveness she’d possessed back on the Isle. “Did you actually use up breath talking to us?”

Jay bunches his shoulders around his ears. “Don’t get used to it.”

He marches into the woods, leaving bootprints in the snow. His final words hang heavy in the frigid air, reminding him why they decided this trip was a good idea. Bonding and all that.

Trips like these are dangerous. They lead to unwanted touches and unasked-for stares. Jay snatches a thick branch from the ground, then another. Next year, we go our separate ways. We start our own lives. And no way am I agreeing to any more impromptu trips like this one.

For some reason, the thought leaves a hollow space in his chest.

~*~

Evie shivers awake in the early morning, tangled in a set of the cabin’s cotton sheets. The room is freezing. So cold, it makes her skin ache. She rolls over onto her side, hugging her knees to her chest, and stares through the window into the Christmas Eve morning.

The fir trees are still, the moon muted behind the fall of snow. Holly branches scratch the windowpane, their crimson berries the only splash of color in this winter world.

Evie’s mind ticks back to the Isle. A holly bush grew there, too. I’ll always remember.

Remember the year she cut its branches and placed them around the Rotten Four’s Clubhouse. For festive cheer, she’d said when Mal had arched a pointed eyebrow.

In the back-then, Mal had rolled her eyes and muttered something beneath her breath. But she’d stared at Evie’s decorations for longer than a heartbeat, her mouth scrunched up in that way it’s always scrunched when her mind and heart are full of secrets she doesn’t want to share.

The next day, more holly had been added, filling in the spaces left by Evie’s holly. Adding an artistic flair to Evie’s designer touch.

When Evie asked her about it, Mal’s cheeks turned pink. If we’re going to decorate for Christmas, we might as well make it count, she said, staring at her boots.

Jay and Carlos stared at the holly, too. The day after that, a Christmas tree appeared in the Clubhouse. Like you said, Jay said, hammering the tree into a cross of wooden planks while Carlos held it steady, might as well make it count.

Evie’s heart had felt lighter than Gossamer fabric. It was the first time they’d all come together after their first adventures on the Isle. The first time they’d spent Christmas together, too, gathered around the tree, telling stories and making jokes.

Nothing like how we are this year. In the here-and-now, Evie rolls over onto her back and stares at the ceiling. Nothing like how things will ever be again.

After they’d arrived at the cabin and Jay had made the fire, they’d spent about twenty minutes together before they’d all escaped to different rooms. Why don’t we sleep out here by the fire? she’d asked, but the boys had made excuses and Mal had given her an imperceptible dragon-eyed stare before each of three doors had shut and the locks had clicked.

Evie sighs. Her heart is a leaden weight, pressing her down into the mattress. Our last Christmas before we all go our separate ways, and they want to treat it like it’s nothing more than a burden.

She tosses her gaze back to the holly and her mind back to memories of that first Christmas on the Isle. Resolve bubbles like warm water beneath her skin. I won’t let them.

She kicks her blankets off and springs from the bed.

She dresses in her warmest clothes – a full-length blue jacket, knee-high blue boots and wooly blue mittens – and hushes from the room, clicking the door closed behind her.

In the living room, the dying fire glows with its final orange embers. She slides a poker from the stand beside the fireplace and pokes at the embers, making them flicker and flare. Selecting a few thick branches, she places them into the fledgling flames. The orange tongues lick at the wood, and the fire blazes back to life.

She slides off her mittens and raises her hands to the fire, brushing them together above the flames. Warmth washes across her skin, soothing her aches. Much better than the chill that’s pervaded this place since last night.

With a sigh, she casts a glance toward Mal’s closed door. Her mind flickers back to the dragon-eyed stare Mal had offered just before she’d closed her door, and to the biting green glare she’d given when she’d confessed that she hadn’t applied to college.

The warmth washing across Evie’s skin turns cold, making her shiver.

Mal hasn’t given her looks like that since they lived on the Isle, when Evie was her nuisance and Mal was almost a stranger. Not Evie’s best friend. Not the girl Evie had woken up to every day for two years.

How am I supposed to wake up knowing she isn’t there? She turns her gaze from Mal’s door and stares into the flames. Doesn’t she realize how important she is?

An ache forms deep inside, in a place the warmth can’t reach. Evie turns her back on the fire with its broken promises of heat and gazes around at the cabin.

There are no decorations here. Nothing to mark the fact that today is Christmas Eve, or that the Rotten Four are spending the holiday together.

At least I can do something about that. Evie shoves her hands back into her mittens. She grabs a few tools from some drawers and a closet, and then she disappears into the early December morning, her boots crunching pathways through the snow.

Three hours later, when her friends finally crack open their doors, shivering and rubbing at their eyes, the cabin is transformed. A Christmas tree perches in the middle of the living room, its emerald pine needles a warm contrast to the oranges and reds of the fire. Holly branches skirt along the mantle and the walls. A wreath of holly and berries rests upon the door. And several crimson candles flicker along the shelves.

Evie gazes at each of her friends: at Carlos, whose mouth hangs open, his gaze flicking to each of the decorations; at Jay, who takes a stumbling step into the room, a low whistle sounding from his throat; and at Mal, who gazes back not with a biting glare, but with a glance of warmth edged with something that makes Evie’s heart sprint.

The chill she’d felt deep inside flickers into a promise of heat. “Making it count,” she whispers, holding out her hands.

Mal winks. “Nice work.”

~*~

Things change. Become more bearable.

The girls sit together on the couch, stringing holly berries and popcorn onto strands to hang around the tree. And Carlos joins Jay in the kitchen on a mission to bake their weight in sugar cookies.

Breathing in the scent of fresh pine and cinnamon, Carlos pushes a wooden spoon through the mixture that will become dough.

Jay hovers over his shoulder, his warmth a caress against Carlos’ back. “Tasty,” he drawls, his voice in Carlos’ ear.

Carlos knocks back a breath. Does he realize what he’s doing? “Should be,” he says, shifting a little to put some distance between them. Last thing we need is another fight.

A mischievous chuckle sounds from Jay’s throat. He slides his hand into the bowl and pulls up a finger of dough mixture.

Carlos holds up his hands. “Come on, man. That’s for the oven, not –”

Jay lunges and streaks the mixture along Carlos’ jaw. “Whatcha gonna do about it, buddy?”

Carlos tosses down his wooden spoon. “Fight back,” he growls and reaches for the bowl.

Jay holds it up high. “Too bad you never grew those extra inches,” he says, patting Carlos’ head.

A thrill of electricity bunches in Carlos’ stomach. It’s just like always. Jay hassling me. Me hassling back. He reaches up and traps Jay’s hand before Jay can give his head any more pats.

With Jay’s hand cupped beneath his own, a flare of warmth radiates between their skin.

Jay stops.

Stops moving.

Stops laughing.

Stops breathing.

“Jay…” Carlos murmurs.

Jay blinks and snatches his hand away. “Come on,” he says, slamming the bowl onto the counter. “Let’s finish mixing this so we can eat.“

Just like that, the chill returns. Jay won’t look at him. Won’t talk to him. And when Carlos slides up beside him to finish stirring the dough, Jay shifts away.

“Fine, Jay.” Carlos kicks out at a cabinet, making a hollow wooden sound. “Whatever you want.”

On the couch in front of the fire, Evie is a warmth curled into Mal’s side. They sit together, stringing holly berries and popcorn to decorate the tree. Mal’s finger stings from three separate pricks of the needle, but her pain is a dull whisper quieted by Evie’s touch.

Mal slides a berry onto her thread. “I still can’t believe you did all this. How long did it take?”

“A few hours.” Evie pokes her needle through a piece of popcorn. “It was worth it, though.”

“Oh?”

“Mmm.” The corners of her lips curl into the beginnings of a smile. “I’d wake up even earlier just to see that look in your eyes, M.”

The warmth of the fire washes over Mal’s face. “What look?”

Evie spells her with a glance from the corner of her eyes, which have turned molten in the firelight. “The one you’re giving me right now. The one that’s happy and soul-deep and just for me.”

They gaze at each other for several scattered beats of Mal’s heart as the crackling fire does havoc on Mal’s body heat.

Mal slips from her jacket, leaving it on the couch, and drops her gaze to her strand of popcorn-and-holly-berries. “I didn’t know I had such a look,” is the lie that slides from her tongue before she can replace it with something truthful.

Of course she knows. She knows her looks, and she knows that she has exactly three of them for Evie.

The first, she offers when they’re watching TV or sharing Auradon gossip. The look of friendship.

The second, she punished her with last night when she wouldn’t let the college thing go. The look of dragon fire.

The third, she offers in the crimson firelight when Evie’s nestled in a ball by her side and heat that can’t just be firelight is warming Mal from head-to-toe. The look of all-things-dangerous.

Evie’s gaze is slip-beneath-Mal’s-skin penetrating.

In the background, there is a clatter as the boys’ conversation becomes louder. “It was just a touch, Jay,” Carlos says, his voice edged.

“Keep it to yourself, man.” Jay slams open the oven.

But all Mal knows is the sensation of Evie’s stare. A sensation that sprinkles goose bumps along her skin. It’s so intense that Mal looks away and slides another berry onto her needle.

The needle slips. The tip pokes into Mal’s skin. “Ouch.”

Evie drops her strand of popcorn-and-berries onto her lap and slides her hand around Mal’s, kneading Mal’s injury with the tips of her fingers. “What am I going to do without you?” she whispers, so low her words might be lost to the other sounds of the day. “When I go to college and you don’t?”

Great. The college thing. Again. She tugs her hand from Evie’s and stabs the needle back into the berry. “Drop it, Evie.”

“Why?” Evie covers Mal’s needle with her hand. “We should really talk about it. You broke your prom –”

Mal tugs her hand away. “I said ‘drop it,’ Evie.”

A bang echoes from the kitchen. “Dammit, Carlos. You just ruined the dough.”

“You distracted me. I wouldn’t have dropped it if you hadn’t kept snatching your hand away every time I tried to touch the bowl.”

The argument is lost on Evie, who’s still staring at Mal. “Fine.” Her nostrils flare. “We won’t talk about it.” She jumps to her feet. “Just tell me one thing, Mal. Why did you lie to me about college?”

“That’s still talking about it, Evie!” A flare of dragon fire burns through Mal’s blood, and she jumps to her feet, too. Her strand of popcorn-and-berries falls to the floor. “And I didn’t lie!”

Evie throws out her arms. “Obviously, you did, or you’d be joining me in September.”

A ball of dough flies into the living room, smacking the branches of the Christmas tree. “What the hell are you doing, Jay?” Carlos cries.

Another bit of dough slams into the wall beside the fireplace, sliding onto a thatch of holly. “If we can’t eat it, you might as well wear it.”

Mal and Evie whip toward the sound.

The boys tumble into the living room, Carlos tugging at the bowl in Jay’s hands. The dough inside the bowl swishes this way and that. Carlos slams into the couch, and the bowl flies out of Jay’s hands. The dough soars up toward the ceiling, landing with a smack on the ground by Mal’s feet.

Mal stares at the dough. “So this is Christmas.” She jerks her gaze from the dough to the boys to the girl-with-the-power-to-make-her-blood-boil-and-her-heart-sprint. “Our very last together as the Rotten Four, and we’re throwing dough at each other and accusing each other of lies.”

Carlos blushes and stares at his feet.

Jay stares outside at the shivering pines, a muscle ticking in his jaw.

Evie stares at each of her decorations, her mouth puckered into a scowl.

Mal stomps her foot, smashing the dough beneath her boot. “What is going on, you guys?”

Carlos grits his teeth and raises his gaze to meet Mal’s. “For months, Jay’s been stealing touches with me. Until three weeks ago, when he signed onto the kingdom’s tourney league. Now, he won’t even look at me.”

Jay pushes his fists into his pockets, but his gaze remains glued to the trees.

Evie glares at a bunch of holly, where a glob of dough hangs heavy on the leaves. “You know why I’m upset, M. We were supposed to go through college together, and you didn’t even apply.”

Mal swipes the dough from the floor. “Here’s what I know,” she says, balling it in her fists. “Jay, you’ve been walking around with a swagger since you got accepted to the league.”

Jay whips his gaze to Mal, opening his mouth to argue.

Mal holds up her hand. “Don’t. You know it’s true. You’ve barely spoken a word to me and Evie since.”

Jay twists his mouth into a jagged line, and a hint of pink colors his face.

Mal tosses the dough back into the bowl, which spins in a circle on the ground. She stares at its movement. “Evie, I didn’t lie,” she whispers. “I did apply. I just didn’t get in.” The truth burns her throat, a searing brand of shame. “I couldn’t figure out what I wanted to major in, so I left it blank. Colleges like girls who know what they want.”

She cannot look at Evie.

Not even when Evie moves toward her, a soft “M…” drifting like a caress from her lips.

Mal shakes her head. “That’s what I know,” she says. “And honestly, I have no idea how to fix any of this. It’s our last Christmas together, and we’ve fallen apart.” She turns her gaze to the front door, with its promise of ushering in a solitary winter world. “And I really can’t be in this room with any of you right now.”

She steps away from her friends. She steps away from the living room and out the front door. She away steps from the warmth of the fire, leaving it behind for the cold of the winter woods.

The chill blankets her skin and leaves her numb.

~*~

Emotions war through Jay’s blood. He pushes his fisted knuckles into the seams of his jacket and steps to the window.

Mal’s standing outside at the bottom of a snowy hill, staring up at the steel-grey sky. Not even wearing a coat. A bite of guilt gnaws at his gut.

Carlos and Evie are behind him, pinning with the weight of their stares.

They have no idea what to say to me. A sigh drifts up from somewhere deep inside of him. Moment of truth. “You guys ever been afraid?”

Silence stretches between them. He can’t see their faces, but he knows his friends are giving each other looks, trying to figure out how to answer.

He’s never once admitted to being afraid, not even when they fought other gangs on the Isle. The truth hangs heavy in the air.

“Sure,” Evie says, her voice gentle with a hint of warmth. “I’m afraid now, with each of us going in different directions.”

“Exactly.” Jay turns from the window and points at her. “Before now, we knew what the future held. Classes at Auradon. Meals in the kitchens.”

“Games and comfort in our rooms.” Carlos lifts a corner of his lips, offering a half-smile.

The gesture strikes a match of heat in Jay’s chest. “Exactly,” he repeats, his voice softer now. “Everything planned out.”

Evie steps to the window. “Things can’t be that way forever, though.” She raises her hand to the windowpane, cupping the glass with her palm. “We grow up. Do our own thing. Life moves on. So do we.”

Carlos’ half-smile falls, and something hollow echoes through Jay’s heart. Without thought, he reaches for Carlos’ hand.

Carlos jerks his gaze toward Jay, arching a brow.

This time, Jay doesn’t look away. “I’ve been a jerk,” he says. “Too worried about the unknown to focus on the here-and-now.” He tucks their fingers together, the beginnings of wildfire kindled in their touch. “I’m sorry, man.”

Carlos’ smile springs back to life, full and beaming. “’Bout time you admitted it.” He knocks his shoulder against Jay’s arm.

Jay chuckles, then turns his gaze to Evie. “I’m sorry, E. To you and Mal. You’re my friends. I need you in my life.”

Evie spins from the window. “That’s a good thing. Because you’re stuck with us.”

“Swear it?”

Evie nods. “On everything wicked and rotten.”

Jay grins. “Good.” He glances back out at the December forest, where Mal has perched herself on top of a snow-crusted rock, a sketch pad open on her lap. “Someone’s gotta go talk to her.”

“I will,” Evie says.

Jay grabs Mal’s coat off the couch and hands it to Evie. “Tell her I’m sorry.”

“Of course.” Evie takes the coat and steps out of the cabin into the snow.

With a gleam in his eye, Carlos brushes Jay’s jaw with a kiss. “Nicely done,” he whispers.

His words are punctuated by a clinking sound coming from the vents, followed by a blast of heat. Jay blames it entirely for the flame warming his cheeks.

He ducks his head as a goofy grin splits his face. “Whatever.”

~*~

The snow swirls down in drifts of white, nipping at Evie’s cheeks and nose. Her breath comes out in puffs of frost. She bows her head against the cold and warms her hands beneath Mal’s leather jacket, crunching a path toward the hill behind the cabin.

Mal comes into sight, her purple hair a splash of color among so much white.

She sits on a rock beneath a towering pine tree, its branches white with snow. Her hand is a flurry of motion along her sketchpad, her pencil weightless in her fingertips. Her fingers glide upon the page, drawing lines and angles and shapes that match her surroundings.

Her shoulders are hunched, curved in to protect her from the cold. But her lips are tilted upward, her features calm and peaceful.

A hum of warmth radiates through Evie’s chest. Mal-the-Artist has emerged in the forest, a snow nymph with a pencil-in-hand, bringing the winter woods to life in a sketch. How could I have ever thought she’d be happy doing anything but this?

Even in the back-then, when Mal hung more holly around the Clubhouse, it was because she wanted to add to the decorative flair. She wanted to make it count with her own artistic touch.

Evie takes a step toward her best friend, and the snow crunches beneath her boot.

Mal glances up. Her smile teeters. “Hey.”

“Please don’t stop.” Evie’s words push together in a rush. “I like watching you draw.”

Mal’s gaze drifts to her sketch, where a few snowflakes have fallen. She brushes them away with a caress of her hand. “No, it’s okay,” she says, running her fingers along a penciled pine tree. “You were right before. We really should talk.”

“Okay.” Evie crunches a path to Mal. “I have your jacket.” Taking a seat on the frigid rock, which makes her legs ache, she slides Mal’s jacket over Mal’s shoulders. “It’s freezing out here, M. What were you thinking?”

Mal clings to the halves of her coat, tightening it around her body, as Evie’s words fill the space in the silence that follows. Words that mean so many things.

What were you thinking, sitting out here in the cold?

What were you thinking, not telling me you weren’t accepted to college?

What were you thinking, pushing me away when you could have told me the truth?

Evie slides her hand over Mal’s, warming Mal’s frigid fingers beneath her palm. “Did you really think you couldn’t tell me the truth? That I would have liked you any less?”

Mal cringes and closes her eyes. “You were so excited, E. I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

An ache pierces Evie’s heart. She slides her free hand to Mal’s cheek, smoothing her thumb along the crease where Mal’s eyes close. “You could never disappoint me. You’re M and I’m E, and that’s the way it will always be.”

Mal trembles on a breath. “Even if I never go to college?”

Evie’s thumb stills. “Look at me, M.”

Mal blinks her eyes opened, gifting Evie with the sight of a green more vibrant than the forest’s pine trees. “I tried, Evie. I really did. But…”

Evie nods at Mal’s sketchbook. “But you never really wanted college, did you? Or school. You want to spend your life creating art.”

Mal’s gaze drops to her sketchbook. The splendor of the winter forest gazes back, scripted with the strokes of a pencil. “I wanted this,” she whispers, smoothing the sketch beneath her hand. “And,” she says, gazing back up at Evie, “I wanted you.”

Their gazes meet for one frosted breath, then two, as a thrill of electricity sings through Evie’s blood.

She leans forward and touches her lips to Mal’s. “You’ve got me,” she murmurs into the kiss.

A sound half-dragon, half-fae pushes from Mal’s throat, and she cups the back of Evie’s head with her hand, deepening the kiss.

Several sprints of her heart later, Evie leans her forehead against Mal’s. “We’ll figure things out. Together.”

“Promise?”

Evie nods, tapping another kiss onto Mal’s lips. “I do.”

Mal wraps her arms around Evie, hugging her long enough to erase the chill of winter.

Lost in Mal’s touch, Evie almost doesn’t hear the crunch of snow. But it becomes louder, and someone clears their throat.

Mal and Evie glance up from their rock to discover the boys standing there, holding the ropes to two sleds apiece, four altogether.

“It’s Christmas,” Carlos says, gesturing back at the sleds.

Jay tilts his chin toward the hill. “And since there’s a hill, we thought maybe we could celebrate VK style.”

“VK style, huh?” Mal rises from the rock, sliding her sketch pad and pencil into the back pocket of her pants. “Does this mean you’re done being a jerk, Jay?”

Evie bounces to her feet. “I’m supposed to tell you that he’s sorry.”

Mal tilts her head, daring Jay with a flash of her eyes. “Are you?”

“Definitely.” Jay nods. “I was afraid.”

“You?” Mal arches an eyebrow. “Afraid?”

“Yup.” Jay puffs out his chest, as if admitting this truth has made him prouder, somehow. “And you know what? I really don’t have to be. I’ve got you guys.”

Mal’s features soften, the artist within transforming the rough angles of her expression into softer lines. “Of course you do. We’ve got each other.”

“Yeah, we do.” Carlos holds out his free hand, making a fist. “To staying together.”

Evie joins her fist with Carlos. “To staying friends.”

Jay adds his fist. “To forever and all that counts.”

Mal studies their hands, narrowing her eyes as if thinking about it.

“C’mon, M.” Evie bumps Mal’s hip with her own. “VKs forever?”

Mal rolls her eyes. “You guys drive me crazy.” She moves her hand into the circle. “But okay. Friends again. Friends forever. You know, and all that counts.” Her lips twist into a smile. “Because we’re rotten…”

“…to the core,” the trio finishes.

The Rotten Four bump fists, sealing forever with a chorus of cheers.

~*~

The stars fan out across the sky, one of them shining brighter than all the rest, as Mal takes to the top of the hill with her friends. Together, they slide into their sleds. Mal slides her hand into Evie’s. Carlos slides his hand into Jay’s. They exchange gazes, and then they release a collective whoop and slide down the hill in the Christmas snow.

“VKs forever!” Jay shouts.

“Friends forever!” Carlos echoes.

“To making it count!” Evie cries.

A feeling of weightlessness soars through Mal’s stomach. She has no idea what the future holds for any of them. Carlos hasn’t even gotten his college letters yet, and she and Evie have to decide on living arrangements. But for tonight, as the stars shine bright within the sky, they have each other. And really, that’s enough.

[newsiegirlscout]

Happy Holidays to the artist formerly known as magnificentdragon123! My sincerest for the belated Wordgirl Secret Santa; the request was for father-daughter fluff between Wordgirl and Dr. Two-Brains, so heck! Now you’re getting all of it! Hope you enjoy, and Happy New Year’s!

The charcuterie was a masterpiece. 

Gouda blended with white cheddar exquisitely, swiss paired with gruyere like peppermint with gingerbread, and the miniature cheese fountain was worth the hassle at the hardware store a thousand times over. Dr. Two-Brains stood over it, rubbing his gloved hands together in gleeful anticipation before his thoughts were interrupted by a shout from the parlor. 

“Bosssss!” 

The scientist sighed. His henchmen had insisted on doing the Christmas tree lights by themselves this year, and predictably enough, they’d gotten tangled up in them trying to sort them out. The big guy, at least, had the decency to look a bit sheepish. 

He pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, then moved to gingerly unentangle the worst of it. 

“Ah, what did I tell you guys? I have a PhD and a biological hardwire in recognizing patterns, I know you both want to bedizen the place, but you’ve gotta ask for help with the harder things.” 

The henchmen looked at each other blankly; with a hand on his shoulder, the big guy was able to step out of the snare, but as physics would have it, the weight distribution made the little one lose his balance and fall back, taking the Christmas tree with him. Two-Brains squeaked and slid under the tree, firmly pulling the other side of the Christmas lights back.

“But Boss….” the little guy said softly amidst the blinking lights, “We don’t know what bedizen means.” 

The scientist grumbled, shaking the cords off himself and grabbing hold of the tree so his henchman could get free. “Ask Wordgirl next crime. I’m a bit busy, if you hadn’t noticed.”

“Sorry, Boss.” the little one said, pulling the last of the blinking lights over his head and righting the tree, “Say, do you think she’d like the holiday cookies we made for her? Charlie an’ I worked really hard on them…” 

The henchman in question nodded shyly as they worked together to sort out the now-untangled lights. With one hand, the little one started counting. “We didn’t know what holiday she celebrated, so we got gingersnaps, gingerbread, peppermint bark, ras malai, sufganiyot, an’ balaklava!” 

Dr. Two-Brains smiled, laughed softly in the glow of the lights and the fire. 

“Aw, that’s really considerate, you two.” he said, ruffling the big one’s hair--or what hair he had, anyway, “I think she’ll really appreciate it, but remember, she’s taking a holiday now too. ‘Sides, I don’t pay you guys to be considerate. Evil thoughts only.”

The two saluted; the scientist turned to the silver garlands nearby and decided just one slice of cheese couldn’t hurt as he decorated the house. As he reached for it, the telephone’s ringtone chimed out across the parlor. Dr. Two-Brains sighed and answered it.

“Hel-lo, the doctor is in.” 

“Dr. Two-Brains?” asked a shaky, high, and distinctively know-it-all voice. The man in question dropped the telephone, then scrambled to catch it as the henchmen turned around. 

“Woah, woah, kiddo…” he said softly, “What’s goin’ on? Thought you only used that phone for emergencies...say, how’d ya’ get this number anyway?”

“It’s….” 

A long pause followed.

“A little bit of an emergency. Can I come over really quickly?”

“My door’s always open, kid. Literally, every lock we’ve ever had’s been busted inside a week.” Then, with a more sympathetic tone, “Take as much time as you need, Wordgirl, I--the henchmen would really like to see you.” 

The garage door opened slowly; Wordgirl, breaking a cocky grin in spite of her tone, for once looked at a loss for words. She floated lightly over to perch on the drawing board and ended the call. 

“I was hoping you’d say that.” she said. 

*******************************************************************************************

“Alright, alright, give her some space.” Two-Brains said sternly to his excited henchmen, “Wordgirl, what brings you here?” 

She exhaled slowly. “All the stores are closed and I haven’t slept at all and my science midterm is tomorrow and I still have so much to do and you’re the only one I could think of calling at this hour and AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!” The superheroine waved her arms emphatically, nearly falling off the board; Two-Brains stepped forward, but she caught herself in time. Flying was useful that way, but it did little for the tears beginning to well up in her eyes. Desperately, she shook her head, looked away. 

“Can I please study here? This is the only subject I’m still stuck on, but I’ll be really quiet, I promise!” 

“Wordgirl, Wordgirl, Wordgirl.” Dr. Two-Brains said, shaking his head. Her grip tightened on her bookbag, embarrassment at asking darkened her face. But wearing a goofy grin, the villain tossed her a reindeer headband and replied, “Call this place a home, let us help with whatever you need, but don’t ya’ dare be quiet!”

Wordgirl laughed, brushed the tears away with the back of her hand. 

“Well, then, Doc, you think we have enough road to get up to 88?” she giggled.

“We don’t need roads where we’re going.” he responded cheerfully. “To the kitchen, allons-y!”

*******************************************************************************************

There was a saying that all good stories began in the kitchen; Two-Brains himself certainly fit the bill, chattering absently as he melted the chocolate over the stove. 

“So…got anything in there I can help with?” he asked, gesturing to the folder spilling over with old study guides and flashcards. Wordgirl looked up, shook her head. 

“Ugh….the definitions are easy enough, but it’s all these reactive properties that are just impossible to get straight. What bonds with what, how much the force of gravity increases over an arctan….” Throwing her arms wide, she did a cartwheel in midair. 

“Do I look like someone who knows how gravity should work?” 

Two-Brains laughed. “More into the crime-fighting gig, ay?” 

She gave a short, humorless bark of laughter, kicking back and reaching for the folder. 

“Not doing so well on that, either.”

The scientist mused, pouring the first mug of hot chocolate and handing it to her. With a snap, he suddenly whipped out a blaster and fired it just past her shoulder. Lightning-fast, she dropped her mug and flew in front of it, shuddering as the blast hit her square in the chest. Behind her, the window broke, cracks spiderwebbing outwards. 

“Alright! Well, there’s a start.” he said, sipping hot cocoa, “That’s gamma radiation; you stopped it so quickly you had to take the full and centered force of it, while the impact spread out more by the time it reached that window back there. That’s a difference of around 700 joules--since it’s an electromagnetic wave, and ya’ stopped it, you’re as strong as steel. You good, kid?”

She winced. 

“You owe me a cookie.” 

“I have great news for you!” he said cheerfully, hoisting her onto his shoulders and tossing her one of the henchmen’s cookies, “More science it is, then! What’s next?”

*******************************************************************************************

Wordgirl laughed, and it was music to Two-Brains’s ears after seeing her so out-of-sorts just a few hours earlier. The good mood was contagious, and he laughed as well; the henchmen chuckled softly, gathered up some of the loose pillows from the fight and walked towards their quarters. 

“We should probably hit the hay. ‘Night, boss.” said the little one. 

“You guys learned enough about forces?” giggled the superheroine, helping absently to gather up the pillows and stack them impossibly high in her arms. They nodded; the bigger one, Two-Brains noted, with an especial air of pride. 

“Good, then you two should grasp the gravity of how far it is past your bedtime.” the older scientist said, rolling his eyes and blowing pretend, exaggerated kisses, “Mwah. Night.”

Wordgirl giggled; as soon as they were out of earshot, Dr. Two-Brains leaned in close to her. 

“Don’t tell them.” he whispered softly, pulling out a few torn pages from the inside of his labcoat, “But eh, this place is doing a special on cheesecake, I’ve been meaning to use these for some time. You hungry?” 

Halfway through a nod, she gestured to her uniform. 

“It’s okay, I can’t really….” Wordgirl sighed. “I’d love to, but I’m a bit conspicuous. I should probably be heading home.”

“What, ya’ mean like obvious or easily noticeable?” Two-Brains said, “I get that--gonna say changing into your civilian identity is out of the question too?”

She nodded. “Not to say I don’t trust you, but…”

“But I’m a top-tier criminal and not likely to change that soon.” Suddenly, a thought occurred to him; he snapped his fingers and dashed to the nearest closet. 

So now all there was to do was wait. 

Snow fell softly outside the windows; a fire flickered in the hearth, and somehow her old friend’s off-key singing had an odd quality of beauty to it. Knowing the doctor, his idea could really have been anything from take-out to a criminal plot of drastic proportions. 

Thus it could be concluded, decided Wordgirl as she drifted over to the bookshelf, that the good of Fair City asked--nay, demanded--that she wait just a few more minutes.

*******************************************************************************************

“How do I look?” said Doctor Two-Brains proudly, throwing his arms wide to display the gaudiest Hawaaiian shirt and patterned tie she had ever seen. His knee-length cargo shorts were the most aesthetically satisfying part of his ensemble, had they not been just slightly out of season for the four inches of snow. 

“Great!” chirped Wordgirl, giving a thumbs-up. He nodded approvingly, straightened his tie in the nearest mirror, and jerked his thumb towards his van. 

“No one’s going to notice ya’ when their eyes are on yours truly.” he declared, giving himself a wink, “I mean, there’s everyday handsome, and then there’s.” Doctor Two-Brains gestured to himself. The superheroine giggled, buckling her seatbelt and scanning over the list of flavors. 

“Ooh, they have strawberry…” she mused. 

“Goes well with your uniform.” he responded, giving her helmet an affectionate pat, “You sure you wouldn’t prefer red velvet, though?” 

“Decisions, decisions.” she laughed, “What are you getting?” 

“Mmm…” he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, “I’m thinking espresso.” 

“What? No! I’m locking you up just for that.”

“Tssh...I’ll have you a convert in no time.”

*******************************************************************************************

Wordgirl laughed softly as she stepped out of Dr. Two-Brain’s van into the gentle, snowy night. 

“Thank you so much, Dr. Two-Brains.” she said with a polite salute, “I still don’t see what you see in espresso cheesecake, but…” with a short, but deep sigh trailing off into a giggle, “It was really nice. Thank you.” 

“Any time, kid.” he said, shaking her hand. “Hey, I know it’s a little early, but…” 

A smile reddened her face as he lightly tossed a wrapped package to her; it hit her chest and she wrapped her arms around it, grinning as he sheepishly rubbed his neck. 

“I don’t know if you’ve read it before or anythin’, but….merry Christmas if ya’ celebrate, happy holidays if ya’ don’t.” 

A Hero’s Guide To Saving Your Kingdom. Not only had she never read it, but she’d heard of it and never been able to remember the title long enough to find it. The princes and princesses on the cover promised an exciting read; the four hundred pages or so promised a long one (or at least, an extra few seconds if she used her speedreading powers, but really, midterms took so long….). 

Just as Two-Brains’s hopefulness almost fell, she slammed into his chest with the biggest hug he’d ever gotten in….about three years or so. Stumbling back, he wrapped his arms around her, chuckling with just a hint of satisfaction. 

“Woah, kiddo, what’cha doing? You almost knocked me over!” 

“Good.” she mumbled into his shoulder, squeezing him tighter, “That’d make us even for the particle demonstration.” 

He laughed softly. “Alright, well, you better ace that exam, okay?” 

She nodded, pulling away and hugging the book to her chest. “I think it’d be tricky not to.”

“See you around, Wordgirl.”

“See you around, Doctor Two-Brains.” 

The scientist watched her leave before pulling the garage door closed behind him. 

“She never closes it behind her.” he murmured amusedly, “Y’think she’d know better, there are some serious criminals in this part a’ town.” 

With a smile, he sat back, poured himself a glass of juice, and sighed. 

Yep; he was feeling like good ol’ Stevie B. 

[teacup-crow]

The Christmas Runner

On the 12th Christmas Eve after the world ended, Molly and Carena told someone the story of the Christmas Runner. Major end of S3 spoilers, very minor spoilers for early S5. 

I spent all day in bed and this happened? Will probably go on AO3 once I polish it (and when it’s actually close to Christmas). Promise it’s wholesome!

(In my headcanon here Carena is 15, Molly is 13 and Sara is 7)

“Sam’s givin’ you how much to watch her?” Carena Skeet spluttered, towering over the younger girl, leaning her hands over her head on the brick wall of the housing block. The moon was a sharpened, thin crescent, and lights winked in the guard towers. Over in the main barn, they could faintly hear the twanging of a slightly out-of-tune guitar and some tipsy singing, suggesting the grown-ups’ Christmas Eve party was already in full swing.

Everyone said that Molly Harrison was the prettiest girl in Abel, with blonde curly hair and eyes blue enough to knock out zoms, but right now she was shifting foot-to-foot, looking more irritated than anything else.

“A loaf of crusty bread and a pot of blackcurrant jam, and… you’re not having any of it, Caz.”

“Dr Cohen only promised me a bloody book!” Carena pouted, but avoided stomping her foot. She’d about grown out of that. Nobody would dare call her pretty, but she was too, in a fiercely intimidating way. It was two months until she turned sixteen and could finally start Runner training, and she’d already begun practicing first thing every morning, tearing around the training shed when the sun had barely risen. Where Molly was soft and homely, she was angled and muscular. “You can read it if you let me have a spoonful.”

“That’s a rubbish trade and you know it! I won’t always go along with everything you tell me to do, you know, it’s not fair-“

“Oh blah blah blah, quit whinin’, let’s just get the job done before they realise they double-booked.” She dropped her hands and stalked away. Her foster dad’s old fireman jacket was too big on her, but wearing the king’s clothing added to her swagger.

“You don’t like kids,” Molly pointed out, stumbling a little behind her as she strode off to the front door.

“Kids is fine. Kids is kids. I have, like, fifteen siblings. I know what I’m doing.”

“Yes, and you don’t like any of them. And they’re all the same age as you!”

“What can I say, I’m not good at sharing.” She turned and gazed pointedly at Molly, who shrugged it off. “It doesn’t take two people to babysit a seven year old.”

“Yeah, so go away, Caz. You don’t even want a book.”

“Gotta get on Dr Myers’ and Sam’s good side if I want to be recommended for Runner, don’t I? Janine respects their opinion more than anyone else except Runner Five.”

“So go and sit on guard duty with Runner Five and earn their approval.”

“You jokin’? Five’s batshit.”

“They’re also the only reason we’re not dead, so maybe you should be a bit more respectful.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t try to tell me what to do, Molly Harrison...” Carena’s tone was affronted, teetering on nasty. Then she stopped herself. “But yeah, you’re right. Five’s batshit bonkers, but they’re awesome.”

“And scary?” Molly added.

“Yeah, if you’re a wuss.”

They’d reached the green wooden door of Maxine and Paula’s apartment, a wreath on the outside, a menorah in the window. Sara had hung paper chains all down their part of the corridor. It made both the teenagers smile for a second or two.

Carena knocked, to no reply. She tried again. 

“That’s weird,” she muttered.

“Sara, you in there?” Molly tried, peeking through the window. 

“Sara, we brought chocolate!”

This caused a patter of feet to charge towards the door. Carena grinned. “First rule of kids is lie through your teeth.”

“MOLLY!” Sara sprang through the door in a bright blur of red sweater and green trousers, and jumped into Molly’s outstretched arms. “Did you bring Galileo too?”

Years before, when Archie Jensen had lost Mildred van der Graff to an explosion, Five had managed to get their own chicken back to Abel relatively unscathed. Molly, already interested in animals even as a small child, had adopted Galileo Figaro, a now-geriatric menace with a beak that had lasted longer than anyone expected. The hen had strong memories of her dinosaur roots, and, apart from Molly, Five and Sara, would attack almost anyone who dared enter the coop.

“Galileo’s an old hen, she’s resting.”

“She went cluck-cluck-cluck over the rainbow bridge to Ed Harrison’s stomach, you mean.”

“Caz! Dad would never!” Molly looked scandalised as Carena burst out laughing at her own joke. Thankfully, it went over Sara’s head as she dropped down from Molly’s arms and stared up at Carena’s jacket in awe. Caz ruffled her mop of springy hair affectionately. She liked this kid, at least. It was very difficult not to.

“Hello, baby Sara, how’s it goin’?��

“Good, Princess Caz! I’m making a jigsaw puzzle. It’s got a million trillion pieces!”

“Sounds like an absolute riot. Tell you what, Molly can finish it with you and I’ll heat up the rations.”

Molly nodded despite herself, taking the pudgy little hand in hers and stepping into the cosy apartment. “Okay, let’s go, hopefully we have all the pieces...”

“Daddy had to remake some of the missing ones but he said you can barely tell the difference, sort of! Anyway, you said you had chocolate?”

This was still one of the oldest housing blocks in Abel, but instead of enough bunks for eight people the two rooms comfortably housed the little family of three, bathroom splitting a bedroom on one side and a family room on the other with a table and a bookshelf and warm candle-lit lamps too high for Sara to knock over on the mantelpiece. Woollen throws covered the kind of battered armchairs you sank into and artwork lined the walls. There was even a tidy kitchen corner with a kettle and a camp stove and a stack of chipped plates and mugs. It was one of Carena’s favourite places: better even than sharing a room with some of the roller girls on a rare trip to see her foster dad in London; much better than her own springy bunk in the children’s dorms, the wall behind her chequered curtain plastered in pictures and photos and plans but still not private enough to block out the whining and crying of the little ones all night. It was nice to see a place where a real family lived. When she stood in the centre of the room, she could squeeze her eyes shut and almost picture the faces of her real parents, her actual bedroom, the kitchen they’d had with a white-tiled floor. Or was it sand-coloured tiles? She wasn’t quite sure, not that she’d admit it. Whenever anyone asked, she always said she remembered the pre-zombie world perfectly.

“Caz? Are you heating up the food or...?”

“I’m getting to it!” She stomped towards the stove, where Sara’s parents had already left a few crumbling Tupperware containers of pea soup from the kitchens, and Molly had brought a bowl of eggs to hard boil if they felt snacky. Not particularly inspiring, but then food had been limited for the last week as the kitchens saved all their supplies up for Christmas Day. And none of them knew how to be fussy: Sara and Molly did not remember a time when food was plentiful, and Carena’s last remnants of pickiness had been starved out of her when the Ministry occupied Abel. She’d been nine, and her stomach hadn’t stopped rumbling for that whole terrible ten months. It ached again a little just thinking about it. She wondered if that had left her weaker, permanently damaged her chance to become a Runner or a roller-girl. As if her asthma wasn’t enough of a handicap. Well, she’d do it anyway. Nothing was going to get in her way, least of all the legacy of those who had hurt her foster father. 

“Three bowls of green soup, coming up!” She added a lick of salt, and stirred the metal pot. The ruckus from the square was louder now, almost matched by the younger girls playing with the puzzle behind her.

“I can’t tell if this is supposed to be a man’s face or a rat.”

“Daddy’s not a very good draw-er.”

“I mean… he could use some practice, to be honest. Any clue on where this piece should fit, Caz?”

Carena doled out the bowls and spoons. “Looks like a squiggle with earmuffs to me. Sam’s crap at art.”

“Don’t swear in front of Sara!”

“She’ll be fiiiine,” Carena rolled her eyes. “Lighten up, Molly.”

“Yeah, lighten up, Molly!” Sara echoed jubilantly. “Crap, crap, crap.”

“Okay, you can cut it out now. Eat your dinner.”

Molly changed the subject, sensing another mischievous outburst of swearing on the horizon. “Are you excited for Christmas, Sara?”

“Yeah! Did you hear that we’re going to have a hog roast and potatoes?! And games! And, and, Ms Marsh knitted me a hat and mittens!”

“How do you know about that?” Molly admonished. Sara immediately looked caught in the act.

“I… maybe heard her and Mama talking about it.”

“Did you ‘maybe hear’ or were you spying on your Mama?”

“I wasn’t spying! People just think kids can’t hear stuff!”

“Hey, spyin’ is a great skill, don’t knock it, Mol. Don’t worry, we won’t tell.”

“I wasn’t spying!” Sara drank down the last of her soup, licked the bowl, and pouted adorably. It was hard for the babysitters not to laugh.

“You know, I think that piece might actually be a clockwork mouse. I think it goes down at the bottom…”

They finished the jigsaw with only four missing pieces. “It’s… a big man in a red coat with a white beard! With lots of toys. I’m going to call him Mr Bob.”

“Sara, that’s Santa. Do you not know about Santa?”

“Father Christmas?” Molly tried, although she wasn’t completely confident either. Sara looked blank.

“You know my father is called Sam Yao?”

“No, baby, Santa Claus is different. He brings things to good children at Christmas.” In the back of her mind was an image of Ed in a terribly cobbled together Santa suit, a tiny Molly on his shoulders. A good memory in a flock of bad ones. It twinged in her chest.

“He’s a Runner?”

Carena sighed. “Basically. Yeah. Santa Claus is just another name for the Christmas Runner. Every Christmas Eve, he goes from township to township, leaving gifts for all of the children.”

“How does he get through the gates?”

“Well, duh, he lets the township leaders know what time he’s going to come on Rofflenet first. And he’s really fast, so he doesn’t need to worry about Raiders or zoms. He’s got a big sled drawn by nine dogs for all the presents!”

Sara’s eyes sparkled. “What are the dogs called?”

“Well, the main one is Rudolf, and he’s an, an Irish red setter. Or he wears a red jumper, like you. Something to do with red. The other ones…” she looked to Molly for assistance, and realised the blonde girl was just as enraptured. “The other ones aren’t important.”

“Caz!”

“Fine! Dasher, Dancer, Prancer… Victor?” 

Her mind drew a complete blank. Somewhere in her subconscious, a woman’s voice read the words of Twas the Night Before Christmas, but she couldn’t quite make them out. “Um… Gold, Frankincense, Myrrh and Spam?”

Molly snorted in surprise, her face contorting and shoulders shaking as she tried to hold back a peal of laughter. At least Sara seemed satisfied. “Okay, so how come I don’t hear them all?”

“He sneaks in with magic and only when you’re extremely tired so it’s, like, impossible to stay up to hear. But if you leave a sock on the end of your bed he’s guaranteed to put sommat cool in it.”

“How will he know what I like?”

Molly looked thoughtful. “Maybe you should leave him a list? But you like a lot of things.”

“And my socks are quite small.” Sara looked pensive, kicking her feet in the air to check the size of them. “You two should write lists as well!”

“I’m too old to write one-“ Carena tried, but Sara was already insistently jabbing a pencil and an old receipt at her from a scrap paper drawer in the cabinet.

“These big long lists from the olden days are perfect, we can use the back.”

Carena’s eyes flitted over the receipt. Morrisons. Mango, papaya, hummus, avocadoes. All words she didn’t recognise, foods she would never get to try, and, suddenly intimidated, she laid it down on the table. She wasn’t the strongest reader or writer at the best of times - she’d learned too late, and it was difficult with so many new things in a row. Sara sounded out the letters on her own list as she wrote, her reading already confident.

“Dear Christmas Runner. Thank you for all your hard work, and for taking so many risks to deliver presents…”

Molly glanced over at Carena with a dash of awkward concern. They’d shared a schoolroom as children, and again for the last few years, and had some of the same frustrations, although Molly struggled more with maths and numbers and the purpose and point of algebra and geometry than writing and words. “Can I write both of ours, and you do the pictures? Your drawings are really good.”

Carena nodded, and got up abruptly to wash out the pot and make some tea. Outside, the town choir had drummed up enough numbers to give a few carols a go. She cracked open the window a little to let the sound filter up. 

“I would really like some bubblegum but I know it is hard to find and my mothers don’t like it so don’t worry if you can’t find any. I also like marbles and you can fit lots of them in a sock!”

“You’re already running out of space!”

“Okay. Lots of love from Sara Myers-Cohen-Yao, kiss kiss kiss! What are you going to ask for?”

“Nicer soap,” Molly said, quite serious. “And I need a new metal bucket for chicken feed and milking. Mine is close to holes.”

“A bucket won’t fit in a sock!” Sara scoffed with childish mirth. “That’s ridiculous!”

“I don’t know, she has really big feet.” This made Sara giggle even more, and slide off the chair to look at Molly’s feet more closely.

“Ha, ha, ha,” Molly gave Carena a mock-withering stare. “What do you want, Caz? I’m doing yours now.”

Carena thought as the water began to bubble. All she really wanted was to be a Runner. To explore. To get buckets and soap and marbles and gum and make faces back in the township light up. All she wanted was her lungs and airways to do as she commanded, her muscles and heart to work with her, to let her push past exhaustion. 

“Eh. Shoelaces would be nice.” She smirked at Molly. “Or some chicken fat.”

“Make one more threat to my chicken’s life, Carena Skeet and you won’t be getting anything from the Christmas Runner!” 

“I surrender, I surrender!” Carena laughed, and poured the tea. “Anyway, shouldn’t you be in bed by now, Sara? If we’re going to get this Runner to come at all.”

“But I’m not even tired,” the small girl yawned, still on the floor with her head on the chair and cuddling one of the throws her mothers had stacked on the sideboard. 

Molly grabbed the rest of them. “Come on, we’ll build a blanket den, have our tea in there, and Caz can tell you more about the Christmas Runner.”

“Startin’ to feel like Caz does all the work around here,” Carena added, stirring in milk and honey and using the puzzle box as a makeshift tea-tray. “Go on then, lead the way.”

Five minutes later, they’d constructed a large blanket fort and, huddled together inside it, Carena began to tell them everything she remembered from the world before, embellishing the odd detail or ten.

“You’re lying, there were no flying snowmen.”

“Well, I saw a film about them!”

Eventually, Sara curled up and fell asleep, thumb in her mouth, dreaming up a jumble of tinsel and angels and dancing snowmen and turkeys.

Molly smiled, sleepy herself. “You know, you’re actually really good with kids.”

“You’re actually good at lightenin’ up.”

“Yeah! This was fun. I had a really nice evening.”

“Molly…” Carena began, and stopped. She tucked Sara’s blankets around her a little tighter. She didn’t know how to say how safe she felt, maybe for the first time since she lost her brother, warm and wanted and hopeful, surrounded by the peace she wanted so badly to fight for. “I think tomorrow is gonna be a really good day.”

The bell in the square jangled once, twice, twelve times and for once they didn’t panic. It had been years since a horde went anywhere near the gates. This was midnight.

“Merry Christmas, Caz.”

“Merry Christmas.”

***

Carena awoke under a pile of blankets, her head on the end of Sara’s bed, the sound of Dr Cohen humming in the kitchen as she fried the eggs for breakfast, and caught three bulging stockings out of the corner of her eye. A lump came to her throat as she saw the book, as promised, bound in ribbon, that she recognised even without reading the words.

The Abel Runner’s Handbook, fourth ed.

She nearly knocked the wind out of the doctors in her rush to hug them.

[jj-lynn21]

Santa’s favorite Elf Part 2:  Ch 3: Pre-production

Santa’s fav elf ch 1, Santa’s fav elf ch 2, Santa’s fav elf ch 3, Santa’s fav elf ch 4

Santa’s fav Elf Part 2 ch 1, ch 2, ch 3,  ch 4

warnings: A dash of angst

“Time for our fitting day, käraste.”  

You woke groggily to Bill kissing your bare shoulder. Turning you reached for him before flickering eyes opened to see him smiling down at you. “How long do we have?”

He kissed your nose. “Enough time to throw on some cloths. I let you sleep while I showered. Joe will bring us coffee.”

You stretched and sighed as he got up. When you came out of the restroom dressed, he was on his cellphone texting. Seconds later there was a knock on the door. It was Joe.

“A caramel macchiato for the lady and a black coffee with two sugars for the gentleman”  

You took the venti hot drink. “Just what I needed. Thank you.” Setting it down for a moment you bundled up for the walk to the car.  

Bill slides his coat on with a red hat and scarf that covers most of his face. You follow Joe to car. You look out the window quiet as you sip your coffee just thinking about being “friends.” with a man you wanted so much.

“Are you ok?” Bill put a hand on your shoulder.  

You sighed looked over at him. “Yeah, it’s just early.”

“We have an interview after our fitting.” He took your hand in his which confused you a little.

“You should have told me.” You whined. “I don’t think I’m dressed well enough for today. I’m not even wearing make-up”

“You can always grab an outfit from costuming and have the make-up department do what you want.” He added. “I think you look great as is.”  

“Thank you.” You threw him an uneasy smile.

When you get to the staging site there are vans with equipment galore and the crew are hard at work putting set pieces together. Your driver that you have figured out is also a bodyguard ushered you over to one of the buildings on the premises. He walks farther with Bill when some ladies tell you to follow them to your fitting.  

“Good morning Miss. My name is Carol.” one of the ladies said as she started measuring you. “Looks like you stayed about to same so no big costuming changes at this point. We have three wardrobe choices for you to try on today. You will get a bit of hair and makeup over with Tamera for different looks also. Then we will take some photos and show them to the director and producers. After they decide which look they like best, you and Santa will get some promo pics taken for the awaiting press. Lastly the two of you will do a few interviews together in the same PR tent you pose for photos. And that is all that is on the agenda until Monday.”

“Sounds like a full day of fun and games.” You finish your coffee. “I’m done with this. Ready to go.”

“You are going to be great.” She smiled. “if you want another coffee, water or anything else just say the word. Tamara will take you in make-up as me and Sara bring your first look out.”  

“How are you doll?” The make-up girl fusses over you. “You do, you do, you look like a doll baby. We are going to give you a porcelain complexion like you have been in this cold climate. Then rosy up these adorable apple cheeks.”

“Whatever works” You smile. “Sorry I am still a little tan.”

“No need for sorry.” She began to lighten the skin tone on your face first. “People come in with full dark tans for movies like this sometimes. I have no problem with it. You do you. I provide some of that Hollywood magic to create your character.” She rubbed the makeup down your arms next. Then yours legs. We let that sit for a half hour before we apply your rosy cheeks and a dash of eye make up for your first look. By that time, you can try on your first costume.”

“Sounds good.” you strip your coat off hanging it on the back of your seat. The heaters in the room make it warm enough. “May I get a bottled water and a bagel with cream cheese? I haven’t had breakfast yet.”

“Of course, doll.” She goes out coming back minutes later with what you asked for. “I am going to put these plastic gloves on your hands for you to pick things up without getting the makeup everywhere.” She applied the gloves. “Anything else?”

“I’m good.”  

As you ate careful not to get the makeup off your face before it dried you face timed Bill. Your phone was on a standing charger, so you didn’t have to hold it. He was in the same base porcelain color you were. Both of you waiting for it to dry.

“You were a little to tan too, I see.”

“Just a little.” he chuckled. “How are you doing. Did you see the art concept for your character? I hope you will still want to kiss me as this evil looking Santa. We are supposed to have this love that last beyond the grave or some shit like that.”

“I might have to do some heavy duty acting but I think I can pull it off.” You laughed.  

“I have to go. Getting the wig and beard glued on in stages.” Bill told you. “FaceTime again in an hour and you can see the progress.”

“Sure thing, Bill.” You wave on the video. I should be on my second look by then. I have three to try.”

“I just have this one, but it will take a while.” He waved. “Talk to you later.” He hung up and you hung up just as Tamera was coming back.  

She ran her index finger over your forehead. “All dry so we can start phase two.”

She put some basic make-up on you, and you went back to costuming. The first thing you tried was a green elf dress that looked very much like the original one you wore in the first movie with white fur trim. Cute, short and flirty. Thigh high white boots this time. Red and green fleece lined legging and green gloves with the white fur. Your scenes would be outdoors, so they wanted you to be as warm as possible. You stood for the photo with a plague with the movie title.  

The next outfit was very much like the first except it was red. It also included a short cape over your shoulders. Another picture was taken. You thought you would need a coat over each if they were chosen. Something to just keep you warmer when not filming. You filmed indoor for the last movie, so the short skirt was fine. From the script this would be all outdoor shooting mostly when the darkness hit at 2p.m. You shivered just thinking about it.  

The last outfit seemed way more reasonable for the weather in your opinion which didn’t count for much you thought. It was a long velour red dress with long sleeves with some gold designs at the bottom. It had a long red coat with fur white edging. It was held on with a thick black belt. Then a short cape that came up in a hat that matched. They added a curly blond wig, black chunky heeled boots and to top off the whole look a white mask made to look like Snowflakes around your eyes. Tamera darkened your lips in candy apple red lip stick.  

You twirled around smiling loving how it looked and felt. A truly great look for someone so in love with Santa they would do anything to have him back. You felt similar about Bill. A few pictures were taken with the plaque.  

“Back in your regular cloths until the higher ups decide which look they like better.” Carol said as her and her assistant took the costume off you.

“I really hope this one.” You beamed. “It seems it would be warm enough for in outside in cold weather.”  

“Not my call but I agree.” Carol’s assistant carefully hung the outfit. Then she took the photos printed from the digital camera in an envelope to give to the powers that be. “What would you like for lunch? We have subs in turkey, beef and hand with chips or fries. Cold pasta salad. Coffee, tea, water and soft drinks. My assistant will pick them up on her way back.”

“Pasta salad and a caramel latte, please, thank you.” You asked politely.  

As you waited on a comfy plush sofa you checked in on how Bill was doing. Dirty white long hair, beard, and mustache was drying when he answered the phone looking up at you.

“You doing okay Bill?”

“Yeah, I just have to lay back until this dries.”  

You could barely see his smile as he attempted it.

“Then I get to put on the extra tum tum and suit.”

You giggle. “Tum tum, that is so cute. I tried on a few different looks. They are showing some pix to the producers and director.”  

“Yeah, they just got here.” He scratched the corner of his ear where some of glue was dripping. “I’m an executive producer so they put an envelope on the table here. I will have to look when I can sit up. Which outfit did you like best?”

“I loved all of them but since we are shooting outside the longer dress with all the layers is the one I won’t freeze to death in.”

 “I will keep that in mind and pass it along to the others.” He glanced away from the the phone a second and then back. “Michael is coming in to check if this is dry enough. See you soon.”

“Looking forward to it.” You hang up.  

This whole process had already taken four hours. You expected to be in your costume dealing with the pr photos and interviews by now, but it would be another hour before you heard that you would get to wear the longer dress. A half hour after that you were escorted to meet Bill at the door to another building. Joe was there to watching over the situation, so people did not attempt to touch or get to close either of you.

“Just take a breath my favorite elf.” Santa (Bill) suggested. “I’ll tap your back to turn where the cameras are flashing. Smile with your eyes not your mouth. Try to keep your face relaxed.”

You nod fidgeting a little. Your eyes wide. Nervousness runs through your body. You have watched enough of these photo shoots with characters sure but being on this side of it was different. Bill took your hand and kissed your knuckles as Joe opened the door and flashes from cameras started going off.

“Don’t forget to breath.” He murmured before walking with you to your first mark.  

The camera flashes went off as multiple photographers told you to look towards them for a perfect shot. You could not look both ways. You looked up at Bill trying to breath without hyperventilating. He looked to you eyes sparkling. His pinkened lips in a small smile. You smiled back as the cameras flashed.

“Twirl for us (YN)”

Bill twirled you away from him. He moved to another mark. Some cameras followed him. A few stayed on you for separate pictures. You stood in place getting your Barings trying to keep your eyes smiling and face relaxed as Bill told you. All the cameras moved to him. You waited until he held out a hand for you to join him again. He escorted you back through the exit.  

You took a deep breath. “That was a little claustrophobic.”

“It always is.” He hugged you the best he could in his Santa suit. “Are you going to be okay with the interview part of our day? We just sit and answer some of the same questions over and over. I think only five reporters but could be more. I will be right at your side the whole time. “

“I guess after a small break I will be ready.” You walked back to the costuming building where you parted with Bill again to get your costume off.

You glanced through the clothing finding a cashmere sweater to go with the jeans you wore today. It looked better than the bulgy sweatshirt you wore. Tamara toned down your make-up for a natural camera-ready look. Bill had a lot more to deal with to get back to himself, so it took him a bit longer. You waited patiently with a Christmas chocolate chip cookie and bottled water.  

Joe opened the door. “It's time.”