#lucky stars baubles

[alanaartdream]

Some people seemed to like my idea of putting origami lucky stars into Christmas 🎄 baubles

Lucky stars is one origami craft I can remember off the top of my head (others I feel like I need a look up a book on and relearn how to do )

Had a lot of fun making these so glad people like them

[hwaightme]

Page me

(masterlist) (taglist)

🩺 pairing: paediatrician!bf!seonghwa x neurosurgeon!gn!reader 🩺 genre: fluff, doctor au, established long-term relationship, festive fic 🩺 summary: in the early hours of a shared night shift right before christmas, the present turns into a gift, and seonghwa can't be happier and more in love 🩺 wordcount: 7.8k total 🩺 warnings/tags: slightly edited, the fluff is strong, simpery is real, two doctors with heart eyes, marriage, proposals, family, hwa is yearing, woo cameo, woo+hwa banter, yeo+yunho mention, mom+kid side ocs, needles/syringes, injections, hospitals, night shifts, unconventional marshmallow toasting, a lot of love and sharing life <3 🩺 taglist: at the bottom of the fic 🩺 a/n: happy holidays and merry christmas~ the idea for this was in the drafts for ages, reignited hardcore by @starrysvn(...the cameos hehet), and it feels right for the festive season~ much love! comments, reblogs, notes all appreciated

Clean and comforting. The poster-room of an office, personalised, and yet retaining all the professional qualities necessary. The gentle swaying of the tulle that transformed the twinkling of a myriad of skyscrapers outside and a magnificent deep navy and inky black star-filled sky into a soothing haze, the ticking of a clock adorned with illustrations from the doctor’s favourite franchise. There was a unity even in the multicoloured shelves and cupboards. Stickers, kindly left behind by particularly pleased, proud and excited patients turned into permanent decorations on the sides of the otherwise strictly uniform desk, bringing relief and encouragement to its occupant. The newest additions - a small desk Christmas tree that was decorated on theme with the rest of the space, and a couple of garlands elegantly hung on the top cupboards and above the tulle served as reminders that it was, in fact, the festive season, and celebrations were only a day away. Even so, healthcare could not take a holiday, and the hospital was busier than ever.

“Hey… do you like… Lego?”

It had been long enough since the beginning of the appointment, as Doctor Park Seonghwa had noted, but the little patient sitting in front of him was still refusing to succumb to the wrath of a ‘spooky scary needle that makes him go ouchy’. Seonghwa could not blame the boy though - if there was something he never did, it was to project a child’s behaviour outwards into adult societal expectations. As a matter of fact, he rarely did that for adults too. He never saw the point, nor did he wish to impose some alternative spin on reality onto anyone who he had the pleasure of meeting, especially his patients or their relatives. As L/N Junseo crossed his arms in disapproval, Seonghwa could not help but spin a tiny fraction on his stool that he used during appointments such as this, and sneak another piece of sporadic scrutiny towards the mother. As he had assumed, there was little comfort to be offered from her side - she was sitting in a corner across the room, fanning herself and sending worried glances in the approximate direction of both the doctor and her son.

So, he had no choice left. He had to pull the most powerful weapons out of his arsenal - inspired by the many pieces that served as baubles on his desktop tree. Seonghwa was grateful that he had the foresight to not unpack the disposable syringe before checking the kid’s tolerance. Judging by the smile that spread across the boy’s face, and the confused expression gracing his mother’s, Seonghwa knew he hit the jackpot and there was potential for him to catch a break if the appointment did not run over, and if he was lucky enough, perhaps the main reason behind his rush would be free too. The simple thought inadvertently crawled into Seonghwa’s mind, and he lowered his gaze to suppress a shy smile and return to being the amiable paediatrician that he needed to be.

“Now, mister Junseo, will you wait a couple of seconds for me?” After receiving his patient’s enthusiastic nods of approval, he spun around on his stool, and rolled towards the cabinet that occupied the majority of the right wall of his office.

Stopping himself from crashing into his desk with a fast hand, he opened one of the lower doors to reveal a series of colour coded and labelled trays, each one filled to the brim with even more vibrant hues, but maintaining a strict order. Pulling the first and then the second tray from the top, the doctor inspected the contents, and decided to give the final decision to Junseo, turning to him with a grin on his face.

“Dinosaurs or spaceships?”

“Spaceships!” just as Seonghwa had thought, this question broke through the storm clouds of doubt and fear, cutting right down to Junseo’s primary interests, some of which the young doctor just so happened to share – the only difference was that the latter had to also remember that he had a job to do, and that job involved convincing, or cleverly deceiving with good intentions, a little kid into a routine shot. It was hard not to wonder what your, his life partner’s, reaction would be if you were in this room with him, considering that this environment was probably the furthest a space from your natural habitat - the operating room, could be.

“A man of good taste I see. I mean, dinosaurs are cool too, but I will let you in on a little secret… I have matching spaceship band aids,” As he pulled out the tray that contained some pre-built spaceships, with the bricks being from a younger-child-friendly set, along with stray pieces that turned the set into the perfect cognitive and sensory exercise, Seonghwa took time to explain his actions to the boy. In a way this was not too dissimilar from the preparation of instruments for surgery, so perhaps you would find joy in this interaction to the same extent as him. He shook his head lightly, reeling himself back to the matter at hand.

Sometimes, Seonghwa pondered whether too much of his budget, and, on occasion, personal finances, went towards making his office be more of a playground than what one would imagine ‘a doctor’s lair’ to be – in his mind, that was your office, one that he visited enough times to memorise. An ode to modernity, with books and documents, diagrams and an anatomically accurate model of a brain with various labels - just what one would expect of a real doctor. But both fortunately and unfortunately, this was a style that Seonghwa would not attempt to achieve in his own office. There was a mat on the floor made out of foam puzzle pieces, there was every form of toy transport he could find, animals, dolls… he swore he appeared in toy stores more regularly than in the pharmacy at this point. But the joy with which his patients’ faces lit up was more than encouraging, reminding him that he was on the right path, he was doing well, and that everything was worth it.

“NO WAY!” Junseo yelled out, excitedly kicking his feet. The paper towels that lined the bench rustled slightly, the link between the sheets being stress tested – much like the mother, who appeared to be speechless, but at least no longer faint.

Seonghwa imagined that his present conclusions and responsive actions were not too distant from how teachers felt when they saw a certain type of action be executed by a child, and then saw its origins during parent teacher conferences. The conclusion had come to his mind on its own accord but resounded loudly enough for him to send a reassuring gleam to Missus in the corner, and observe her delayed reactions as she, evidently, was battling the instinct to throttle him to the ground and save her child from danger. How wild and fascinating the generational sharing of fears and burdens was. Seonghwa turned his attention back to the star of the show, who was eagerly waiting for the eloquently advertised, and much anticipated, spaceships.

“Yes way! And I can show them to you later.” Seonghwa responded with a chuckle, setting the tray next to the boy, making him turn to the side and better expose the arm that was to receive the intramuscular injection. Even though Junseo was now fully immersed in the toy provided, he still expressed his gratitude, forcing the man to use every ounce of strength in him to not melt.

“Thank you so much Doctor Park!”

"No, thank you! Lego is my favourite, you know, but if you picked dinosaurs, you could have heard my tyrannosaurus rex impression." He could hear some shuffling outside of the room, turning into a thud as he introduced his ‘special ability’ when it came to distraction tactics. It was straining, conducting all his appointments without a nurse, since quite a number had arranged to go on holiday for Christmas, including his favourite in the form of a tall man with the brightest smile and enough energy to power the whole building - Jeong Yunho. Was it a challenge for Seonghwa? Perhaps, but he was coping. Besides, would he really want anyone here with him except a certain someone who was not even in this specialisation?

"Awh... no... but that sounds so fun I wanna hear, I wanna hear!!!" The cute boy was practically begging, giving Seonghwa his best puppy dog eyes with a turn of his head – that would not do for the doctor’s mission, however, Junseo needed to be practically in a different realm for it to work.

"Could you attach this jet engine please?" In the softest voice he could muster, Seonghwa guided attention back to the spaceships, commenting on how well Junseo was assembling them. He infinitely admired the ability that children had to disregard common practices, ignore rules and simply create. As Junseo would get older, he would undoubtedly have to succumb to standardisation, but in the meantime, he could enjoy picking a wild palette of coloured bricks, not think about astrophysics when constructing the ships, and be perfectly satisfied with what he was crafting.

"Mhm..."

Using the moment of distraction, Seonghwa turned and reached for the hand sanitiser pump on his desk, cleaning his hands. With practised motions, as he returned to his seat in front of the kid, the doctor took out the prefilled syringe out of the pocket of his white coat, peeling the decontamination seal to fish the item out. He had a small window of opportunity and needed to act fast to seize it. From the other pocket, he produced a packet with an alcohol swab, carefully tearing it, as far away from Junseo as possible so that he would not be shocked by the smell.

"Now, Junseo, could you sit a little closer to me, so... oh thank you!" The child obediently shuffled, not taking his eyes off the Lego pieces. "You might feel a little cold on your arm, but don't worry I will roar that away, okay, you with me? Ah wait, how do we make that ship the strongest in the galaxy?" breath in, breath out. Watching the child’s movements so that he would not accidentally hurt himself. Lifting the sleeve of the t-shirt the Junseo was wearing ever so slightly, Seonghwa crept towards the bench on his wheeled stool, praying to every higher power that he would be done with this appointment soon, but retaining his professionalism. It was now or never.

"Imma show you-"

"Nyaaaaaaah~"

As soon as Seonghwa started, he was done, and the syringe was long hidden behind his back as he pressed a cotton ball to the area, though Junseo could not care less, having broken into a fit of giggles over the interesting interpretation of a t-rex. No matter how exhausted he was, this was one of the things the doctor lived for – having the ability to make medicine, doctor’s visits, and hospitals just a little bit less miserable for the little ones, something of a game or an adventure, him being of the opinion that these pocket-sized humans did not deserve to be exposed to the struggles quite yet. If it was in his power, he would have changed the ‘quite yet’ to never, but that was far too utopian, and something wiped out of him in first year of medical school. So, Doctor Park simply tried his best.

"DOCTOR PARK THAT WAS NOT A ROAR!!!" Junseo proclaimed, still giggling as he clutched onto a bright green brick. Seonghwa chuckled, sliding to the left to dispose of the syringe in a biohazard bin, stretching himself out so that he could still keep holding the cotton ball. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the mother beginning to come to her senses, the ‘high alert’ mode dropping to a more manageable, generally healthy parental worry.

"Then come on, show me what you've got. I bet you have a-"

"ROOOOOOOOOAAAAAR!!!" With him being startled by what he should have expected, he could not help but throw a glance at the other adult in the room, finding her surprised. Hands clasped together, she whispered ‘goodness gracious’, and upon finding out that she had a one-man audience, gave a sheepish grin and looked down. Seonghwa was calming down from his ‘performance’, the doctor, actor, caregiver and child-friendly comedian in him began to leave his body, giving way to a straightforward happiness of a man who could see that he helped out people in need.

"Wow now that is IMPRESSIVE Mister Junseo! Ah wait, could you hold this for me?” he gestured towards the cotton ball, and once the boy complied, backed away to get some more hand sanitiser. “We are done!"

"Huh? Wait... no ouchy?" genuinely confused, the toddler asked, dropping the Lego pieces entirely and blinking in slow motion.

"We scared the ouchy away with spaceships and your awesome roar, didn't we?"

"WE DID!! WE DID!!" With the cotton forgotten, Junseo was about to hop off the bench, his hands pressed into the dark grey material he had been sitting on, but before he could Seonghwa caught him, easily picking the boy up in his arms despite the weight that it put on him. After all, patients came first, and this was always a clear sign that he was trusted – besides, the kid did not have any other ailments, so a little hug would not hurt anyone, especially not Seonghwa’s soul.

"We did! I promised you a cool band aid too so... ah hold on let me... watch your head please." With Junseo still in his arms, Doctor Park ambled towards the other side of the office, closer to where the mother was now standing, to reach into one of the shelves and retrieve the packet of what he considered to be something akin to achievement stamps. A final well done from him to the patient, for being so courageous and letting Seonghwa poke them with a needle.

The rest of the appointment went by in a blur. The boy was safely back in his mother’s arms, sporting a colourful bandaid, babbling away about spaceships, quietly repeating Seonghwa’s dinosaur impression, and emphasising for the umpteenth time that ‘the injection actually did not hurt at all’, much to the mother’s delight. She looked to be on cloud nine as she held her bundle of joy, and even though he was bouncing on her lap to the point where the doctor would assume that she was in discomfort, the woman showed no sign, and instead gleamed at him, expressing genuine gratitude.

"So sorry for all the trouble and that I could not help in any way, please accept my-"

"No need no need! Junseo is such a sweet boy, and it was all his bravery in the end. I am just doing my job." He tried to assure her, flipping through the vaccination booklet she had provided and filling out the details of the shot. While checking the date just in case, despite him having a mental countdown to Christmas with the precision down to an hour practically built into his brain, he still noted the clock on his computer, memorising the time in order to figure out when approximately you would be done with the surgery you had arranged for this evening. Maybe he would have enough time to stop by your department, and manage to catch you there to ask about what plans for celebration you two would dare have in between busy schedules. His attention was guided back to the jovial duo on the armchair, as the mother spoke once more.

"You perform miracles, Doctor Park. Really. You are truly one of a kind! Before today I was convinced that he was wired to cry at every appointment..." she lowered her voice a little, just as Junseo turned away to pick at one of his trouser pockets.

"If you are worried about him developing any phobias and the like, I can recommend some amazing medical experts who can work with you and him?" Whenever anyone voiced a concern, he took it as part of his responsibility to respond wholeheartedly, and as such, once he completed the record, offered assistance. Perhaps this was also a safe zone for him, a removal from what otherwise would inevitably make his heart melt or ache. But to no avail.

"Oh no, no, I think I found the cure right here. Really, my husband will be so impressed about this!”

Husband. Happy family. There it was. Seonghwa felt the corner of his mouth twitch as he lifted himself off his chair, shut the booklet and returned it to the mother, and wife. It was difficult to convince himself that this was not jealousy tugging at his nerves and heartstrings, as the more he pondered the image of what had to be a perfect union, the dinners, the days out in the park, the little meet ups for lunch if either partner was otherwise busy… the domesticity got to him and made him want to slam the table in frustration. So, he did the next best thing, and clasped his hands behind his back so that he would not dare act out of line.

“Is that so?” he forced out, remaining composed as he returned the mother’s bows while she ushered her son forward and stood up to head for the door. He could not help but imagine the duo walking under the lights that adorned every shop, every street and coming home to their own tree, coming together as a small family in a cosy atmosphere. Similar routines, similar time off, the space to love and to live and to enjoy being ‘one’ to the fullest. 

“I think he will want to come with us next time, to meet you, really… of course if you don't mind us scheduling check-ups with you from now on?" meet him… so Seonghwa could see the whole assembly… Really, right in the moment when his head was filled with thoughts of you, he had to be reminded of just how adorable some aspects of paediatrics could be, to the degree of malicious irritation. 

He bet that the reason why you were so relaxed about your relationship was because you were not in direct contact with families and cute kids, for the most part. The closest you came to communicating with patients was in briefing, de-briefing and maintenance of their condition pre- and post- operation. He had to see the bad and good, the downs and ups, the rollercoasters and the memorable highs over long periods of time. Some of his patients he had known for so long, they were basically his relatives, and the personifications of sunshine that would rush to greet him, nearly stumbling over tiny shoes and sometimes barely reaching his waist, or even mid-thigh, restored his faith in the universe. It was exactly because he was aware of the downsides, and still desired this closeness and this next step with you, that he was cursing time itself for not allowing him to express this hope properly. Sure, you had discussed marriage, and both of you were more than committed to one another, but no words had been said about the part where someone popped the question. Was there ever going to be ‘the right time’? Especially when both of you were at the early stages of your medical careers, and were caught adrift in the chaotic shifts, training, exams and had to sacrifice yourselves for thousands who came through the doors of the hospital.

"Ah, whatever you would prefer, Missus Hwang. It would be an honour.” He squashed his nerves for the remainder of the appointment, and peacefully parted with the two visitors to KQ Hospital, wishing them the happiest holidays and for a stable recovery from the vaccination. 

Seonghwa remained standing in the corridor, his back propping the door to the office. Closing his eyes, he listened to the opening of the elevator, and let out a breath he did not know he had been holding once Junseo’s excited, shrill voice was muted by the doors. Gears moved into action as the machine carried the mother and son away from the paediatric ward. The doctor rolled his head in an attempt to relieve at least some of the tension that had built up from the back-to-back out-patient care, the abominable late nights, and the vexatious haze that plagued him in his own life.

It was going to be a long night. And he was barely a quarter of the way through his night shift; perhaps the winter cold and the shorter days were to blame for the melancholy mood. As he straightened himself up once more, Seonghwa instinctively reached for the phone that was hidden in the pocket of his black trousers, hoping for any kind of distraction. Checking the time, messages, whether you had even seen his text about the maintenance people coming to check the plumbing next week… any sign that there was a world beyond his job. But the communication flatlined, and he resorted to simply staring at his lockscreen: a picture of the two of you during that one vacation that you had managed to book together. The one where, three days in, both of you had severe work withdrawal, but thankfully laughed it off and soothed the pain by falling asleep in each other’s arms. That was what he missed. The simple things. If there was one thing he wished for this Christmas, it was for you and him to spend it together - no one else, no pagers going off incessantly, no family members intruding on your time, not even friends. He missed you, even though you were right there. Of course, he still felt blessed to be able to embrace you almost every time you two would be floating into dreamland - be it in the morning or in the evening, aside from when shifts did not align, but he craved more, always. Maybe he was being greedy, wanting for even more of your time. Nonetheless, he hoped that his readiness to sacrifice all of his for you would, at some point, result in his most romantic dreams, akin to castles in the sky, coming true. He wished to well and truly build a life with you. Seonghwa had never thought that he would pay so much attention to labels, but something about settling down officially, being together ‘in sickness and in health’, as he had heard in the vows at his friends’ weddings, was leaving him in a state of longing, constantly, until it was a permanent buzzing in his head.

"So... Doctor Seong-nyah-" rudely tearing through his daydreams, a familiar voice startled the doctor, causing him to gasp and shove his mobile phone into his pocket with panicked haste.

"Wooyoung, don't test me, you are not my patient." Seonghwa gasped, and retorted with sudden venom, spinning to face the man who, evidently, had been loitering around in the corridor behind him for a lot longer than he would ever accept.

"But I want a sticker or a bandaid please~"

But the action only resulted in a stupor, as right there, hands in pockets, the ghost of a mischievous smile on perfectly tinted lips, was his favourite person. Doctor L/N Y/N, neurosurgeon, and definitely the one who had changed his brain wiring to short circuit every time he saw you. Before Wooyoung got any cheekier due to the lack of a response and the less than discreet gawking from Seonghwa’s end, he forced out a random commentary; anything to keep himself from going into cardiac arrest.

"You keep stealing my Disney princess ones anyways!?"

"Can't help it. Besides I've seen you snatch the toy sword so consider us even."

A light blush was threatening to coat his cheeks as he gazed at you, mesmerised by your cheerful reaction. Without a doubt you were imagining the scene, and had you been alone, would coo at ‘just how endearing’ it was. This was not the kind of ‘break between appointments’ that he was imagining, and while you were here, before him, very obviously free, Seonghwa was questioning whether this was a manifestation of luck or a curse.

"That was for safety… and… uh… hello my love.” he mumbled, while you smiled at him, and gave him a gentle wave, already anticipating that even if you were to speak, you would crack and reveal what you had been planning - a major step forward that had been plaguing your mind at almost all hours, even in rare snippets of quiet. Technically, what you had said to Seonghwa was true - it had been an operation, just of a different kind. Careful to not let the mandatory Santa hat you had tugged on your head as part of your department’s senior residents’ effort to ‘keep the spirits up’ slip, you adjusted it to be more snug, and rapidly returned your attention to your boyfriend, who was intently studying you, admiring every detail as though he had not seen each one a million times over.

"Y/N here found the dinosaur impression cute, just so you know." Stuck in a limbo between locking himself in his office and throttling Wooyoung to the ground, Seonghwa chose neither and was simply amazed at how you could remain so nonchalant.

"Were both of you… listening to the… but that is not-”

You and Wooyoung exchanged a knowing look, causing suspicion to rise in Seonghwa. He was not fond of it. Not in the slightest. There was something brewing, and that glint in your eyes was less than reassuring. What were you hiding from him? A million questions a second ran through his mind as he subjected you to scrutiny. First off, you had said that the surgery could be challenging. And yet he could not detect the slight furrowing in your brows, the slouch, the pursed lips that you normally had if you were monitoring a patient in critical condition.

"They were around the department, and I just so happen to know that you are a certified clown so..." Wooyoung began, purposefully winding the taller man up until he was ready to break the Hippocratic oath and cause harm.

"Says the person who can literally replace the fire alarm with his-"

“This is why you should follow my methods and do the whole ‘energy drink and coffee” cocktail before those ghostly long shifts, I tell you-” crossing his arms, Wooyoung appeared to be enjoying every moment he spent teasing his fellow colleague, ignoring how you were starting to get impatient, glancing down the corridor and back to the bickering friends.

“How even-”

"Well, I would more than like to consult the lovely, charming clown please, because I have a whole circus on my hands and need some help.”

That was all that was needed to regain all attention back. Seonghwa gave Wooyoung one last sidelong stare before focusing on you, attempting to figure out just what you were scheming. He knew better than to pry, however, if there was anyone in your relationship who was an expert in dissecting, be it literally or metaphorically, it would be you. That was exactly why he stood and waited with bated breath, fingertips dancing on his upper thigh. In trepidation, the young man’s mind replayed every shared moment with unfathomable clarity, leading him to wonder if this mischievous glint in your stunning orbs was further foreshadowing, much like your sudden announcement that you would be working the same hours as him today, and upon questioning passed it off as “a bit of Christmas luck”. 

“Right…” Wooyoung’s voice appeared distant, barely audible against the thrum of nervousness and lighthearted suspicion. Running a hand through his wavy, neatly parted long hair Seonghwa gave you a lopsided grin before following you down the corridor and giving his colleague an amiable wave, along with a cheerful call of “see you later”. His friend had the whole night ahead of them - much like you and Seonghwa. Except, unfortunately, you and your partner were floors, departments away. Not that far in the grand scheme of things, but far enough for Seonghwa’s heart to start hurting when he least expected it.

Just like now, despite you being within arm’s reach, the proximity reminded him of just how much of a luxury such moments were, and how, should anything go wrong, you would metaphorically evaporate. The beeping of a pager would be enough to make you or him leave, that damned device having to be strapped on and prioritised above everything else. As less and less time remained until Christmas, the probability of it going off climbed higher and higher, so every step was a risk, and every scheduled consultation or out-patient care call when Seonghwa was mandated to hand off his monitoring duties to another resident - a temporary salvation.

You were in your scrubs, and were sporting a standard issue doctor’s coat, ever so professional. Though your back was facing him, Seonghwa could easily imagine the identity card clipped to the pocket above your heart, along with the embroidered hospital name and emblem, and your department. Neurosurgery. The top of the top, an art and a science so complex that Seonghwa was in awe of you eternally. How you dedicated your life to the mystery behind a person’s eyes, and how you could heal the terrifyingly enigmatic organ with astounding success. Determined, passionate in all ways, that was what had drawn the enamoured man to you, and what had made him fall deeper and deeper and vow to stay for as long as you would allow him. Would you be fine with him tagging along, just like this? Would you be willing to walk in the same stride?

“Hwa,” turning your head, you exclaimed your boyfriend’s nickname and then turned back to scan your pass to let you both through to another corridor, “how has your day been so far, lovely?”

“It’s been good, not too bothersome. Last appointment was a vaccination - not sure how or why the literal holidays were chosen for this, but who am I to judge,” looking around, Seonghwa responded. Quickly, he caught up to you, and in a matter of moments you felt how his fingers intertwined with yours, and his palm was pressed against you, as though a mirror image. Jigsaw pieces falling into a perfect union, your hands, stilled in harmony. 

“Maybe not everyone wants to skip school,” you mused, poking fun at the times when your boyfriend did just that - at least before university and him choosing to major in medicine hit like a truck; in the blissful middle and high school days, so easy in retrospect - a fever dream. 

“I’d love to hear what the little patient would think about that one… but really, Christmas? Why would you run the risk of having side effects over Christmas?”

“That’s true… but I bet you made the appointment a really good time. In fact, from what I have heard I am sure you did,” you teased, making Seonghwa squeeze your hand and click his tongue in pretend annoyance.

“Hey, I’m trying my best here-”

“-and you are making the world a better place,” you cut him off, squeezing back and urging him on, closer and closer to your final destination. 

Seonghwa shook his head, bewildered at the sudden outburst of affection. You were normally not the kind to get too sappy at work - if anyone, it was him who would gush about the simplest things to you during a brief lunch break, while you would be nodding along with a grin on your face. You were excited about something, without a doubt. What it was, however, was beyond him, so he let you lead, while playfully questioning your behaviour.

“What’s gotten into you? Did you forget to put the plates back in the cupboard at home?” he squinted, slightly relieved when you chuckled but still left without a concrete answer:

“Can’t I praise the love of my life every once in a while?”

“You can, but-”

“-Besides, Yeosang, you know, my friend from paediatric neurosurgery, he said kids who you had treated talk about you non-stop. Maybe you should pay some of them a visit. If their treating doctors allow it, of course.”

Eyes widening, Seonghwa barely noticed you slipping away from him to grab a large bag you had stationed by a heavy exit door, and in bewilderment was concerned if he should believe your overwhelmingly kind message. All those little lives he had the honour of getting to know and trying his best to help… remembering him? It was at times like these, even the hardest days were worth it. For the present and for the future. He returned to reality only when he felt a gust of freezing cold air hit his form and goosebumps ran over his skin. Your proud, loving smile greeted him and encouraged him to walk on. When Seonghwa attempted to query your spontaneous adventurism, you waved it off - forward, only forward. Making a note of something fluffy in texture peeking out of the bag, he hoped for it to be at least a scarf; a doctor should know to not expose themselves to the risk of colds. 

You led Seonghwa to one of the many secluded areas of the hospital - forgotten by most staff, this portion of the roof was the prettiest at night, when the lights of surrounding high rises and the rest of the metropolis stretching out as far as the eye could see all glimmered like a blanket of stars laid down on the precious planet. The city, forever awake, bustling with activity. A hand brushed against his upper arm, and he turned his head to see you holding his coat that he swore he had left in the call room. Gingerly, the article was in his grasp, and yet another question was travelling for you to tackle:

“Now when did you get this? I know I did not just leave it lying around.”

“Mhm, call room. Coat hanger. By the door. I am very aware. I picked it up on the way.”

“Sounds like someone had a lot of time…” trailing off, Seonghwa put on the coat, watching as you did the same. Apparently, that was not all that was in the bag, and with each item that was revealed, his surprise grew and grew.

“Just enough to prepare a little something,” in one swift movement, you caught your boyfriend off guard with sudden Santa hat attack - nearly covering his eyes with the white fluff, previously styled hair shooting out in different directions from under the accessory, you still deemed the mission successful, and giggled, elaborating: “now, we match.”

He could not not love you. Much like the nights in December were dark and his exhales turned to steam that was to be whisked away by the wind, he was confident in the fact that he was born to love you, and only you. It was funny to think that years ago he thought of other kinds of forever, only for them to fall apart in months. Seonghwa mused about different realities, but was never afraid of losing them until inevitably happened; not because he did not care at all, but because his heart was never in the right place. Now that his heart was home, it was clear. Most of all, the clearest sign of the truth that belonged to your relationship, was the subconscious fear, continuous and blended into every note of adoration. It was in his love for you that he found what it meant to be afraid to lose. 

The young man did not want to lose these priceless moments - how you would make an elaborate plan and surprise him with it. How out of nowhere, before his very eyes was a blanket that you laid down on the roof, a portable heater that emitted a glow akin to that of a campfire, and a large wool throw that he assumed you wished to use to keep you both warm. That shine that he swore was coming from something heavenly within you as you dragged him to take a seat, your adorable cooing over him as you wrapped the two of you tight with the throw, and scooched until your body was pressed against his. On instinct, Seonghwa’s arm was around you, and he leaned in until he could smell the faint, comforting aroma of your strawberry shampoo. Staring into the heater, he imagined a gentle flame, falling into a beautiful daydream - a world where there was just you and him.

This was a long-standing fantasy of his, a picture of which he had painted for you many times while you counted stars on the ceiling of your bedroom, drifting off to sleep just before the chirping of the birds, the dawn bidding you farewell and wishing a good rest. Somewhere nowhere, in a place with no name, surrounded by no one and nothing, you two could stay for a little while and indulge in simplicity. An escape from the daily stresses, a dive into the daily bliss of being enamoured and having found one’s soulmate. In a little cottage that you two could rent out, with a little spot outside so you could pretend like you were properly camping, Seonghwa prayed for time in an earthly utopia. 

“I couldn’t find sticks, So I hope you are fireproof,” a marshmallow was held between two delicate fingers right before his eyes. A large, white cloud and a hint that you might have been listening a lot more intently than you had let on. 

“I- are we- are we about to be toasting marshmallows?”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” the doctor followed your lead, stretching out his hand to the heater, imagining the marshmallow roast away; if Seonghwa were to squint hard enough, he could almost see the colour change.

A giggle escaped you, and you huddled into him, at peace due to the safety which you always said he naturally oozed. Without fail you told him how he was a walking spring day, a blessing, a shining star. The more you said it, the more confident he became in accepting the words as truth, and then, one day when he caught you admiring him from afar while waiting for him to finish rounds, acceptance turned into a fact. By loving you, and by letting you love him, Seonghwa learned to love himself. Thoughts of fond memories prompted him to give you a gentle poke, making you lift your head in perplexion. This, however, was quickly dispelled by a the sweetest kiss, deepened by a gentle hand that found purchase on the nape of your neck.

Lips so familiar, so addicting; each time they met was the kindling of a miniature paradise. A journey through time, to end only in the future, the present turned into a miracle in which he could immerse himself, all of his senses attuned to you. The touch of your lips was the rays of a sun in May, kind and soothing, blossoming into the finest beauty and the most satisfying serenity on verdant green leaves and gorgeous flowers. The only thing he could hear was the breeze creeping across the not quite as picturesque cement and metal, and the ghost of a mumble of “I love you” as you parted for air, still close enough to share it.

Lost in your eyes, Seonghwa wished he could never be found. He was willing to endlessly draw the maze that trapped him in them, adapting it to formulate a personal infinity. Eyelashes, eyebrows, nose, cheeks, lips, every blemish and freckle and scar were all priceless to him. You, in all your personal divinity, a universe that so intently studied him, loved every part unconditionally and invited him in to do the same. A symbiosis, a system of two stars orbiting one another - a gorgeous celestial waltz was how he saw you and him. Under the night sky full of constellations, you two were still the brightest. Seonghwa’s heart was full. He ever so softly let his hand slide to the side of your face, thumb gliding slowly over the skin of your cheek. Once, twice - perpetual motion, each one marking another second in which love grew stronger, and the yearning for his dream more intense. If only he could put it into words. And yet, courage only allowed him to muster a mere two which were far too general, ambiguous:

“Thank you.”

“I am glad we could do this,” you answered, sharing in his delight. You did not need anything else, seeing past the mellow, pleasant triviality.

“I think the only downside is that now I want to do this all the time,” his hand guided your head into the crook of his neck, so you could sit side by side, looking out into the urban expanse. Silence weighed on you, until a long-awaited suggestion reached Seonghwa’s ears.

“Well… we could. At least for Christmas.” 

“As if we will be taking days off, yeah.”

“Who says we won’t?”

“I- huh?” 

You took his hands in yours, and shuffled for you to be face to face. Much to your astonishment, when it came down to the critical moment when you would start being blatantly obvious in your intentions, you were not as anxious anymore. Everything felt more than right, and the comfortable quietude resembled the globe holding its breath for you. 

“I have an idea,” your boyfriend was intrigued, but doubtful. He had hopes, sure, but he knew better than to keep them up, “so… ahem, well, for us it is standard practice to not schedule anything major on holidays, just in case, and thankfully I could… reschedule some things…”

“Uh-huh,” he nodded along, raising his eyebrow. Your hands held his more tightly on their own accord, shaking a little as you spoke.

“Well, so, yeah, you know how the head of… the head of paediatrics is a big family person right?”

“Yeah, comes with the job I suppose, and?” tongue darting over his lips, Seonghwa began to sense what you were getting at, and he swore there was not enough oxygen to sustain him, and a dizziness settled over his mind, clouding it, leaving behind only you, you, you-

“Hm… well… I think they would be more than happy to let a new family celebrate together… yeah?”

“...Yeah…yeah?”

“So what I’m saying is-”

“Will you marry me?”

“Beat me to it,” gleaming, you pulled him in, stopping a mere few millimetres away, seeking approval.

Hints of tears welling in his deep brown eyes induced your own. Pressed forehead to forehead, you memorised every tiny detail, how you felt, how Seonghwa felt, how you were both fondly mumbling ‘yes's and ‘always’s and ‘I love you’s over and over again; vows uttered at the beginning of a new chapter of a miraculous life, in perfect harmony.

“I’m sorry for the ‘no ring’ situation-”

“I’d marry you with paper rings,” Seonghwa responded at the speed of light, quoting one of the many songs that both of you loved to listen to, and would blast in the living room many times over, “how did you even plan this-”

“Don’t bash me, but Wooyoung was an accomplice-”

“Of course he was,” he flicked your nose with his and guided you into another kiss, your hat sliding away and almost falling to the ground, saved only by Seonghwa’s reflexes. Smiling against your lips, he only deepened the sensual expression of devotion, parting simply to confess,

“To think we were rehearsing the same thing but I was too scared to say it.”

“You are too precious. And I’m sorry if I’m too scary, angel,” you winked, earning an amused, airy laugh.

This could not be the furthest from how Seonghwa felt; the notion of you terrifying him was hilarious. Everything but you was the issue. You were his safe haven, his clarity. The one to whom he had already given away all his hours, be it in closeness or in his dreams both in the day and night. You were his and he was yours, and now that the one change he had been begging all the goodness in the galaxy for finally happened, he wanted to shout this from every rooftop, starting from this fated, isolated spot that must have been made for just you two. 

“No, I am just more certain that you can read minds,” he gestured to the heater, the untouched marshmallows, the stars, and finally stopped at you, alluding to what was to be your proposal, turned mutual.

“Just because I poke around brains-” you began, only to be stopped by unparalleled cuteness in the form of a scrunched up face and a tiny smirk.

“Yeah, yeah, you aren’t even a cardiologist and you stole my heart-”

“Park Seonghwa, cease the flirting, we are getting married-” playfully, you slap his shoulder.

“Oh, you only saw the beginning,” a wiggle of the eyebrows. Your very soul fluttered at the sight of his megawatt grin, and the innocent peck left on your cheek.

“...I hope so,” your wish. To cherish the many sides, colours, shades, edges, angles of your spectacular Seonghwa.

“It’s decided. I’ll hit you with all the festive pick up lines starting tomorrow.”

As you settled back into an embrace, regarding the golden glow of your inner oasis that transposed onto all, previously dark, surroundings, you unwillingly played the role of the realist.

“Ask your department head first.”

“For a blessing?”

“No, silly, to confirm your freedom.”

“Yes, Doc’,” in jest, your fiance saluted you, and you wrapped your arms tighter around his waist, brushing your jaw against his shoulder.

“Page me after."

“I will page myself across the hospital to tell you.”

“Awh, my Seonghwa Claus and my present in one,” absent-mindedly, you reached for a stubborn strand of his hair to push away, and twirled it around your digits, careful to not ruin the perfect balance of the themed hat beneath which they tried to establish their own order, threatening to disturb your elated angel. 

“My future spouse- oh I’ll be saying this so often.” 

From one day to the next, under the sun and moon, with many seasons passing by, you became the time that you seeked and previously fought against. As you looked to one another for more and more in your lives, it was destined that eventually, the idea of any other path would be simply impossible. At the end of a year came a new beginning, witnessed by the observant stars and by the long winter night.

“Me too, my love, until I can call you my husband.”

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enjoyed? please consider reblogging and leaving a comment. thank you, much love!

[msgexymunson]

Christmas With Eddie

Description: you spend your first Christmas with Eddie, and manage to make him feel the magic of the holidays again.

Warnings: Nothing really, just fluff, fem! implied reader, Xmas celebrations

A/N: Just a cute little fluff piece to celebrate your first Christmas with Eddie! Merry Christmas Everybody! If you enjoy it, please comment and reblog, it'll make my day (and it would be a lovely Xmas gift!) ❤💋❤

1.3k Words

Masterlist

Eddie has always hated the holidays. It was too cold for starters. Never having much at home, he never got a proper winter coat, and the holidays just seemed that little extra bitter without one. He remembers his middle school days; dragging his feet home in his year round jacket from good will, trying to stuff his hands as deep as he could into the worn pockets, attempting to excavate long lost warmth.

The TV adverts were torture on top of the cold. There's the perfect family, they seemed to say, mom, dad, two kids and a dog. Happily ever after. There was never an advert with some poor kid with an uncle for a dad, pinching pennies in a trailer park, living off of canned goods and food stamps.

It didn't matter when he grew, when he earned money from illegitimate means for himself. The holidays always had that sour edge to them, like an unripened orange. Bitter rind soft against his impoverished tongue. They weren't meant for him.

And then there was you. Eddie knew from the moment he met you that you were too good for him; too nice, too pure. He knew that this was a temporary thing; some sort of short-term madness that he was lucky enough to be a part of.

These thoughts invaded his mind when he caught up to you. He couldn't help but chuckle in the middle of the mall, eyes sparkling like the inside of a Christmas ornament. You are giggling obscenely, turning over every single snow globe you could find. There were a lot.

"Eddie, look! There's so many!" You giggle and bounce on the spot, unable to contain yourself.

"Yeah I see baby, having fun?"

Your eyes flicker back to his, pure sugar plum fairy dreams rattling around your skull.

Eddie feels a fire reigniting in his chest; a longing he hasn't felt since his mother was alive.

Failing to notice, the whites of your eyes reflect coloured fairy lights, enchanted with magic and love.

"Look at the grotto Eddie!! Oh my God, it's perfect!" You point, magic in the air expelling through your excited fervour.

Eddie laughs, following your finger. Excited children gather at the edge of the grotto, lining up to see Santa Claus.

"Look! It's so cute!" You beam, reviewing the line of wide eyed youngsters in your wake.

"You think they'd let me in?" You tilt your head to the side, pondering.

"I think you might be a little big princess." Eddie laughs, rubbing your arm in consolation.

"Hmm. No fair. I wanna see Santa."

"Well, how's about we go home and you sit on my lap instead?" Eddie smirks, tilting your chin up to meet him. You grin right back, arms thrown around his neck, pulling him in for a sweet kiss.

********************

It's Christmas Eve, and Eddie's pulling up to the trailer, expecting it to be dark and cold, since Wayne liked to pull extra hours for double pay at the plant; but to his surprise there are coloured lights in the windows. Intrigued, he walks into the living room, and sees you bouncing on your heels, in a little elf dress and hat, beaming like the rays of the sun.

Eddie and Wayne had a Christmas tree, of sorts. Just some little thing sparsely covered in cheap baubles and a few homemade decorations from when Eddie was a kid. It was still up, and the wonky stars and macaroni angel were still on it, but they had been joined by some new ornaments. Plus there was tinsel. A lot of tinsel. It surrounded the TV and the door frame, as well as hanging from the ceiling. Coloured bulbs shone everywhere, refracting the glitter, making Eddie feel like he was in the inside of a disco ball.

"Princess, it looks like Christmas threw up in here." He laughs. Eddie's stunned to say the least. No ones made the trailer look like this before. No ones cared enough.

"I know right! I asked your uncle and he said 'go ham sweetheart,'" you say back at Eddie, putting on your Wayne impression, complete with gruff voice and frowny face. Eddie chuckles. It's pretty spot on.

"You didn't have to do this you know."

"Oh I know. I just, wanted you to feel special. Plus I thought we could do gifts tonight, if you're ready?"

"Yeah if you want," Eddie flushes. "They aren't very expensive or anything."

You frown at him, eyes glassy. "Baby, it doesn't matter what they cost, they're from you. I know I'll love them."

Eddie's heart swells at your words. He wonders what you see in him, how he could have possibly gotten this lucky to call you his girlfriend. It's like everything you touch is pure magic.

He leads you to his bedroom and barks out a laugh when he gets there. You had been in here too, but the fairy lights around his desk and bed were red, and you'd managed to scrounge some black tinsel from somewhere.

"Princess I love it. Fuckin metal."

"Yeah, I thought this was more you."

Reaching to the side of the bed, you pull out a gift bag.

"Here you go baby. Merry Christmas!"

Eddie rips the bag open unceremoniously, tearing at the tissue paper inside. Out flops a matt black jewellery box. He flips it open. Inside is a silver ring; a skull, but the top of the skull turns to silver flames. Eddie is shocked.

"Sweetheart, it's too much, I-"

You wave your arms, "nope, nope. You deserve it. Just accept it. I wanted to give it to you. There's something else, look in the tissue paper."

Eddie, already reeling from the gift of the ring, looks inside the wrapping to discover another paper wrapped present. He tears it open, revealing a beautiful dice set. There's a red, dragon like eye set in the middle of each one.

"I thought- well, it was kinda like the eye of Sauron, kinda fitting for a DM, you know? All seeing?" Nerves rack your voice.

"Sweetheart, they are perfect. You're perfect." He reaches out to envelop the back of your head with his large palm, pulling you in for a soft kiss.

Eddie doesn't know how to tell you you've turned his heart inside out, and teared all his barriers down as easily as confetti.

"Here's yours princess. Sorry, I'm not great at wrapping." He thrusts a lumpy parcel into your hands, hastily added bow sitting lopsided on the top.

You rip the paper carefully to reveal the perfume you and Eddie both loved that time you visited the Mall together and nearly got thrown out by security. You giggle at the memory.

Immediately opening the box, you spray the scent on and inhale deeply.

"Oh I love it Eddie, thank you!" You peck him on the lips.

"There's, a couple more." He gestures to the parcel, cheeks flushing red.

You investigate further, and discover a mix tape, as well as an envelope. Curiously, you unseal it and look inside. It's a painted picture of what looks like your D & D character. A beautiful elven ranger, all leather and fur, with a gorgeous bow, a quiver on her back and a strength in her eye.

"Oh baby, I cant even- I'm so speechless. Its incredible! Thank you!" You throw your arms nearly violently around his neck, pushing him flat on his back.

"Thank you so much Eddie." You kiss his nose, and meet his eyes.

"No, thank you." Eddie's eyes are full with love.

Eddie has always hated the holidays. He is currently struggling to remember why. Eddie loves the holidays, now that he's with you.

This is just a gift to some lovely people. I hope you enjoy it. Happy Holidays!

@eddiesprincess86 @munson-blurbs @eddiemunsonfuxks @onehotgreasymechanic @zestychili @eddiemunsons-missingnipple @indouloureux @lunatictardis @joejoequinnquinn @bowerquinn @greenishghostey

[pixieprince]

Heyyy, so... I heard a bunch of the other squad bosses were making accounts here, and I thought, "That. Is. SO. UNFAIR." Like, I thought we agreed we weren't ever gonna go anywhere without all the others!! So of course I had to join in, hehehe! Hope you guys didn't get too used to blogging without me, cuz...

Team Star's Ortega has arrived~!!!

Oh, yeah! Everybody, check out my adorable team!

Pretty great, right? I know, I know, feel free to stick around a sec to marvel at just how awesome they are~

Almost forgot! I got some other pokemon, too. Bauble the Iron Bundle, Lancelot the Furfrou, and uh, a Milcery egg waiting to hatch... Preeetty much the best little guys in the region.

If you want to see them in person, Ruchbah Squad Base is always open to bright-eyed folks ready to train. We've got the STC program, and if you're lucky, you might catch me done with my classes and ready to take challenges... Just don't get too salty when me and the team blow you away, hehehe!

I think that's about it. So, uh, hasta la vistar~☆ and all that...

[camillafanfiction]

Christmas lights

Up above candles on air flicker Oh, they flicker, and they flow And I'm up here holding onto All those chandeliers of hope And like some drunken Elvis singing I go singing out of tune Singing how I always loved you, darling And I always will

Oh, when you're still waiting for the snow to fall It doesn't really feel like Christmas at all Still waiting for the snow to fall It doesn't really feel like Christmas at all

⁓ Coldplay

14.12.1973, London

The festive baubles glittered and glimmered as couples danced and friends raised their glasses while the DJ played one Christmas hit after another. This year’s Christmas hit “Merry Xmas” by Slade had already been played more than once but nobody seemed to be sick of it as of now. This was one of the most glamorous Christmas parties of the season and everybody had dressed to impress. Camilla didn’t make an exception, she looked fabulous in a dark green sequined dress with a low neckline and shimmered wonderfully as she swirled on the dance floor and moved her body to the rhythm of the music. Andrew had very much looked like a proud husband when the couple had arrived but as the clock hand moved past midnight he couldn’t be seen anymore. At least not by Camilla, but she appeared to be perfectly happy. As usual, she was the life of the party and didn’t need to worry about company or a dance partner. Friends and socialites had rallied around her and people threw their heads back in laughter as she cracked jokes and made naughty remarks. As usual, she was one of the stars of the season, and rightly so.

Charles, however, had seen Andrew in the arms of another busty blonde about half an hour ago, before they had disappeared out of his sight as well. The venue was crowded, but he had kept eagle eyes on both, Camilla, and Andrew. He had tried to concentrate on his dance partners, but he had ignored all of the flirting attempts as his eyes had been stuck. Stuck on her. The only lady he was interested in. Still.

But they hadn’t spoken a word tonight, they hadn’t even greeted each other, there just hadn’t been any opportunity – Charles wasn’t even sure she had noticed his attendance, but his arrival usually meant lots of ‘ahs’ and ‘ohs’, so she probably had… Maybe it was best as it would cause too much heart-pain and would be too awkward anyway, but Charles was still hoping for at least one little opportunity to say “hi!”. It would be an early Christmas present as they hadn’t spoken since Anne’s wedding to Mark on his 25th birthday, exactly one months ago. What a dreadful day it had been, Charles sighed, what a dreadful year actually.

Camilla’s hair fell in short, soft waves, framing her beautiful face. She looked simply perfect from head to toe and, once again, Charles couldn’t understand how Andrew could cheat on someone like Camilla. They weren’t even married for six months. Andrew had the freaking audacity to get lucky enough to marry Camilla and not stopping his philandering. What the hell was wrong with this man?! He just couldn’t bear thinking about it. If he spent just one other thought on Andrew, he’d go mad.

After another endless 20 minutes of upbeat Christmas songs, he finally spotted Camilla walking over to one of the waiters with a silly Father Christmas hat on, probably asking for her signature drink, a gin tonic with a slice of lemon. This was the moment Charles realized he was in a desperate need for a drink, too, excused himself from the girl whose name he’d already forgotten again and hustled to the same waiter, slowing down when he came closer.

Camilla was taken by surprise, Charles could see it the second their eyes met, and she bobbed down in a curtsey, lowering her eyes. “Hello, Your Royal Highness,” she said formally, feeling slightly ridiculous by the formality of the situation.

“Hello you,” Charles replied way more intimate and moved slightly forward to place a soft kiss on both her cheeks. “Nice to see you again.”

In fact, it was much more than “nice” to see her again, to inhale her smell even in that crowded room, to feel the warmth of her soft hand, the tickle of her cheeky curls… Charles knew he shouldn’t feel that way about another man’s wife, but he couldn’t help it. This time last year she had still been his…

“Very nice indeed.” Camilla almost looked shy and blushed but found her usual confident self again within the blink of an eye. “I seem to have lost my husband about two hours ago,” she tried to joke and ignored the queasiness in the pit of her stomach. Five months into her marriage she had realized that being married hadn’t really changed Andrew and that, though they were actually experiencing wedded bliss, he still couldn’t keep his eyes and, unfortunately, hands off other women.

For a moment, Charles considered telling her that he’d seen her disappearing with the blonde beauty, but then decided against it as he didn’t want to ruin her Christmas or, even worse, hurt her. Instead, he opted to awkwardly compliment her, kneading his hands, and resisting the urge to touch her again. “You look wonderful tonight.”

Camilla flashed him a smile, murmuring “Thank you!”, and in a rush of intimacy pushed him over to one of the tables in the corner where it was a bit quieter. Unfortunately, it was before either of them realised that they had ended up in the lover’s lane with couples around them passionately snogging and even more. “Oh my God!”, Camilla giggled, looking around, well noticing that Charles’ face had turned red. “I seem to have for-“

“Kiss me!” Charles suddenly declared and Camilla wasn’t sure if she’d understood him correctly. However, before she was able to give him an asking or indignant glance, she felt soft lips on hers, just for a millisecond, so quick she couldn’t be sure it had been reality or a just a wild dream, a vision of what her most inner self was secretly wishing for.

It must have been the gin, Camilla decided. Why on earth should she wish to kiss her ex-beau?! She was happily married to the man she had always wanted to marry, and they had loads of fun trying to make a baby at every given opportunity. “Would you like to dance?”, Charles asked innocently and grabbed her arm to push her to the dance floor where people were shaking their legs to the sound of “I wish it could be Christmas everyday” by Wizzard, another top 10 hit that, for Charles’ taste, had been played more than enough tonight. But it didn’t matter, he had Camilla in his arms and swirled her around, he had kissed her, only a millisecond and so quick she hadn’t grasped it, but he had tasted her lips and they had felt as soft as last year. He would later regret it, he already knew, he would die of heartache and the pain of missing her even more than before. He would spend Christmas just as depressed as always and count the hours till he could be back onboard that bloody ship again that would take him to shores far away from her, but not the love for her he carried in his heart and couldn’t let go. It didn’t particularly help that the DJ now opted for “I Love You Love Me Love” by Garry Glitter, who sang of a couple whose love had won against all odds. Charles tried not to listen to the lyrics but solely focus on the music instead, but having Camilla’s body so close brought back memories of times when he thought he might be able to call her his wife one day. Maybe if he’d been brave enough to ask her last year, on his 24th birthday maybe… But who on earth married aged 24 in this time and age, especially as a prince?! There was no use in dwelling in the past, Charles knew, but it hurt so very much.

“In the mood for another drink?”, Camilla asked when she found they were dancing a bit too familiar and intimate when a slow song started to play.

Charles tried to hide his disappointment, but knew she was right, so he nodded. “Okay.”

“Martini, Sir?”, she winked and added “Shaken, not stirred?” That made him laugh with his eyes, Camilla noticed relieved. She didn’t want to hurt him, this had never been her intention, but she’d made the right decision for herself with marrying Andrew, hadn’t she? Charles had been a fling, Andrew was her true love, the man she was destined to be with. Two or three times when Andrew had come home late on a Friday evening and had smelt of another women’s perfume, she’d caught herself thinking that this wouldn’t have happened with Charles, that she’d be more appreciated… but she’d made the right decision, she had snatched her fetching soldier, and she was so excited for her first Christmas as a wife. She’d already planned everything from the dinner to the music to the decorations. It would simply be perfect…

His hair a bit too accurate, Andrew suddenly appeared behind Charles, a bright grin upon his face. “Hello poppet,” he greeted his wife, placing a fierce kiss on her mouth before greeting Charles with a small bow of his head. “Nice to see you, Sir. I hope my wife hasn’t bothered you too much with talking about her plans for Christmas all night…”

“Not at all.”, Charles stated, smiling at Camilla, and giving Andrew a stern look.

“Well… good…” Andrew commented and casually took a huge sip out of his whiskey glass, emptying it and putting it on the next bar table. “C’mon, poppet, let’s rock the dance floor,” he declared then, wrapping his strong arms around her waist and winking at her.

Camilla gave Charles an apologetic glance, detached herself from her husband for a moment and placed swift kisses on both of Charles’ cheeks. “I’ll see you… Happy Christmas!”, she said before being drawn away by her husband onto the dance floor.

For a few moments Charles masochistically watched them kissing and dancing like lovers (or newly married couples) do before emptying his glass with one sip as well, cursing the day he was born. Or rather the day Andrew had been born, he wasn’t sure yet. Without taking another look at Camilla and her husband or anyone else again, Charles left the party, knowing he would live from the few moments he’d had with her today till the next time he’d see her again.

[thethreebroomsticksficfest]

Unwelcome

By: @floreatcastellumposts​​

Prompt(s): Frost & First Christmas without [Character]​

Look alive my friends because Floreatcastellum has secured us an invite to the Potter family’s Christmas dinner! ✨Read all about their festivities – which may or may not include a dash of angst and some unexpected guests – right here or on AO3! _________________________________________

The Christmas tree was decorated in the same way it was every year, down to the last bauble. Aunt Petunia had a very strict colour scheme of white and blue, and at some point or another she had apparently found the ideal position for each and every ornament, for rather than risk changing it she simply wrapped the plastic tree in clingfilm for storage in the attic 362 days of the year.

Harry, eight years old and now well used to the Christmas routine, stared vaguely at the frosty tree, his eyes focused on the only new addition; a clumsy clay ornament. It was an unidentifiable splodge of glitter and a smear of paint, Dudley’s efforts of less than five minutes in art at school before they had broken up for the Christmas holidays. Harry had spent the whole lesson on his, making the star of Bethlehem, yellow paint with gold glitter. He had no idea what had happened to it, for he had not seen it since he had brought it home.

‘Bed,’ said Aunt Petunia briskly.

Harry huffed. ‘Can’t I stay up later to-?’

‘No,’ she said curtly. ‘Come on - last chance to impress Father Christmas.’

‘Father Christmas isn’t real,’ he said flatly.

Aunt Petunia made a hissing noise not unlike one of Mrs Figg’s cats. ‘Don’t say things like that in front of Dudders.’

Harry glanced over to the sofa, where Dudley was sitting, staring slack-jawed and staring at the telly. He clearly hadn’t heard. ‘Or what?’ he asked. ‘I’ll get something worse than coal?’

She grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and heaved him up. ‘You’re lucky to have a roof over your head!’ she reminded him, and dragged him to his cupboard. As she pushed him in, she seemed to change her mind, and pulled him back, bent low so her face was inches from his own. ‘Don’t you dare speak to your aunt Marge like that tomorrow.’

‘She’s not my-’

‘I mean it! Do not spoil our family Christmas.’

With that, he was shoved into his cupboard, where thankfully she could not see him roll his eyes. That night, he stared at the thin line of light that acted as a halo around his cupboard door, where someone had left the hallway light on, and dreaded the next day.

***

Several years later, Harry was in full force in the kitchen. A knife was speedily chopping veg beside him, while a wooden spoon stirred a saucepan vigorously. He, a tea towel slung over his shoulder and an expression of mild stress over his face, was checking the large turkey in the oven. Despite the sound of the radio playing Christmas music, and the clattering of Ginny in the larder searching for more garlic, he heard the sound of a lid being lifted off a large ceramic pot he knew held the pigs in blankets.

‘Don’t eat those!’ he called over his shoulder.

‘Why not? It’s Christmas.’

‘You know wh- put them down!’

He heard James huff, but replace the lid. Lily’s voice, belting along to the Christmas music, passed through the room as Harry ladeled oil over the turkey. ‘Am I going to have-?’ he heard her interrupt herself.

‘Yes, you’ve got a nut roast,’ he called back, pushing the turkey back in.

‘Next year you should all consider refusing to participate in the needless slaughter of millions of birds-’

‘Harry, there’s absolutely none in here,’ said Ginny, sticking her head out of the larder door. ‘Are you sure you got some?’

‘Yeah, definitely - a whole braid. I was with Ron, he made a crap joke about vampires.’

‘Oh, are you looking for the garlic?’ said James. Both Harry and Ginny turned to stare at him. ‘Yeah, it’s my room.’

‘Why?’

‘Dora was playing with it.’

‘Yesterday?’

‘Yeah. I was a vampire. She was hunting me down.’

‘And it’s been in your room since then?’

He shrugged and nodded. Ginny gave a great sigh, held up her wand and summoned it. It zoomed into the kitchen and she caught it with the unerring skill of a chaser, then started speedily peeling a bulb.

‘Right, that’s that mystery solved,’ said Harry. ‘Next job - could someone nip into the garden and get some sage?’

‘On it,’ called James, heading speedily to the back door.

‘When’s it going to be ready?’ asked Lily. ‘I’m starving.’

‘I don’t know - soon,’ lied Harry. ‘Why don’t you set the table?’

‘I have, and I put paper chains up.’

Harry could easily imagine the web of paper chains he was sure would greet him in the dining room. He gave a non-committal hum and turned back to the oven, causing his glasses to fog over.

‘I thought you and Mum said Christmas dinner would be at twelve.’

‘Yes, well,’ said Ginny breezily. ‘Harry, how’s it looking?’

‘Still pink in the middle.’

‘Right, well bring it out anyway, I’ll add the garlic and then we can maybe add a charm or two to hurry things along, I reckon that’d be-’

‘Hello!’ James called, as he returned from the garden. ‘Look who I found skulking by the gate.’

Harry turned round from the stove. There, in his doorway, was Draco Malfoy, looking as uncomfortable as he felt. He wished very much that he was not wearing an apron covered in flour, or at that very least that his glasses had fully defogged from the heat of the oven.

‘Oh…’ said Ginny. ‘Hello.’

‘I came to pick up Scorpius,’ said Malfoy stiffly. He looked astoundingly out of place in their kitchen; Harry vaguely wondered if he had ever come into a house through the back door in his life. His black velvet robes cast a rather sombre atmosphere even with the radio blaring out A Christmas Cauldron For You and Me.

‘They’re out on a walk,’ she said apologetically. ‘I’m sure they’ll be back soon - but - I’m sorry - I thought we said he was staying for Christmas dinner and then-?’

‘I was under the impression you’d be finished by now,’ said Malfoy. ‘You said you’d be sitting to eat at midday.’

‘Ah, well, yes, that was always ambitious.’

‘It is now nearly three,’ he said pointedly.

‘Dad got his timings wrong,’ said James helpfully. ‘He’s trying to give us all food poisoning.’

Harry cleared his throat. ‘James, why don’t you go and find Al and Scorpius?’

‘They could be anywhere.’

‘You’re an auror, I’m sure you can find them.’ He hoped that his tone struck the right balance between irritation and politeness in front of their guest, but judging from James’s delighted grin, it hadn’t. Nevertheless, he chucked a sprig of sage on the kitchen island, and bounded back outside.

Silence fell on the kitchen. Lily looked between her parents and Draco Malfoy. ‘I’m going to… go and do that thing,’ she said lamely, and then she too, swiftly left the room. Harry would have laughed if he hadn’t felt so uncomfortable.

‘Can I get you a drink?’ he asked Malfoy.

Malfoy’s lips parted, but he said nothing, just looked slowly over his shoulder.

‘I think they’ll be a little while,’ Ginny prompted.

‘I… yes, then, thank you.’

‘Wine? Beer? Tea?’ When Malfoy continued to awkwardly say nothing, Harry offered, ‘something stronger?’

‘You don’t have any brandy, by any chance?’

‘We do,’ said Harry. ‘Erm…’ He glanced at the kitchen table, which was heaped with bowls of vegetable peelings, crumpled up Christmas wrapping, and a tin of chocolate from which James had been grazing all day. ‘Why don’t you take a seat in the dining room? It’s just through there. I’ll bring you the drink.’

‘Yes,’ said Malfoy stiffly. ‘All right.’

They parted ways, Malfoy to the door that led to the hallway, from which the dining room was opposite, Harry into the living room to their drinks cabinet in the corner. Luckily he had bought brandy purely for the purposes of setting the Christmas pudding on fire, so he opened up a new bottle and poured what he guessed was a normal measure. A vivid memory hit him suddenly, of Aunt Marge smacking her lips over a Christmas brandy, swirling it appreciatively. It left him feeling suddenly cold, though the fire was crackling merrily in their snug room.

He pushed it down, and took the drink back through to the kitchen, where he held it out to Ginny. She looked at it, then back up at him with a confused shrug. ‘What?’ she whispered.

‘Can you take it through to him?’ he whispered back.

‘Erm… no?’

‘Why not?’

‘Because then I’ll have to sit in there with him?’

He looked at her pleadingly. ‘I can’t go and sit in there with him, we hate each other.’

She closed her eyes and nodded with faux-understanding. ‘You’re right,’ she whispered. ‘I’m sorry, I forgot how we’re best friends. Simply adore each other. Borders on an emotional affair sometimes.’

‘There’s less history between you two than us,’ he implored.

‘By about this much,’ she said, pinching the air. ‘You were the one who offered him a drink-’

‘Look, all right, let’s-’ He leaned quickly and placed the glass of brandy on the crowded kitchen island, and then held out his fist to motion for a game of rock paper scissors. Ginny won. ‘Best out of three,’ he whispered hurriedly. Ginny nodded, and then won again. Harry sighed his groan. ‘Best out of-’

‘No,’ she said dangerously, holding out her finger in warning.

‘Fine,’ he muttered irritably, and he poured himself a generous glass of red wine before taking it and the brandy through.

In the dining room, Malfoy was sat on one of the chairs Ginny had decorated with giant Santa hats over the backs, at the table decorated with bright baubles stuck together to act as candle holders, beneath a canopy of paper chains, all clashing colours. The fairy lights strung around the picture rail and mirror were flashing rapidly so that Malfoy’s face was lit in red, blue, green and yellow within seconds. He did not, Harry noted, seem very impressed with their Christmas decor. His expression was that of someone trying to hold back revulsion. No doubt Malfoy manor was a little more elegant and co-ordinated in these matters. Perhaps, he thought viciously, with little glittery dark mark ornaments on the tree.

Harry sat on the other side of the table to Malfoy, as far away as he felt was socially acceptable. Another vivid memory struck him as he slid Malfoy’s drink over to him, of Snape and Sirius, sitting in the basement kitchen of Grimmauld Place, looking away from one another.

‘Thank you,’ said Malfoy, taking the brandy.

‘No problem,’ said Harry. ‘My apologies for running behind - years of Christmases where the children get you up at the crack of dawn and then all of a sudden they’re teenagers and everyone ends up sleeping off Christmas Eve drinks.’

‘I see,’ said Malfoy.

There was a long silence. ‘Then Ginny and I were having problems with the cooking,’ Harry continued, to fill it. ‘Turns out the oven wasn’t actually on for a good hour, and then we couldn’t find the garlic and - well it’s a bigger turkey than I realised.’

‘Right,’ said Malfoy. He looked around the table, at the pristine plates and the un-pulled crackers. ‘So you haven’t eaten at all?’

‘No,’ said Harry, who thought that had been obvious.

‘You still have a tea towel on your shoulder,’ said Malfoy.

Harry snatched it off, and smoothed down his floury apron. ‘All part of the… look,’ he muttered, his cheeks hot.

‘Diligent househusband?’ said Malfoy lightly.

‘Something wrong with that?’

‘Not at all.’

‘Glad we’re agreed. But you know that I do in fact work for a living. I think your family have seen me in a professional capacity.’

‘Well, my parents have, certainly, thank you for bringing that up,’ said Malfoy, the edge in his voice as sharp as Harry felt he probably deserved for the jibe. He could not bring himself to feign an apology, however, so simply let the silence continue for some time, looking down at the dark red wine in his glass. At last, Malfoy cleared his throat. ‘If… if you all still need to eat I can go - Scorpius and Al can floo back later, once you’re all done.’

Yep, Harry wanted to say. Good idea, you do that, bye.

‘Please don’t feel you need to do that,’ he said politely instead. ‘We agreed the boys would spend the morning and lunch here, and that they’d go to you for the evening and tomorrow, we’ve taken up too much of your time with your son as it is.’

Malfoy nodded, still clearly irritated.

‘And - once they’re back,’ said Harry reluctantly, ‘we can see if they’d prefer to eat with us or take some food back to yours. I expect you’ve already eaten.’

‘Of course,’ said Malfoy. ‘Is it,’ he checked his watch, ‘gone three now.’

Harry bit back a sarcastic retort by sipping from his wine, and falling back into thick silence. By the fire, the enchanted nutcracker soldier burst into a merry tune and began dancing enthusiastically, as it was charmed to do every few minutes. Both men ignored it.

‘Just so you know,’ said Malfoy eventually. ‘I wasn’t, er… skulking by the gate.’

‘Oh, no I’m sure you weren’t-’

‘Your son came out just as I arrived and I was checking my watch-’

‘Please ignore his comment, he just likes to wind people up-’

‘So I’ve heard.’

‘He’s not doing it to be mean,’ said Harry defensively.

‘I’m sure, not what I meant to imply,’ said Malfoy swiftly.

‘He just likes a laugh.’

‘Yes.’ Malfoy cleared his throat. ‘So does my son.’

‘He does, yes,’ agreed Harry. ‘Very confident, charming…’ Once again, thought Harry, he deserved another Order of Merlin for not adding ‘unlike you’. Malfoy simply nodded in response, and they both drank from their glasses far longer than necessary.

‘Wow, it’s so loud in here,’ said James, as he entered the room a painfully long ten minutes of silence later. For maximum effect, he leant back and grimaced as though he had walked into a heavy metal concert. ‘Don’t you two ever shut up?’

Both Harry and Malfoy stared at him. This did not seem to phase James at all; he called over his shoulder to the kitchen. ‘Hurry up, you two!’

Moments later, Al and Scorpius walked in, stopped dead at the sight of Harry and Malfoy, and burst into fits of laughter.

‘What are you doing here?’ Scorpius asked his father.

‘Are you both having a nice time?’ asked Al. ‘How long have you both been in here?’

‘All right…’ said Harry wearily. Scorpius was actually wiping at his eyes as he spluttered through his laughter.

‘James told us dinner was finally ready,’ Al said.

‘It’s not,’ said Malfoy flatly.

‘It nearly is,’ said Harry hurriedly.

‘Seven minutes!’ shouted Ginny from the kitchen.

‘You have a decision to make, boys,’ said Malfoy authoritatively. ‘Either you stay here for your Christmas dinner or you come home with me as was the prior agreement. Mr Potter has suggested that you take some food with you.’

‘How about you join us for Christmas dinner, Mr Malfoy?’ asked James innocently, causing Scorpius to let out a scream of laughter and Al to nearly bend double, his shoulders shaking.

‘I’ve already eaten,’ said Malfoy. ‘And I don’t wish to impose any further. I’m perfectly happy with whatever you choose, boys.’

They seemed to collect themselves, the laughter fading away in little bursts. ‘Are… Granny and Grandpa still there?’ asked Scorpius.

Malfoy hesitated, and to Harry’s astonishment, he glanced to him, the way one would seeking reassurance. ‘No,’ he said, with great gentleness. ‘No, they’ve gone home.’

Scorpius nodded slowly, and his usual easy, bright smile was now rather forced. ‘Sure. All right. Safe to come home then.’

‘Always safe,’ said Malfoy. Scorpius hummed, and then looked at Al, who looked back.

Harry, sensing that the conversation would be too awkward to have in front of parents, rose, seizing his glass. ‘Can I get you more, Malfoy, while the boys make their decision?’

‘Oh, no thank you,’ said Malfoy, missing Harry’s intention altogether. He tried to give him an exasperated look to hint further, but Malfoy’s eyes were fixed on his son.

Knowing a lost cause when he saw one, Harry left the room and went through to the kitchen to help Ginny with the last of the dinner, James following. Lily was there too, spooning brussel sprouts into a serving dish.

‘Well?’ Ginny asked.

‘They’re making their minds up,’ said Harry. ‘Want me to carve up?’

‘Please.’

‘Will you at least try my nut roast, Dad? You might prefer it-’

‘I try it every year, Lily, it’s very nice. Not as nice as turkey.’

‘More ethical-’

‘Lily, Dad’s a soft target and you’ve still not convinced him,’ said James. ‘Give up.’

‘Aunt Hermione says-’

‘You’ve not convinced her, either.’

Albus entered the room, looking rather sheepish. Harry knew what he was going to say before he said it.

‘Do you mind if Scorpius and I take a few bits and go? We won’t take a lot, Mr Malfoy says he has loads left over and cheese and stuff.’

It would be their first Christmas dinner without Albus. Without any of their children. The thought of it quietly devastated Harry. He wanted to scream and shout - could Malfoy not wait another bloody hour? Could they not stay just a little longer? The food was ready now.

‘It’s just…’ continued Albus meekly, ‘Mr Malfoy… if he goes home now without us he’ll be on his own, now his parents have gone home…’

‘Have they definitely gone?’ asked Harry abruptly. ‘Because that was - you know our condition, we’re not sending you to spend time with Death Eaters.’

‘They’re definitely gone,’ said Albus. ‘You know, after what happened last year on the cliffs… they’ve not exactly come to terms with the gay thing, let alone me being that gay thing, so to speak.’

Harry sighed, continuing to carve the turkey. He felt Ginny’s hand on his back, she had come to stand beside him.

‘Are you sure you couldn’t both eat with us, Al?’ Ginny asked pleadingly. ‘The plan was for you both to eat with us and then spend the evening-’

‘I know, but…’

Harry understood. ‘We weren’t on time,’ he muttered bitterly.

Al looked guilty, and Harry deeply appreciated it as he said, ‘it’s no one’s fault. None of us - not even Mr Malfoy - are annoyed or anything, it’s just… I don’t like the thought of him being on his own…’

Harry looked at Ginny. She gave a wry smile. ‘Why don’t we ask Mr Malfoy if he wants to stay for dinner? Wouldn’t be at all frosty or awkward.’

‘James already made that joke,’ he said warmly. He looked back at Al. ‘He’d be completely alone if he went back now?’

‘Yeah,’ said Al. ‘And I don’t get the impression he had a great Christmas dinner with his own parents.’

Harry nodded, sought one last look of reassurance from Ginny, and said, ‘OK. Can’t really argue with that, especially when we’ve been so late.’

Al beamed at him; they had come such a long way, the pair of them. Harry was quite sure that just a year or two previously this would have caused an argument of huge proportions.

‘Let’s carry all this through,’ said Ginny, ‘the pair of you make up your plates and then take them to go.’

They did so, Malfoy standing to one side and watching as they piled their plates high.

‘Take another Yorkshire, Scorpius, go on,’ said Ginny. ‘Al, I can’t remember, do you like braised cabbage?’

‘No - I’ll have some of those carrots though.’

‘This turkey’s still pink in the middle,’ said James, then snickered as Harry checked it with sheer panic.

‘That’s not funny - it’s fine.’

‘Scorpius, white or dark meat?’ Ginny asked. ‘James has bagsied a leg, but the other one’s still-’

‘Oh, no, I’ll have some of the breast meat, thanks-’

‘Thank you,’ said a quiet voice to Harry. He turned. Malfoy was beside him, still unable to look him in the face, but clearly reluctantly speaking to him. ‘I’m sorry to intrude on your family Christmas and pull Albus away.’

‘Not at all,’ said Harry.

‘It’s a hard time of the year,’ said Malfoy stiffly. ‘For some people,’ he added, rather forcefully. ‘I - my apologies if it’s made things difficult for you-’

‘No, it’s fine,’ said Harry swiftly. He had no desire for a heart to heart with Draco Malfoy of all people. ‘My apologies for being so late with the Christmas lunch.’

The boys’ plates were now so high that it felt ludicrous, and Ginny had to concede defeat on plying them with more food. She waved her wand so that tin foil covered the plates as the boys held them, and gave another jab of her wand up to the ceiling. Harry heard the suitcases clunk clumsily down the stairs and wait by the front door.

‘If you didn’t pack properly like I asked, that’s your problem,’ she said, as she gave Albus a tight, squeezing hug and a kiss on the cheek.

‘We did!’ Albus assured her.

‘Remember we’re at Nana and Grandad’s tomorrow, probably going to stay overnight.’

‘OK, send them my love.’

She embraced Scorpius next. ‘Did you remember your present from me and Harry?’

‘Oh, nearly forgot! Dad, hold this-’ Scorpius shoved the plate into his father’s hands, and raced from the room.

‘You got him a present?’ Malfoy asked, his pointed face slightly softened with surprise.

‘Of course,’ said Harry. ‘He’s very welcome.’

Scorpius returned with the selection of Weasley Wizard Wheezes products and chocolates Harry and Ginny had gifted him tucked under his arm, and took the plate back from his father. With a last few goodbyes, Harry watched them through the dining room window as they walked down his driveway, through the large wooden gate, and vanished on the deserted lane.

‘Come on, stop moping,’ said James. ‘Your food’s getting cold.’

Harry turned, and joined the rest of his family at the table, where they toasted, and then pulled their crackers. Harry donned his hat; a rather extravagant fascinator. Ginny passed him the gravy. ‘I wasn’t moping,’ Harry told James. ‘Just annoyed with myself for getting the timings wrong. Though I think if you lot had got out of bed and showered quicker that would have helped too.’

‘And if Al and Scorpius had come and helped with dinner prep instead of going for a walk,’ added Lily.

‘And if the planets had aligned and we’d won the Daily Prophet Grand Prize Draw and all that,’ said Ginny airily. ‘No point in fussing.’ She reached out and grasped Harry’s hand. ‘It was the right thing to do. He’s not had an easy time of it.’

‘Still think we should have made him stay,’ said James. ��Love an awkward guest. Let’s invite Dawlish next year.’

‘Yes, you made that clear,’ said Harry.

‘It’s our turn to go to The Burrow next year, along with the Granger-Weasleys,’ said Ginny. ‘Anyway, what’s Christmas without an awkward guest or unwelcome relative? God, the Christmases we went through with Muriel… or that cousin on my Dad’s side who went a bit funny and ended up becoming an accountant, we had a horrible Christmas with him.’

‘What?’ asked Lily, bewildered.

‘Have I never told you? Oh, he was ridiculous, such an odd man - Dad always said it was a potion accident, but your Uncle George and Fred always said it was more like potion abuse-’

Harry’s mind had wandered. For some reason, perhaps it was the brandy Malfoy had been drinking, he was thinking once more of that Christmas where Aunt Marge had swirled the glass, smacking her lips. ‘There you go, my little nephy-poo,’ she’d squealed at Dudley, as she’d handed over his present. Harry had watched, eyes round with awe, as Dudley unwrapped a toy robot. The box said that it really moved, walked around the room, even responded to commands.

Then, to Harry’s astonishment, Marge thrusted a gift at him, too. He looked up at her in disbelief, but she was already turning back to Dudley, who was throwing a tantrum because Uncle Vernon could not find AAA batteries for the robot. With numb fingers, he very gently unwrapped the present.

WINALOT, the box said, right at the top. A happy looking bulldog seemed to smile on the front. KEEPS YOUR DOG FIT, NOT FAT.

In hindsight, Harry could generously suppose she had got him something but that she was the type of woman to also get her dogs Christmas presents, and take the time to wrap them. Perhaps it had been a mistake. No doubt he had not meant to receive something along the lines of a toy robot, but perhaps she had intended to give him at least something as a gesture. It did not matter. At that age, after his seven years of experience with the Dursleys, he had said thank you in a small voice, and taken the dog biscuits to his cupboard, where he stayed for as much of the rest of the day as he could.

For Harry knew full well what it was like to be an unwelcome guest, an awkward relative, an unwanted presence at Christmas. He had not wanted that for Scorpius, but nor had he wanted it for Malfoy either, as much as he detested him. He knew too, what it was like to feel lonely at Christmas, to feel grief more strongly at a time where forced cheer was in the air, to feel ostracised by those around him. Perhaps it had been the world’s most awkward drink, but it had felt important to offer it.

Suddenly, having his son miss the latter half of the day didn’t feel as devastating.

‘Dad,’ said Lily suddenly, breaking him out of his thoughts. ‘Dad, try some of my nut roast.’

‘All right,’ said Harry, as James groaned dramatically.

‘Lily! Give! Up!’

‘Never!’ she cried. ‘After Christmas, I’m going to campaign the house elves at school-’

‘I’m going to tell Aunt Hermione you’re giving them more work,’ said James quickly.

As they bickered, Ginny leant closer to Harry. ‘We’re lucky, aren’t we?’ she murmured. ‘That we have so many people we want at Christmas dinner with us.’

He smiled at her. ‘Certainly are.’

[pink-sparkly-witch]

Home for Christmas

Summary: Christmas music flows through the house, snow is falling outside, you’re decorating the tree and patiently waiting for Jensen to come home for Christmas…

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Female Reader

Warnings: Festive fluff

Word Count: 1K

A/N: I hope you enjoy this fluffy, festive story. It’s the first thing I’ve written in a few months and it’s so good to have written something! Let’s hope it continues into 2023! Reblogs and feedback are always welcome!

My Masterlist     AO3     Ko-Fi

Lifting the last storage box from the landing, you hummed along to “Driving Home for Christmas”, the song drifting upstairs from the speaker in the living room. You smiled as you thought about your husband who was doing exactly that right now and couldn’t help but glance out the hall window on the off-chance he’d made it home extra early. But the excitement drained from your face and was replaced with a frown as you noticed snow start to fall and hoped Jensen would get home before it took hold.

Making your way slowly back to the living room and taking care not to trip over the novelty reindeer slippers adorning your feet, you placed the box in your arms next to the large pine tree. Pulling off its lid, you grinned widely as you saw two Santa hats; one yours and the other Jensen’s. You laughed as you put yours on, knowing you now looked ridiculous in an elf onesie, reindeer slippers, and a Santa hat, but feeling too festive to care.

“…Someday soon we all will be together, if the fates allow,” you sang as you carefully picked out baubles and ornaments, hanging them on the tree. “Hang a shining star upon the highest bough… and have yourself a merry little Christmas now…”

“Well, if that ain’t a sight to make a man’s heart stop!” Jensen chuckled from behind you. Spinning around, you smile widely and run towards him, jumping into his outstretched arms. “Hey sweetheart. I missed you,” he whispered into your hair.

“I missed you too. I’m glad you’re home,” you said, voice muffled because your face was squished into his chest. Jensen laughed softly and pulled you in closer.

“You’ll be begging me to get back to work by New Years’!” he chuckled. “You’ll be sick of me by then!”

“Never,” you mumbled against him, smiling as his laugh rumbled through him. You loved how he laughed with his whole body.

“How ‘bout we get the tree finished?” Jensen asked, placing his lips to your temple, and beginning to sway your bodies to the music.

“Hmm… five more minutes,” you sighed in content, smiling softly when he wrapped you tighter in his arms and squeezed.

“Anything for you, sweetheart.”

The afternoon with your husband was perfect. After being away for two months, you’d missed him terribly, though you were used to the long partings; Jensen was a workaholic after all. Sure, he enjoyed his time off and spending it with you, but after a while, he’d get antsy and needed to be working on something.

It wasn’t easy being married to someone who was always away. When he was gone were some of the hardest and loneliest times you’d ever had. But you loved him with absolutely everything in you, and you’d never stop someone from living their dream.

As much as you hated it, you knew it could be much worse. Your career as a writer meant you could work anywhere and you were lucky enough that you could travel with him. Of course, sometimes you chose to stay at home, knowing you could focus on getting large chunks of your next bestseller written. When you were in that mindset, you had no routine and no sleeping or eating pattern, so it was much easier for both of you to be apart.

And the homecomings? Well, they were phenomenal, and made the long, solitary weeks worth it. Absence definitely made the heart grow fonder, and who could deny that always feeling like you were in the “honeymoon period” with your partner wasn’t a blessing?

“What’re you grinning at, sweetheart?” Jensen’s voice broke you from your thoughts.

“I’m just so happy you’re home. I missed you and I can’t wait to spend the next few weeks with you.” You smiled, walking over to him and raising up on your tiptoes to peck his lips.

“Me too, Y/N. You still thinking of coming back with me to New Mexico after the holidays?” he asked.

“Yeah. I’ve been planning out that cowboy romance idea for a couple weeks. What better place to do more research and find inspiration than New Mexico?” You chuckled, feeling your heart stammer and butterflies swarm in your stomach at the excitement on his face.

“Good. You know I hate being away from you for too long. Can’t bear the thought of only being here two weeks and then away for another two months.” Jensen said, making your heart melt.

“You know,” you smirked at your husband. “You put on a great show of being a grump and a grinch with your “I don’t do feelings” attitude, but really, you’re just all soft and warm and fuzzy and sweet and cute, aren’t ya?”

“Hey!” He pointed at you, playfully. “That is between you, me, and these walls! I have a reputation to uphold.” He chuckled as you laughed at him.

“You’re adorable!” you teased him further.

“And you’re a pain in my ass!” he grumbled with feigned grumpiness, the twinkle in his eyes the only giveaway.

“I love you too!” you giggled. “And don’t worry, your secrets are always safe with me,” you reassured him as you grabbed the silver star, ready to place on top of the tree.

Jensen crouched in front of you, allowing you to climb onto his shoulders. Carefully, he stood to his full height and slowly walked you both towards the tree. With the full confidence that he wouldn’t drop you, you leaned forward and placed the star on the top branch.

“Alright,” you sighed, “I think we’re done!” Placing your hands in Jensen’s hair, you gently raked your fingers through his soft locks. “How about some cocoa?”

“Cocoa? Do I look like the kinda guy that drinks cocoa?” Jensen scoffed as he slowly crouched down and helped you off his shoulders.

“We can spike it with whiskey,” you added with a smirk.

“Now you’re talking!” Jensen said, clapping his hands and rubbing them together. “I knew there was a reason I married you!”

@akshi8278 @deanwanddamons @deans-baby-momma @siospins2 @sexyvixen7 @leigh70 @stoneyggirl2 @hobby27 @candy-coated-misery0731 @im-totally-not-dezi

[floating--goblin]

21 and 33 for the asks :O

21. something you’ve kept since childhood?

surprisingly quite a lot of things, i was just never given new stuff lmao

since it's the holiday season and all i'll mention this string of blue bauble lights, with these little stars cut in the baubles that the light comes out through. and i really love it because the light's very faint and doesn't give me sensory issues! plus, stars are always awesome

since my mother no longer allows a tree, i got to put it in my room and it's technically mine now

33. the last adventure you’ve been on?

my brother in christ every day is an adventure to me do you even know how stupid i am? it's a wonder i'm still alive

well i guess the last time i visited my parents a month or so ago, they left me at grandma's house for a while, which hasn't been lived in for 6+ months and is in the middle of nowhere in the mountains. there was no gas, hot water or central heating so i had to make a fire (sobă is life) but i got lucky enough to find this little electric stove to cook on

picture from the occasion, i made a stew

worst part was really just cleaning up enough to live in there cause the house was falling apart, otherwise it was cool. went to forage for wood and took apples from my shitty uncle's orchard

[jenrenfieldhandmade]

Merry shitcram to all who celebrate

Bf got covid and we're stuck in our little flat for the holidays, so I tried to make it as cozy as possible.

Looooong story under cut:

I couldn't decide whether to go traditional or whacky with the christmas tree. So I ended up mashing both:

Version 1: straw stars and felted dinosaurs.

Version 2: all of the above plus traditional baubles

Bf doesn't like it but that's what you get when you leave all stylistic choices to your -very tired- gf.

Last minute christmas dinner setup:

Our kitchen has been a construction site these past weeks due to a broken water pipe. We were lucky it got fixed before christmas but it left us very little time to tidy up. Also we wanted to buy a dining table of off fb marketplace but after two messages the seller stopped replying and deleted their post. So we used what we had: a folding table.

This is christmas is as chaotic as it is sad, since I can't even visit my family (who live in walking distance, so it's not like I never see them but still) This is not what I meant when I said I wanted to spend christmas with my bf.

However Santa blessed us with some prezzies anyway and in the end it's all not that bad.

Sorry for long post, here's a pic of my dog blissed out after dinner:

I wish you all happy holidays! May you spend them surrounded by people who love you and make you happy and may all your wishes come true!

Lots of love from my chaotic little home to yours! <3

[hosannan]

Of Oceans Crossed { Timerra & Nanna

The Officers Academy welcomes the continent of Elyos! With the current interest in countries outside of Fodlan, the students are eager to welcome new faces and learn all they can about these new-to-them countries. The cooking club in particular is hosting a potluck for all to attend, starring a roast bear on a spit.

Ah… Nanna had heard the of the likes of Elyos during her initiation into the academy, but she hadn’t come across it in any of her maps until then. It would be a shame not to use this potluck as an opportunity to bridge a connection of some sort—perhaps even make friends if she was lucky. The sweet miss Veyle had made quite a lovely impression with her elegant decorum, so Nanna could only hope that it would be the same for any other. The cooking club had set up their spit outside, strewing different sets of blankets outside for all to come and eat. She had heard that Leif was part of the hunt for the bear they had mounted, so it certainly wouldn’t hurt to try it…

“Hello!” Best foot forward, Nanna. “Oh, one slice, if you may—” She had an aside with one of the cooking club members for a moment, before turning her attention to the girl in line. She had all sorts of accessories and baubles that were entirely foreign to the culture of Thracia. Nanna took a mental note to ask her if they were cultural pieces or if they were part of the young woman’s usual wear. “I’m Princess Nanna of Thracia, haha! I’m still quite new here, myself. Have you been enjoying your time at the academy?”

She continued with ease, taking a plate of bear and a side of potato, steamed and dashed with herbs. “I’m quite fond of your hair ornaments…” Nanna stepped wayward, to allow the rest of the line to continue its steady stream. Her swarthy complexion and colorful accessories were beautiful, in Nanna’s opinion. Her own feather accessory rippled as a breeze stirred past them. “Are they significant to your country? Or perhaps to yourself?”

“Oh and—If you do not mind, might I join you for a meal?” Nanna hadn’t managed to sit down with her new colleagues yet, so this was as good a time as any. And besides, the worst she could say was no, right?

@solmtinel

[fairybond]

❛ wait, is that mistletoe? ❜ / lis ♡♡♡

winter themed asks // accepting

     The inter-guild winter party was in full swing. Hosted by Blue Pegasus, (of course) the large hall was lavishly decorated to celebrate the holiday season, and it was clear that plenty of effort had gone into the grand affair.

     Lisanna herself had been more than happy to be on the team of decorators setting the scene, even if it had taken a couple of days to arrange everything just so. There were many things to be considered when putting together such an event, after all. Lighting, space, ornaments, chairs and tables, food and drinks, music and so on.

     Most of her time had been spent on adorning the walls and festive trees with strings of light and ribbon, adding pretty baubles and glittering stars in carefully selected places too.

     The way the crowd of guests, and members of her own guild as well, had looked around in awe as they entered the hall, proved that the energy, time, and money spent had been well worth it. Even an hour or so into the party, she could still see the appreciative gazes admiring the atmosphere that had been created.

     She was sure a large part of the wonderful ambiance came from the special enchantment one of her guildmates had set up – it provided a soft snowfall, drifting down from the high ceiling but never resulting in so much as a single flake landing anywhere. Coupled with the lighting (the main sources of which were floating, snowflake shaped lacrima), the indoor snow conjured a sense of surreal magic, one that had Lisanna (and others) sighing wistfully.

     Surveying the vast room with delighted eyes, she didn’t even glance at Sting as he voiced his question.

      “Yes, it is!” she answered, without real thought but with a proud grin, “I added it all over the place, I thought it would be fun.”

     She did enjoy (perhaps a little too much) the chance for a bit of mischief and matchmaking. Just who would end up beneath her cheeky decorations? And who would follow through with the tradition?

     It was only then that she turned her gaze to Sting. His own gaze was fixed upwards, causing a sudden spike in the rhythm of her heart.

     “Oh.” It was hardly more than a breath that escaped her, as she stared up at the cheerful colours and all too familiar shape of mistletoe above them.

     Awareness of him was never too far from her senses, always teasing her with sensitivity to his very existence. Said awareness now crackled to the forefront of her mind and body, until she could see only him. The soft lighting around them seemed to caress his face, shifting and gently warming blond hair, and highlighting the flecks of colour within hazel eyes.

     Sting. So familiar to her now, so beautiful.

     With all her hopes of setting others up for fun with the mistletoe, she had never considered herself being caught under it. Certainly, she had not thought she might end up caught under it with Sting (although there was no denying, she felt a certain thrill about it now).

     Her heart pounded loudly in her chest, a strange lightness buzzing through her body as a faint flush crept up to her cheeks.

     The point of mistletoe was to initiate a kiss between a couple. Did she want to kiss Sting? Yes. Did he want to kiss her? Probably not.

     It would be best to cut him loose from the holiday tradition, she decided. Her dismissive words came out in a rush, “It’s just silly, though, isn’t it? Absolutely not necessary to follow through on, and I mean mistletoe can also be super unlucky for some. Like getting stuck under it with a total creep!”

     She scrunched her face at the thought of some pervert puckering up to her, but quickly noticed a potential interpretation of her words and hurried to reassure him.

     “But you’re not a creep! Not at all! Anyone would be lucky to be stuck under the mistletoe with you!”

     The words prompted the scenario to appear in her mind. Sting, under the mistletoe with someone else. Kissing someone else.

     Her heart squeezed painfully at the thought, and an echo of a growl reverberated in the depths of her soul, threatening to be verbalized. She squashed the impulse by pushing the mental image away, forcing her mind back to the clear issue of the fact it was her with him currently.

     And wasn’t she just making it awkward now? They were friends, it didn’t have to be weird, and there was nothing against a mistletoe kiss being but a simple peck on the cheek. Her friendship with Sting was not an unaffectionate one, and he had kissed her forehead before, so really…it would be weirder for them to do nothing in this moment, right?

     The decision brought both relief and a spark of nervousness. She let out a breath, a slightly sheepish smile shaping her lips as she said, “I hope no one tries to kill me for being the lucky one here.”

     Before she could talk herself out of it, she lifted a hand to rest upon his shoulder, steadying herself as she stretched up, intending to place a kiss upon his cheek. Somehow, her lips touched the corner of his mouth instead (and shock had her lingering there for a moment). Butterflies swarmed in her stomach, fluttering up to her chest as she lowered herself down again.

     She turned away, letting her hand fall from his shoulder as she tried desperately to refocus on the party. She could only hope her blush wasn’t noticeable, and that her voice sounded even, “Everything looks great here, doesn’t it? So beautiful.”

[lorelailewis]

who: @cricketcampbell

where: their apartment

If Lorelai had one happy memory from her childhood, it was helping her family decorate their home for Christmas—twinkling lights, glittering baubles, colourful reams of tinsel, metallic decorations hanging from ceilings and doorways, the front porch littered with an assortment of tiny snow covered houses and felt Christmas gonks.

It was the one thing her family were able to enjoy together—even when choosing who would place the star on top of the tree always lead to hair pulling and a kick to the knees between Lorelai and Lucky. Lemie and Lee always seemed happy enough to let the youngest two fight it out.

Now that she had left the nest and no longer had Lucky to compete with over placing the star on top of the tree, only one person stood between Lorelai and winning the Christmas light competition—Chloe.

Her roommate who was put on this earth to torment her.

“She’s being unreasonable!” Lorelai huffed, pitching her voice high enough so that her stubborn roommate would still hear her over the muffled sound of Katy Perry’s Harleys in Hawaii blaring from her room. “You need to convince her that we need more lights.” Lorelai demanded, clucking her tongue expectantly at Crickett. “If we don’t win this competition because of her then I’m going to use this tinsel to straight up strangle her in her sleep.”

[thenamesblurrito]

Hmm… a Hero (Cheetor?) using sub space to store presents to give to cybertronians? Also storing snacks and stuff. Do people fit in subspace?

depends on the individual's subspace size. subspace, not that they know this in-universe as it's a recently (re?)discovered supernatural thing, is quite literally the layer of reality below physical space, where mass and concentrated energy leave an "imprint" but don't actually exist. a person's frame size, density, and spark power determine how much subspace area they have. special sparktypes can change that, so a loadbearer like Minimus or powermaster like Nightracer have more than would otherwise be possible, and then some like Makeshift appear to be random outliers with massive subspace area for no discernible reason. usually, a hero can store roughly twice their own mass in subspace, not counting their relic which dissipates to energy in subspace to later be remanifested. so someone like Abominus could probably fit a small crowd in his subspace, but Elita 4 would be lucky to get more than three

this is also not considering whether or not people should go in subspace, as in, will they survive or not, but that's something that might be figured out the hard way :)

on the gifts and snacks thing, yes, very much so. even in kid form they have hero-sized subspace for some reason. to deter himself from eating scraplets on instinct to manage his superfast metabolism, Blurr carries around snacks and has ceased caring if people wonder where he gets them from. to hell with secrecy, he's hungry. Firestar carries some of her favorite books to read during downtime, and will often lose an hour or ten curled up in a corner somewhere lost in her novel. Blackarachnia usually has some of Airachnid's cabling on hand to mess with. she's discovered she likes weaving and knitting. Blitzwing keeps his dulcimer in subspace to keep it safe, and ends up storing favorite sculptures in there too. most all of them use subspace to tote around school supplies and books they need. Hot Rod and Skywarp are the worst at using subspace. it's out of sight out of mind x100. the things no longer exist in physical reality, these ADHD icons have lost them forever! (there's another person with subspace who's supremely forgetful about it. constantly misplacing things, forgetting about stuff, using an object and putting it right back, switching items on accident. it's practically a miracle nobody notices...)

in hero form there is of course Soundwave distributing his own merch, but Rodimus also likes collecting and handing out merch, gifts, and even little handmade baubles. Elita 2 distributes energon goodies when she thinks of it, Scourge collects Enforcer capture gear thrown at him to use as Sweep toys, Thunderblast is almost pathological in snatching and hoarding every snack, gift, offering, or otherwise useful item presented to her, Elita 3 twists discarded metal into pretty figures like flowers or stars and gives them to gathering kids, and rumor has it Drift will trade you for cool hero merch with some collectibles of his own. of course, the problem is, with the level of paranoid control the government has, every item distributed to the general public is viewed as a secret code/bomb/other threat of some kind, so whenever the heroes hand things out, Enforcers usually come behind to aggressively ask people what they've been given and why

[yukipri]

Marco’s Bauble Part 5 - a One Piece Mermaid AU Text Story

Here’s the next part of Marco’s Bauble!

In which the Whitebeards gossip even more, and the gossip circle widens.

Contains mention of Marco x Luffy.

Continues off of, and should be read after:

👒🐟Marco’s Bauble Part 1

👒🐟Marco’s Bauble Part 2

👒🐟Marco’s Bauble Part 3

👒🐟Marco’s Bauble, Part 4

"Does the meeting have to be in my room?"

Jozu's room feels cramped with six commanders crammed inside. The Commander bedrooms, which double as their offices, aren't exactly spacious. They're still the only crew members who even have their own private quarters, so no one complains. Of the Commander's rooms, Jozu's is the largest, simply to accommodate the fact that Jozu's physical bulk is several times that of any other Commander. So naturally, Jozu's room is where they gather when they need to have the rare Secret Meeting, away from any of Pops's rooms or public spaces that anyone can walk into.

"I don't even know why we're here," Jozu mutters mostly to himself, perched awkwardly on the edge of his own bed. Vista and Rakuyo take up the rest of his mattress, because Izo's commandeered Jozu's desk and chair. Izo's even brought a mirror and makeup kit, and is putting eyeliner on Namur for some reason. Haruta's sitting on the floor by the door, to "keep watch," apparently.

"You can leave if you'd like, it's private anyway," Rakuyo smirks. He's only been let in on the secret because he'd been the one to make up the lie at lunch, announcing loudly that Haruta had actually shouted about marigolds in Izo's new perfume and not Marco. And oh yeah, Vista's allergic to them! Hence the overreaction, of course.

It's a miracle their other brothers bought the honestly bizarre lie, and Rakuyo secretly thinks that they most definitely heard but are bro enough to play along because the other Commanders looked so pathetically desperate for them to pretend it never happened. But well, it worked out for Rakuyo, who was able to corner Izo and Haruta (along with a still very much spooked Vista), to demand answers for so generously providing a coverup, no matter how shoddy.

(Rakuyo can just imagine how the rumor mill is churning right now, now that everyone other than the night shift is crammed into the barracks and lights are out. But ah well, that's not his business, at least until he gets some answers himself.)

Which leads them to now, in a Secret Meeting to reveal all.

Jozu heaves a massive sigh that jostles the other two Commanders taking up his bed, before getting up with a creak. It's very clear that Rakuyo is especially eager to start getting all the dirt or whatever this is about, and perhaps that really isn't something he wants to be a part of.

Jozu doesn't much like being chased out of his own room, but he doesn't really like gossip anyway. Maybe it would be better to step out, and not have to deal with the drama afterwards.

"Maybe I'll go take a walk..." Some fresh night air doesn't sound too bad.

"Yeah, we'll just be talking about Marco's upcoming wedding," Haruta chortles, even as he moves out of the way to let Jozu through.

Jozu freezes. Rakuyo makes a little oooh sound.

Jozu sits back down, and Vista and Rakuyo grunt as the mattress sinks towards their brother's greater mass.

"Wait, since when was it a wedding?" Namur's eyes widen. "I only know about his proposal, not even a formal engagement yet..."

There must be several steps between "proposal" and "wedding," or so Namur thought. But perhaps he's just misunderstanding humans once again.

"Hush, don't move, you'll ruin your eyeliner," Izo scolds, and Namur shuts up, wisely, because everyone knows how Izo feels about ruined eyeliner.

"Wait, wait, wait," Jozu starts, because he's just heard several things in rapid succession that he's failing to process. Jozu prides himself on fast thinking in battle, but it apparently doesn't apply outside of it, which is a problem because he's reeling. But then again, these types of cannonballs aren't shot into his face every day.

Jozu isn't given time, because Rakuyo's hooting like a madman, flailing arms smacking Vista, who has also gone frozen and wide-eyed, and Jozu's glad that at least he's not the only brother who feels lost.

"Alright, let's hear it! Who's the lucky boy?" Rakuyo leans as far forward towards Izo and Namur as he can without his ass leaving the bed.

"Get this," Izo leans in too, just as eager. "Marco's fiancee is a girl."

Jozu chokes, but it goes completely ignored, as does Vista's gasp and dainty hand to his heart, and Rakuyo expelling what seems to be all of the spit in his mouth, all in the face of Haruta bolting to his feet and shrieking "WHAT?!" loud enough to probably be heard on the other side of the Moby.

"Izo..." Namur cringes, and looks distinctively miserable, an expression all the more exaggerated by the dramatic winged liner Izo's put around his eyes.

"It's too late, we're all here, might as well share with just our fellow Commanders no? It's a big occasion for our dearest first mate," Izo says, well over the initial guilt he felt. After all, such a big occasion for their brother is most certainly relevant to their fellow Commanders!

Everyone else in the room makes silent eye contact at Izo and Namur's exchange, immediately understanding what had occurred: Izo had been sworn to secrecy, but had slipped.

Well, they all sympathize. They feel for their poor fishman brother, they've all been in his shoes before.

But they're also all currently in this room, and the secret's been spilled, so at this point...well, what happens in Jozu's room, stays in Jozu's room, no?

And so the story comes out, and multiple other bombs are dropped: that the girl's a mermaid, Marco's never even met her, and she's also Ace's little brother.

"Wow, didn't know he liked them that young, Ace's practically a baby himself," Rakuyo mutters, and gets a sharp jab in the elbows from Vista.

“A mermaid,” Vista breathes, stars in his eyes. “A phoenix with a mermaid, that’s so romantic!”

“Isn’t it?” Namur looks eager for the first time since the meeting started, glad he’s found a kindred soul. “They’ll look so good together…”

Jozu's brain has finally caught up to the situation, but something's not adding up. He makes to raise his hand, but ends up loudly cracking his shoulder against the wall instead, which still does the job of catching his brothers' attentions.

"Wait, but I thought Ace said he couldn't join our crew because he promised to be pirates with his little brother...but if she gets married to Marco and she joins our crew, then...?"

There's a moment of deep contemplative silence.

"Well, there's the chance that Ace doesn't know about his little brother's relationship with Marco," Izo says slowly. "He might not even know that they've been corresponding."

There's a collective wince as they imagine how Ace's reaction to that being revealed might go, if it indeed is a secret. The one thing they know about Ace's little brother is that Ace has a MASSIVE brother complex, and is very, Very protective. They suddenly don’t envy Thatch.

"Do you think Thatch knows?" Vista speaks up. "Is this why he went with Ace?"

"If he didn't know, he knows now, Marco sent the letter and engagement gem to him to deliver," Namur says hesitantly, finally willing to contribute information.

"So let's get this straight, Ace thought he was just going back to East Blue to start a new pirate crew, and Thatch was just tagging along to help, but Thatch was actually sent by Marco to escort his bride back to us? Without Ace knowing? Is that right?" Haruta's eyes are wide and he sounds extremely impressed. "That's so evil of him, I didn't know he had it in him, holy shit!"

"We don't know that," Namur mumbles, but is ignored.

“Do you think Thatch’ll be best man at the wedding?” Vista wonders.

“That’s not fair!” Haruta hisses at the same time Izo shouts, “Favoritism!”

"Okay, okay, wait. So in that case, assuming Ace eventually calms down and supports the union, that means his little brother joins us, right? And if she joins, doesn't that mean Ace would join too? Since she was the only reason why he didn't join us, and he wants to be on the same crew as his brother..." Jozu can't let go of the possibility, now that it's there.

They'd all been terribly sad when Ace announced he was leaving. Their crew all understood why he had to go, a promise is a promise, and they'd still always be brothers but...the 2nd Division Commander seat had practically been waiting for him.

"There's always the chance that they mean to do long distance," Namur says then, glumly.

"That's so boring!" Izo says dismissively. "Marco should take what's his, we're pirates!"

Rakuyo cheers while Namur gasps in indignation, and everyone else sighs, except Vista who suddenly freezes.

"Marco wouldn't...leave us to join them, would he...?"

Well there's a thought.

"...We can't know what the bride thinks, but that we can ask Marco, probably," Jozu says uncertainly. Suddenly this whole "marriage" business is a lot more stressful than expected, because Jozu's not sure he likes the idea of suddenly losing their first mate, no matter how nice his future company is.

"It's not likely, probably, because they're just a baby crew, who already have our brothers as senior members," Haruta reasons. "Far more likely that they'll join us!"

"The 2nd'll be happy to have Ace and Deuce back," Vista nods, focusing on the positives, and the mood lightens considerably. "And we'll be able to have a wedding!"

“A wedding! I love weddings!” Rakuyo cheers. “Drinks all around!”

"Ace'll become our 2nd Division Commander after all," Namur says, and he looks so happy that Izo croons and pokes his cheek.

"Wait," Jozu says, and Izo groans not again. "This may be getting ahead of ourselves but...if Ace is 2nd Division Commander, that puts his room right next to Marco's...isn't that sorta awkward for the newlyweds?"

"Jozu!" Namur looks very scandalized, while Rakuyo and Haruta cackle.

"Maybe Ace'll burn a hole through the wall so they can't have any privacy," Haruta grins.

"That's terrible," Vista says, despite also beginning to smile.

This is nice, imagining what their family's future might be like. It'll no doubt be wild, but a positive change.

"But maybe being close to his brother would make Ace happier too, so maybe the 2nd Division would really be perfect," Izo says contemplatively.

"Question, would Ace's little brother be in the 1st or 2nd Division?" Namur wonders.

Bickering breaks out, but Rakuyo cuts through it. "She's Ace's brother, she might be Commander material herself, who says she'll be in one of their divisions?"

"Commander of Division 1.5," Namur says dreamily.

And oh, well, that wasn't what anyone else had in mind, but the more they think about it, the more it appeals.

"Perfectly in between her husband and brother, our future Commander of Division 1.5," Izo says it out loud, testing how it feels.

"I like it," Haruta shouts, and is echoed by his brothers.

~~

~~

~~

WHELP that took forever to write, but I hope you enjoyed! The next part has Marco :P

The number of Whitebeards keeps increasing! We now have all the main Whitebeards that are usually given attention (Marco, Thatch, Jozu, Vista, Izo, Haruta), and in addition to Namur, I decided I wanted to give Rakuyo some love! I think he looks like a Jack Sparrow rip off so I like him haha. Did anyone catch the reference?

Anyway, still very much figuring out how I want to portray them, but I'm enjoying exploring them in writing, so I'll know how to better depict them in any future art ^ ^;

As always, thank you so much for reading, and any comments are immensely appreciated!! (Comments are what make me decide how frequently to update, because the next parts are already written and up on Patreon <3)

❀ ❀ Send YukiPri an Ask! ❀ ❀

Read the next part: Marco’s Bauble, Part 6

~This ask has been added to the Mermaid AU Text Headcanons Compilation post~

[hawkeish]

3. You made me a Christmas playlist but it’s just Mariah Carey’s “All I want for Christmas is you”. I can’t tell if you’re hitting on me or if it’s a joke --- for (you know it) Carver/Merrill :D

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS PROMPT IT IS FANTASTIC, here’s 1400 words of modern Carver/Merrill fluff written for @dadrunkwriting because I have no restraint and too much time <3 I hope you like it!

no CWs, but there’s some swearing (I promise my Hawke siblings love each other, in a brutal way!)

also my modern Merrill’s a postgrad studing Art History & Cultural Studies - repairing the eluvian is her research project.

read on AO3 if you want!

It’s the evening before everything shuts down for Satinalia, and it’s started to snow.

Which would be nice, if only Carver wasn’t stuck outside Merrill’s door, trying not to break a magical mirror which possesses far too many poky bits as it pokes right into his side. Fingers numb with cold, he’s too busy fumbling with the ridiculous amount of keys she gave him to appreciate the beauty of the Alienage in Firstfall. Bedecked with wreaths, shining baubles and flickering garlands of lights, the vhenadahl is like something from a fairy-tale, dusted with a gentle sigh of snow.

Snow, lights, whatever. Any other night, Carver might let himself be enchanted. But right now, he has one priority—get the damn mirror into the damn apartment without breaking it even more.

And yet here he is, falling at the first hurdle: locked out, with Merrill’s most precious possession leaning on him at an angle that’s making him nervous. It’s not exactly going well. But it needs to go well. He promised he’d get the eluvian - carefully swaddled in some enchanted cloth to “protect him”, whatever that means - from her studio at the Viscount’s College of Art back to her Lowtown home in one piece. If he doesn’t, he’s not sure what might happen. He doesn’t want to know what might happen. Her degree? Ruined. A vital piece of her people’s history? Lost. And as for Merrill herself?

She’d probably never speak to him again, and shit, he can’t think of much worse—

Click.

The random key he’s shoved in the lock twists, and the door swings open before him.

“Thank the fucking Maker,” he mumbles, then picks up the mirror and barrels into Merrill’s tiny home.

Merrill’s flat is much like Merrill. As in, modest, pretty, and filled with a frankly terrifying amount of knowledge. There are small cairns of books dotted between potted plants and thrifted armchairs, alongside art prints leaned up against walls and notebooks littering her paint-flecked desk. Though she doesn’t celebrate Satinalia, there are a couple of decorations over the tiny fireplace, too. And—is that spice he can smell?

As Carver carefully sets down the eluvian by the window in the corner like she’d instructed, he catches sight of something in his peripheral vision. Two steaming cups of wine-dark liquid set on the coffee table by the fire, and beside them, a neatly-folded note.

Curiosity gets the better of him. Carver wanders over and gingerly picks up the paper, a frown puckering his brow as he unfurls it.

C. Merrill’s handwriting is pin-point neat. I just wanted to say - I do really appreciate you doing this for me. Creators, there’s no chance I could lift that thing on my own! You really are my chevalier in shining armour. I’ll send you a little something to say thanks. M x

That x does something strange to him; a small chill runs up his spine, and Carver puts the note back down in a fluster. Just as he does, the phone in his pocket vibrates. Still frowning, he pulls it out, then squints at the text that’s screaming up at him from the too-bright screen.

alright dickhead! hope you’re having a lovely day of being a burden on society! did you get the message?

Carver doesn’t need to read the sender’s name to know it’s from his sister.

Go back to making shit coffee for people who’ll never sleep with you, he types. And what message?

Surely Ri wouldn’t mean the note. Why would she know about the note? As far as he can tell, Merrill only asked him for help after Aveline and Fenris made some excuse about being far too busy washing their hair, or dancing round their townhouse full of half-decayed corpses, or whatever the fuck it is that they get up to instead of being friendly, helpful people.

Carver wasn’t the first choice. He never is. Which is fine. Totally fine. He’s used to it. Knowing he’s never a first thought definitely doesn’t itch at the back of his mind, or keep him up at night—

“Maker’s breath,” he scolds himself, trying to focus back on his phone.

And then, just as he presses send, another notification pops up. Unknown number; something in him tells him to tap anyway. When he does, a little jolt of static runs through him, warm and fuzzy and disgustingly sweet.

For you, the new message reads. To say thanks. I knew I wouldn’t need to ask anyone else. You’re all I need for Satinalia. Enjoy! <3

Below it, there’s a link to a playlist. A playlist which, he notices, contains about twenty versions of the same song, All I Want For Satinalia Is You. One’s in Elven. One’s a country version with, inexplicably, some late-night TV host caterwauling over the chorus. One’s by some Orlesian crooner called Michel de Bublé. There’s even one that’s just someone playing the recorder extremely badly over a muffled backing track.

It’s an…interesting mix. As he skips through the songs, though, he can’t help but smile. Whoever this truly ridiculous playlist was meant for is a lucky person. It certainly wasn’t for him.

At least, that’s what he thinks, until he taps back onto his messages app.

Then, his heart does a weird twist in his chest, and the phone suddenly feels like a searing hot coal in his hands. Because, in bold, in the small gap above the text where the sender’s name usually lies, there’s a small line that makes his pulse skip every time his eyes trail over it.

Could this be: Merrill Alerion

Carver nearly drops his phone.

This is a joke, right? It has to be a joke. Carver feels slightly seasick. Quicker than he knew his fingers could work, he’s sent a crappy screenshot to Marian.

This???????

A few seconds pass.

Ri replies with a voice message. The voice message is a long, horrible, joyous screech.

Fuck, Carver thinks. “Fuck!” Carver says, and stuffs his phone back into his pocket.

His heart’s going wild, now; his palms are sweatier than they’ve maybe ever been. The mulled wine suddenly seems like a very good idea: he takes one in each hand, trying to convince himself he doesn’t fucking hate star anise. Time to chug—

Halfway through his first glass, there’s two light knocks at the door.

Carver freezes, glass still at his lips. Then, he realises that in his haste to get the mirror in, he’s left the door open. Panic spears through him, until he remembers that he’s a six-foot-stupid ex-farmer and could definitely take on a burglar. And that burglars probably don’t knock.

Still, this is Kirkwall. Better to be safe than sorry. Carver holds his breath as he sets the glasses down as quietly as he can and starts towards the door. He’s not punched anyone in a while. Maybe the anxiety coursing round his body from that text will finally give him a decent right hook. Maybe if he catches someone trying to steal Merrill’s stuff, it’ll add to the whole chevalier-in-shining-armour thing. Maybe—

A gentle gust of wind flutters through the apartment, and the door swings open, just as Carver’s barely steps away.

When he sees who’s behind the door, he makes a tiny squealing noise that instantly makes him want to cease existing. Rosy-cheeked and smiling, Merrill stands before him. Flecks of snow are caught in her dark hair and on the chunky knitted scarf wrapped around her neck, and her eyes are glittering beneath the Satinalia lights strung up on the street outside. It’s as if she’s haloed, glowing, a beacon against the dark winter’s night.

She looks beautiful.

“Merrill,” he breathes. “I thought you were...”

“Studying?” She’s smiling, and he feels a bit dizzy. “I was. But I finished - just in time, I think! Did you get the message?”

“Uh—the playlist?” he offers. “Yeah.”

“But did you get the message?” she asks again, a grin tugging at the edges of her lips.

Carver frowns. There was a message to get? “I—what?”

“Creators,” Merrill says, half-laughing, glancing up at something above him, then back down. When her gaze locks with his, he feels his heart flutter. “Hawke said making you a playlist would be very smooth. I’m not sure I’m ever very smooth. I guess I’ll not trust your sister again.”

“Smooth?” he echoes, like an idiot.

Then, he remembers what’s hanging above her door. A sprig of mistletoe, tied up with a neat red bow.

Merrill answers him with a laugh, and a kiss, and Carver thinks oh.

[millywidow]

Round and Round (Day 7)

Prompt ~ "It'd make sense for our 3-year-old daughter to put the star on the tree rather than her fully grown adult parents."

Ship ~ Clintasha

Characters ~ Clint Barton; Natasha Romanoff; Philippa Barton

Warnings ~ N/A

AN / If you are confused who Philippa is, see my AN for chapter/part 3; "You're a mean one, Mr Grinch"

I just couldn't get into the writing flow with this prompt. It's a great prompt, just didn't click with my brain ;)

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Find a song (find a song) and sing it round, round, round

And with ties so strong, (oh) your hearts are bound

Hold them near (hold them near)

The ones you found, found, found

For you know that this is really love

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The glistening flash of tinsel glitters brightly throughout the house. The boxes of untouched decorations lay scattered around the room.

Natasha puts up the baubles, one by one. Each ornament is special, a separate and treasured memory tied to each one. When the plan was made to spend Christmas at the farm for the first time, she had coerced Clint into promising that they would decorate it in their own way. Not like those Pinterest aesthetic trees that are colour coded and neat. No, she wanted a chaotic tree, with oodles of colours. So throughout the year, they collected. At every country they visited, they would buy an ornament. If something pivotal happened in Philippa's life, they would take a photo and make their own ornament. This way, the tree was special and felt like an accomplishment.

While Natasha was setting up, Clint was attempting to wrangle his three-year-old daughter. As it was December 1st - the day that the decorations went up - they had let her eat some sugary treats. Cupcakes, Candy Canes, Chocolate. You know the drill. Turns out, despite being two of the greatest spies in the world, they could not say no to Philippa's puppy eyes. So she ended up eating a lot of sugar.

They were meant to be all setting up together, but things had changed when their daughter decided to turn the house into an obstacle course and a dance floor at the same time. With two Santa hats on her head, she managed to; tip over three boxes; upset Lucky-the-pizza-dog, and tire out Hawkeye. It was safe to say that she was one gifted little girl ;)

"Look, Daddy!" Pippa squeaked from her place on the couch. With great dramatics, she jumped off the couch and rolled onto the floor. At first, Clint was worried for her safety, but he calmed down when she landed safely. It was then that he recalled Natasha helping Pip clear the space earlier.

Not even a second later, the three-year-old was off and running. Tearing through the house, giggling the entire way.

"Don't worry, she'll pass out soon. It'll make our job of putting her to sleep tonight much much easier," Natasha whispered to him, with an evident grin on her face. He didn't know why she whispered, the only other person who would hear them was probably on the other side of the farmhouse by now.

Clint sent her an understanding smirk. Because she was right, this would make putting her to sleep tonight a lot easier. Which left time for…other things.

Philippa had always been a great sleeper as a baby. Then she hit two years old and learnt to run. Since then, there was no stopping her. She would never tire out. Just run around for ages. She had Natasha's stamina, and Clint's liveliness, which ended up being an annoying duo to her exhausted parents.

The archer, taking advantage of the small break he had received, began to help Natasha again. Picking up the decorations on the floor and handing them to her to put up.

They managed to get through a whole box before the human version of the roadrunner came racing through. Her blonde curls bounced with every step, her face covered in red frosting.

Clint raised his eyebrows as his daughter slowed down. Not once, this whole afternoon, had she slowed down. Normally it was a constant 'Daddy look at this' or 'Mama race me'. Philippa surprised her father, even more, when she plopped herself down onto the couch

He shared a look with the redhead, both watching their daughter slowly fall asleep. It took all the self-control he had to not snap a photo of the adorable blue-eyed girl sluggishly nodding off.

In a very comical fashion, Pippa slanted over and fell sideways onto the couch, fast asleep.

"She's out," Clint whispered to the only other conscious member in the house. Carefully, he picked her up and carried her to the bedroom, and tucking her in for the night.

Once he returned downstairs, his wife was still putting up the tree decorations. Despite the other activities he had hoped they would get up to tonight, he knew that once Natasha set her mind to something, she wouldn't rest until she had finished it.

So unless he wanted to spend most of the night alone, he would have to help get everything done.

Pulling up yet another box of decorations, he commenced the mission of putting small objects onto a fake tree.

In the end, it didn't take long. Without the distraction of Pip, everything went a lot quicker. They even managed to finish in time for their normal bedtime.

Only one object was left. It was wrapped in a neat embroiled cloth, and placed in a small box of it's own. It was obviously special, and yet Clint had never even seen it before.

Lifting it up in his arms, he noticed how light it was, despite its size. It wasn't big, but compared to the other decorations he had been putting up, it was gigantic.

With delicate fingers, he began to unwrap the cloth covering. Once it was revealed, Clint realised it was a star, perfect for the top of their Christmas tree. It could be the old age, he told himself, but this star nagged at his mind as if he had seen it before.

The archer looked up to see Natasha looking at him intently.

"Do you like it?" She asked quietly - bordering on timidly.

"Yeah, it's gorgeous. Where did you-"

"Budapest. I saw it in a shopfront the first time we went to Budapest. While you were in Malaysia earlier this year, I went to Budapest and bought it. I- I- just…I just thought it would be cute. I can take it back if-"

"Tasha. It's beautiful, I love it," he smiled softly

Natasha breathed out a sigh of relief and took the star out of his hands. Using him as leverage, she climbed onto his back and reached towards the tip of the green tree.

"Uh, Nat?" Clint questioned, placing his hand on the small of her back and pulling her back down to the ground. "It'd make sense for our 3-year-old daughter to put the star on the tree rather than her fully grown adult parents."

Natasha looked almost sheepish and Clint's admittance, but nodded silently and placed the star back into the box.

"How about we use this extra time to be…productive?" He asked playfully, eager to cheer her up.

She took the bait, grabbing his hand and leading him upstairs.

This time tomorrow tonight, they would be sitting on the couch, admiring the shimmering star on top of their chaotic - but memorable - Christmas tree. Excited to fill the tree with even more memories in the coming years.

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Question of the Day; What is your favourite Christmas ornament, and why is it special to you?