#the title is from the carol 'have yourself a merry little christmas' | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

katebishopshands · 9 months

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A Nonsense Christmas 🎄

Kate Bishop/reader

“Lookin at you got me thinkin Christmas”

The holidays have really gotten to you. Busy with classes and the usual holiday shenanigans has led you to spending barely any time with your favorite archer. Christmas being her favorite time of year, Kate invites you over to help decorate her apartment , what kinds of nonsense could you two get into while you’re at it??

(18+, fluff and smut)

((Inspired by Sabrina Carpenters song of the same title))

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New York during Christmas time was both the most magical time of the year, and the worst. Between the typical holiday hustle and bustle and then the inflated tourist population that all come to gawk at the Rockefeller tree, the sidewalks were packed full.

Pushing and shoving your way through the crowd, you attempted to balance two cups of hot coffee in your hands without spilling. The typical carolers were out, men and women in Santa hats ringing bells for the Salvation Army. The wind licking at your nose, making it begin to lose feeling and turning it a bright red.

It was just a few more blocks to Kates apartment. You couldn’t remember the last time you had been over to hers. It was normally her coming over to your place as of recently. Between spending time with your family and your college finals, time for just you and Kate had become few and far between. You missed her, you really did. And with the superhero gig, it was hard to not be worried about her when you didn’t see her every day.

Having a superhero as a girlfriend was no easy feat, sometimes the only time you’d see her during the week was a quick glimpse of her on the news. Of course you talked daily, but you craved to be face to face with her for a little bit.

Kates building came into view. Her invite over was warmly welcomed, as she promised a night of takeout, decorating her apartment for Christmas and some quality time with each other. You could afford a night off of homework duty to spend it with Kate. Christmas was her favorite holiday after all.

“Guess who??” You said as your knuckle pressed the rusty, paint chipped buzzer that connected to Kates apartment.

“Oh my god !” Came through the buzzer, the last half of god being cut up so it sounded more like “ gof” .

Another buzzer sounded, signaling to you that the door was unlocked and you could head up.

Still very carefully, as you had two coffees in hand, you opened the door and made your way up. Not a ton of people lived in her complex, probably had something to do with the fact that it was above a dingy pizza parlor or the fact that Kate had literally doxed herself and gotten Molotov cocktails thrown through her windows last Christmas.

As you turned the corner to her hallway you could hear Christmas music playing from her unit. You chuckled to yourself as you continued down the hall to her door. A shitty “Merry Christmas!” welcome mat stared up at you as you stood infront of her apartment. You fumbled with your keys for a moment, finding the spare key Kate had given to you when you started dating. Inserting it into the lock, you let yourself in.

Kates back was turned to you, preoccupied with stringing a row of clumped up colored lights on the tree that sat in the corner of her living room. You smiled a little bit to yourself, as you watched her for a moment. She cursed quietly to herself as she found a knot of lights.

“Fuck” she muttered as she threw down the lights, accepting defeat.

“Katie…” you giggled, setting the coffee down on her kitchen counter.

Her head whips around, blue eyes locking onto yours. Before you know it she’s across the room. Her arms wrap around you, squeezing you close to her. She picks you up slightly, leaning back so your toes just barely graze the ground.

You breathe her in for a moment. She smells like clean laundry and her usual lavender chai perfume. She’s warm, she always is but it’s welcomed more than usual against your cold face and hands.

Kate sets you down, leaning back to get a better look at you. She’s all teeth as she grins at you.

Her hands go to your face, calloused fingers rubbing over your chilled cheeks. She’s kissing you. Sweet and slow. You kiss her back, letting yourself melt into her. Your hands finding a home in her hair monetarily.

“I missed you” she pulls away momentarily before going back in for another peck,

“So so much” she continues the next time she pulls away.

“I missed you too” you smile at her, letting one of your hands rest on her face.

She’s wearing a dark blue sweater and light jeans. Her dark hair is down in loose curls. Some festive reindeer antlers sit atop her head. She looks cute.

“You’re cold” Kate frowns at you , her arms wrapped around your waist, holding your hips flush together. You shake your head laughing a little,

“Well yeah, I walked here from class..and it’s December..in New York”

“Touché” Kate shrugs, removing her arms from your hips.

At this point Lucky had realized that you had arrived, getting up from his bed and wedging himself between you and Kate.

“Awh how’s my best boy?” You say as you kneel, making sure to scratch at his ears . Kate had put him in a festive bandana, red and green stripes popping on his golden coat.

“And you’re not gonna ask how your best girl is?” Kate feigns offense as she hangs your jacket up next to hers. You roll your eyes at her, standing up and brushing dust off your knees.

“And how is my best girl?” Hands on your hips as you look expectantly at her. You make sure to exaggerate your words to highlight how ridiculous she’s being

“Much better now that you’re here” she wraps an arm around your waist again, pressing another kiss to your lips.

She’s smiles into it, and you do too. Just existing in her apartment with her eases you a bit. Feeling like some form of normalcy has been regained.

“Mhm, I got you something” you say as you pull away, reaching over to grab her her drink.

“Shut up” she says as she takes the hazelnut latte from your hand. She lets go of you for a moment, only to grab onto your hand and guide you over to her living room.

That was one of your favorite things about Kate, her want and almost need to always be touching you in someway. It was so sweet. Either her nonchalantly holding your hand, playing with your fingers as you sat on the couch, playing with your hair. It was disgustingly endearing and sweet, as was much of your relationship with her.

“So we kinda have a problem” Kate sips on her drink as she looks from the pile of lights on the floor to you.

“I didn’t untangle them before I put them on the tree, and now I have a giant knot, and I think we have to take all the lights off to get the knot out” she grins at you, it’s a shit eating one.

“Katie…” you sigh at her, already defeated . She takes another sip of her drink and smiled at you again,

“I love you” she says and she hands you the light clump.

“Mhm…sure you do” you groan taking the lights from her hand. She practically vibrates with excitement as she pecks your cheek as a thank you.

It takes you two at least an hour to untangle and remove the lights from the tree. It would’ve taken half that time but Kate had decided that undoing the knot was a two player game, and let’s just say that knot undoing was not Kate’s strong suit.

You catch up on each others lives, asking Kate about Clint and if the mysterious Yelena had made an appearance in her life yet again.

Kate’s convinced that she made Yelena up in her head because she hasn’t seen or heard from her since Christmas last year, but you’re not convinced. Rolling with avengers pulls all kinds of sketchy characters, so it’s perfectly believable that Kate had met a real life black widow assassin.

“And how were your classes today?” Kate looks up from placing an ornament on the tree. You groan, not wanting to relive the hard day of finals you had.

“The worst. I think that professor is going to fail me”

Kate scoffs.

“That’s literally impossible, you’re like the smartest girl ever” her gaze softens as she looks at you.

“I dunno, this professor really thinks the opposite of that” you shrug, continuing to decorate the tree. Kate sighs and rolls her eyes, making her way over to you. She wraps her arms around your center and rests her head on your shoulder . You give a content sigh as you rock slightly with Kate, continuing to decorate the tree. She hums along to whatever Christmas song is playing on her speaker, eyes closed.

You lose track of how long you stand like that, it could’ve been hours and you were more than alright with that. Kate stirs a bit. Her hands beginning to travel upwards. Eventually landing on your tits.

“Pervert” you mutter, but let her have her fun.

“What can I say, I missed them” she gropes you a bit. It had been so long since you were able to have some true one on one time with Kate. The slightest touch from her was able to get you all hot and bothered.

“Is that all you missed, Katie?”

She hums, letting her hands find their way under your sweatshirt.

“No..” she kisses at your neck,punctuating a few of her kisses with squeezes to your breasts. A small moan slips out.

“I missed your noises” another noise escapes your mouth.

“Shit..” you mumble.

Kate turns you around , only separating your mouths for a mere second before reconnecting your lips. She’s pushing her tongue into your mouth. Her hands now clutched at your hips, yours intertwined with her black locks.

“Kate..” you whine pulling away.

“What?” She looks at you slightly annoyed. A lazy smile grows on her face as she chases you for another kiss. You pull away, dodging her kiss.

“What about the tree?” You look towards her half decorated tree. She rolls her eyes.

“Can wait, need you now” Kate dives into you. You give into her, ripping the antlers off her head. As cute as they were, they were getting in the way of more important business. Kate eagerly strips herself of the sweater she wore, leaving her in a purple sports bra.

“I like your bra” you smirk. She giggles a little before grabbing at your sweatshirt.

“Your turn” she says before pulling it swiftly over your head. You shiver a bit, nipples perking up at the cold air that washed over your body.

“You look cold, babe” Kate’s working kisses down your neck, your arms lazily thrown over her shoulders.

“Lemme warm you up” she chuckles lowly into your ear. You can’t help but groan at her awful flirtations.

“Oh gag !” You half groan half moan as she manhandles you towards her couch. She’s desperately clawing at your leggings. You shimmy out of them as you make your way over, leaving a trail of clothing in your wake. Kate pops the button on her jeans and you help her out of them. She’s in nothing but her bra, a seamless thing and some stupid fuzzy socks that have snowmen on them.

They stare up at you two and you pause for a moment, before Kate gives a mortified look and rips them off. She bunches them off and tosses them behind her

“One more layer” she’s wiggling her eyebrows at you. You bite your lip at her and pull on your underwear a little.

“Unwrap your present baby” you punctuate your words with a snap of your underwear. Kate moans as she grips them, pulling them down so quickly you could’ve sworn they ripped.

“Katie! Be gentle, I like this pair!” You scoff at her, astounded that she’d be so careless with your belongings.

“I’ll buy you a new pair” she’s kissing you again, and shoving you down on her worn leather couch. You moan at the subtle flex of her money . It shouldn’t be hot, but it is.

Kate gets you laying down on the couch, head resting on the armrest. She’s sat on her knees in between your thighs, legs spread just enough so she can sit pretty there.

She’s so gorgeous. Kiss stained lips, pupils blown, all lean muscles and abs. Her cheeks are flushed a pretty pink. She looks like she could eat you alive.

She’s kissing you again. Her hands starting at your breasts, leaving teasing touches all the way down to your exposed core. Her fingers play with your clit and you whine into her.

“There you go” Kate knows how you like it. Rapid circles on your nub as she kisses you stupid.

She’s sucking marks under your jaw. Your hands pushing her head deeper into your body as she makes her way down your body.

Kate teases a finger into your cunt. Your back arches upwards at her touch. Barely any prep but yet you were already soaking from a few hot and heavy kisses with Kate.

Kate mouths at your throat, licking a stripe up it as she pumps her fingers in and out, thumb still toying with your clit.

“Oh my god” you moan out, Kate slips another finger into your pussy.

“Feel good?” She giggles at you, having taken her mouth off of your neck to sit back and admire you. You nod your head frantically at her. The familiar pressure of an orgasm already beginning to blossom in your core.

It never takes long with Kate, she essentially has your body committed to memory. Plus it had been so long since the two of you were actually able to bang, you were itching to release for her.

“More please” your hand grabs at Kate’s face. Dark red nails popping against her pale skin. She grins at you before turning and kissing your thumb ever so gently.

“Such good manners, even said please. Someone’s on the nice list this year” she snorts at her own joke before she slides down to lay on her stomach. Her knees are bent, feet in the air. She kicks her feet back and forth as she peppers your thighs with kisses. Kate bishop is about to eat you out and she’s kicking her feet like a school girl writing in her diary.

She plants a hand on one of your hips, anchoring you down so you can’t squirm away from her. Kate begins with licking a fat stripe up your cunt. A guttural, almost animalistic sound claws its way out of your mouth. She smiles into you, you can feel it. Her lips attach to your clit, sucking.

You’re grabbing at her hair, her black tresses weaving themselves between the manicure that she had payed for on your fingers.

Kate lips and sucks your folds, letting her tongue occasionally prod into your hole. Your hips buck into her face. She groans into you, her hand on your hip regaining its leverage as it holds you down again. You tug on Kate’s hair again, it makes her moan into you, causing a chain reaction in your body. You throw your head back against the arm rest of the couch, Kate’s name falling from your lips.

“I know baby, I know” Kate looks up at you, her jaw coated in your slick. You bite your hand in an effort to contain the noise that threatened to push past your lips.

Kate dives back in, licking your pussy with a fire in her belly. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think she was spelling her name with her tongue.

You moan as her tongue dances over your clit.

She’s reaching up to play with your tits.

You’re pulling on her hair, forcing her face into your cunt as your release approaches.

You’re gushing onto Kate’s face, and she’s drinking it up.

She licks you clean through your orgasm, and then she’s back up on her knees. She’s smiling at you like a kid on Christmas morning and this is the best gift she’s ever received.

Kate almost rips off her own underwear. She tosses them towards the trail of clothing you two had left by the tree. You’re catching her drift before she even speaks a word.

You sit up, crashing your lips against hers. Christmas music still plays over her speaker. It’s some new song artist you’ve never really heard of before. It sounds kinda like a regular song you’ve heard a few times before.

Lookin at you got me thinkin Christmas

You grab at Kate’s hips, guiding her to sit over your bare thigh. You do the same as she slides hers under your cunt. As soon as Kate’s center makes contact with your thigh, she’s grinding down on you. She’s humping your leg like a damn dog in heat.

You rock your hips with her, attempting to find a pace with her but Kate is too lost in her own pleasure to want to compromise her speed. You laugh at her a little. Her hair sticks up slightly, her lips are swollen and her blue eyes are blown over by her lust filled pupils.

She’s panting, staring at you with the biggest puppy dog eyes you’ve ever seen. You reach for her pretty little clit while you ride her thigh. Eventually you rock together in unison, your moans drowning out the pop stars song on the speaker. Kate leans forward when you fingers meet her clit. Her sweaty forehead sticking to your shoulder as she pants. She presses a few kisses to your skin there, making you shudder a little.

You can feel Kate soaking your thigh, your ministrations on her clit continuing. You’re so lost in your own rutting and getting Kate off, you almost miss her reaching down off the couch for something. Her hands dangle off the furniture as she searches blindly. You slow your rocking, pulling your fingers away from Kate. She hisses a little before finding what she was looking for.

The reindeer antlers.

She ruts into you a little harder, a grin plastered on her flushed face. Her clit catches on your thigh and she gasps a little. She leans forward, pecking your lips.

She places the antlers on your head.

Kate pulls away, admiring her work.

“My pretty girl” she’s slurs. Her eyes are half lidded and her hair hangs in her face.

You surge forward, kissing her. Your hands grip the sides of her face as you grind down on her thigh, the particular thrust bumping your clit and allowing a moan to slip out of your mouth and into Kate’s.

You don’t even care about the stupid antlers on your head. You want to cum all over Kate’s thigh, so much so that she’ll be cleaning you off of her couch for weeks to come.

Kate’s hands go to your tits, reaching under your bra. She tweaks your nipples a little and you jump and thrust them further into the archers calloused hands.

Kate groans into your mouth. Her humping is becoming sporadic as she chases her high, as do yours. It’s only a matter of a slap to her firm ass and a tug to her hair and Kate’s hips are stuttering to a halt. She soaks your thigh, kissing you all the way through it.

Kate continues fondling your tits, moving her mouth down your neck. She bites, and it’s all over. You’re cumming on her and the couch.

You ride your orgasm for a bit longer, continuing to move your hips until you can’t anymore. You fall forward, your face meeting Kate’s chest. The antlers slid back a little as they hit Kate in the face. She attempts to blow them out of her face like she would a hair.

Kate grabs you tight and leans backwards, laying down the opposite way you were earlier.

Your head’s still on her chest as she rubs your back a little, playing with the hair that touches your back.

You’re both catching your breath. You press a couple kisses to her clothed chest, and then a couple to her neck, and the you’re grabbing her face and kissing her cheeks.

“Okay okay!” She giggles at you before she presses a soft kiss to your lips.

Kate’s Christmas music plays in the background as you both look out one of her windows. It started snowing again.

Kate tears the antlers off your head, tired of them hitting her face.

“I’m really surprised they stayed on” she thinks aloud, still playing with your hair. You snuggle into her deeper, putting your arm over her middle.

“Honestly same, it’s kinda impressive”

“I know!!”

You and Kate both erupt into laughter, because why wouldn’t you. You just had mind blowing sex on her couch and you’re talking about the probability of felt reindeer antlers staying on your head while you rode her thigh.

You sigh, looking up at her again, happy to just be with her in the moment.

“Merry Christmas, Katie”

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TEEHEE ! ! MERRY CHRISTMAS YA FILTHY ANIMALS ✨🎄

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zahri-melitor · 9 months

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I have to say, however bad it gets looking at a Holiday Special list of titles and characters, DC's almost always got SOMETHING there that makes me say "yeah boi!"

For DC's Very Merry Multiverse #1 (2020), it's the fact there's a PREZ RICKARD story.

I know. All things for all folks, people. Hopefully something else catches me as I go. I'm not actually across a lot of the most recent multiverse shenanigans but let's go.

It's a Horrible Life! - Harley Quinn. It's a Wonderful Life retelling for Harley, hopping between universes.

Christmas by Gaslight - Batman. Batman is chasing Eel O'Brien (who just stole a load of toys) and Mr Freeze (who is TRYING to steal the load of toys) and Eel accidentally blows up Victor, causing it to snow across Gotham (and drop toys in the street for all the children of the city).

To Stop the Star-Conqueress! - Teen Justice. I...don't really care about this genderswapped universe, but the concept of Klarienne the Witch Girl keeps making me giggle. Klarienne. KLARIENNE. Anyway the Teen Justice team defeat Starrla doing the space starfish thing. (Also this is VERY mixed up in terms of timeline. How are 'Donald Troy' and 'Laurel Kent' reasonably on the same team? They're based on characters 3 hero generations apart!)

Bizarro Love Holiday - President Superman. This is about the made up holiday "Day of Giving/Day of Receiving", which Bizarro hates as nobody has ever given him a present before. A cute small child decides his characteristic speech patterns are sarcasm and gives him his first present.

Holidays Beyond - Batman Beyond. Terry gets zapped/hallucinates with the bends and does a *sigh* Christmas Carol three ghosts of past, present and future. Dustin Nguyen's baby Bruce is the most adorable thing ever.

Night of the Magi - The League of Shadows. So the League of Shadows is basically a Justice League Dark/Shadowpact lineup? They're out to defend Saturnalia from the Lord of Misrule. Also there's a Ragman origin story in here.

Have Yourself a Bizarro Little Christmas - The Unjustice League of Unamerica. It's SANTA TIME!

Bizarro is trying out Christmas gift giving in Bizarro World but it's not working too well. Then Zanta of the Intergalactic Santa Corps arrives! Zanta is charged with spreading the joy of Christmas...whether people like it or not.

(BTW these elves really need the Elves Union, time to unionise little buddies)

Only, it being Bizarro World, he fails. Sorry, Zanta.

'Twas the Night - Booster Gold. Booster fights Maxwell Lord at his Planet Krypton restaurant (we find out that this was a staged fight to entertain the diners).

Prez Rickard's Magical Sci-Fi Desolate Souls Club Holiday Special - Prez. I'm quietly devastated Beth Ross doesn't appear in this.

Hmmm. I'm...not thrilled at the way Prez is used here in Earth 47? Now being an aficionado of Prez lore, I am able to say that Prez out there selling things on a TV show via performing acts doesn't gel with the original Prez run (where he was all too earnest about solving problems), what I'm going to call the Vertigo Prez universe (where he left the White House and disappeared and became sort of a totem to people), or to the New 52 Prez run (where after being President he became a senator for years/hung around lobbying Congress).

It feels like it's trying to be 70s zany without engaging with ANY of the existing Prez lore. Disappointing.

A Very Lobo Hanukkah - Lobo. Been a while since we had a Lobo story. Lobo's saving the dolphins!

Having now read several decades of 'DC does a Hanukkah story' in the last week, they've definitely evolved over time from 'look at this very base level explanation where we acknowledge not everyone is Christian' to this, which from my understanding is both engaging with traditional texts AND also running around gleefully with an attitude of 'we are allowed to adapt things and tell more complex narratives'. (However I am unsure of whether anyone stopped to think before using the KJV translation of Maccabees here)

#DC Santa read along

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londonfoginacup · 9 months

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If The Fates Allow | zita17 Harry/Louis | Zayn/Liam | 25k | 4 Chapters

A serendipitous meeting led former boy bander and current pop star Harry Styles to fall in love with a boy named Louis nine Christmases ago. Six Christmases ago, that boy left him to raise a baby that wasn’t Harry’s. And, well, Harry never quite got over that. But this year, he gets a second chance at first love. A love letter to second chances, unconventional families, and Christmas in New York. Loosely inspired by James Arthur’s Emily and Dickens' A Christmas Carol featuring Liam, Niall, and Zayn as the ad hoc ghosts of Christmas past, present, and future. The ingredients for this Christmas treat include a wallop of a blizzard, a pinch of angst, a dollop of fluff, several cups of clichés, and The Rockefeller Center skating rink as a supporting character. Title is from Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas. (Frank Sinatra or Judy Garland version, reader's choice. ;)

A longer fic for today's rec! You'll be hooked immediately because you will quickly realise you would die for any one of the characters.

☕️ Pairing Suggestion: This fic is a longer one so start it early in the morning, possibly while feasting on leftover mince pie, which I have learned does not HAVE to have meat in it. The "mince" is apples and raisins and stuff, NOT mince meat! Who knew!!

For more Christmas fic recs: 2022; 2021; 2020;2019;2018;2017

#25dofr2023

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a-reader-and-a-writer · 2 years

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Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas (or Emotional Times at the El Hangar)

Fandom: Top Gun, Top Gun: Maverick, Pete, "Maverick" Mitchell, Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw (NOT RooMav)

Summary: The Christmas Eve after Rooster cut all ties with him was one of the worst of Maverick's life. However, while spending it alone, he discovered something that managed to lift his spirits. Now on another Christmas Eve years later, Rooster discovers the same thing.

Word Count: 1955

TW: Angst, Fluff, Loneliness, Hurt/Comfort, Reconciliation, Christmas, Mentions of Canon Deaths

Notes: Thanks to @green-socks for the genius alternate title 💖

Written for @notroosterbradshaw's #hello december playlist challenge and based on "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" by Judy Garland

Maverick walked through his dimly lit hangar with nothing but a bottle of whiskey for company. It was Christmas Eve and for the first time in his life, he was alone for it. Carol was gone, having joined Goose in whatever came after this life at the beginning of the year. Bradley no longer wanted anything to do with him since Maverick had pulled his papers for the Naval Academy. And Ice was overseas commanding some top-secret mission Maverick wasn’t even supposed to know was taking place. In his desperation and loneliness, he had even considered calling up Penny Benjamin until he remembered that she had just gotten engaged the month before. Maverick had always thought they would find their way back to each other, but it seemed as if he were wrong.

Flipping on the radio to drown out some of the silence, he quickly scanned the different channels hoping to find something decent to listen to. But on Christmas Eve, every station was playing holiday music. Maverick eventually just settled on a random station and went to sit down with his drink.

By the time he finished three-quarters of his bottle, the music had dulled to a faint buzzing in the background that he barely registered. However, for some reason as the music changed, one song caught his attention. Maybe it was because it was the version from his mother’s favorite Christmas movie, or that he remembered dancing to it with Penny under the mistletoe a few years before. But regardless of why, Maverick’s attention was drawn to the radio as Judy Garland sang “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas”.

Closing his eyes, he settled back into his chair and listened as the melancholic tune filled the hangar. However, as the song went on, he froze, the words cutting into him like a knife:

Faithful friends who were near to us

Will be dear to us once more

Someday soon we all will be together

If the fates allow

Maverick grabbed the bottle of whiskey and hurled it at the radio. The glass shattered causing the radio to smoke then burst into flames as the alcohol drenched the electronics within.

“Oh shit!” Maverick sprang to his feet, snatched the fire extinguisher off the wall, and hurried over to the increasingly large fire. Luckily, he was able to put it out before it spread to anything else, though he would need to start looking for a new radio.

Sighing and placing the fire extinguisher on the floor, Mav noticed some of the spilled liquid and extinguisher foam had gotten onto the corner of a nearby box and his heart sank. It was one of the boxes Carole had left to him in her will. One of the boxes he had been unable to open up to this point. But now, there was a chance that if he didn’t, everything within the box would be ruined and that thought was worse than the thought of facing what was inside it.

So, taking a deep breath, Maverick opened the box. When he peered inside, a smile spread across his face even as tears sprung to his eyes. Chuckling softly to himself, he began to unpack the box.

Seventeen years after that night, Maverick found himself back in his hangar for Christmas Eve. Except this time, he wasn’t alone. The open space was filled to excess with the Dagger Squad pilots, their families and friends, Top Gun personnel, and the staff of The Hard Deck. Decorations hung from the ceiling, lights covered the outside of his plane, and holiday music drifted out of the speakers Bob and Fanboy had helped him set up.

Thinking back on how far he had come since that last Christmas in the hangar, Maverick used the arm he had wrapped around Penny’s waist to draw her in even closer to his side and pressed his lips to her temple. Without pausing what she was saying to Hondo, Cyclone, and Warlock, she smiled and squeezed him back.

Glancing around, Maverick took in the new family they had created this past year and he realized his heart hadn’t felt this light in a long time. But suddenly, he noticed he didn’t know where Rooster had gone. Just a minute ago, he was laughing with Bob and Phoenix about something, but now the spot he had been standing in was empty. Scanning the hangar, Mav tried to catch a glimpse of him amongst the crowd, but with no luck. Rooster seemed to have vanished without a trace.

He wouldn’t have left without saying something, would he? Things had still been a little awkward at times since the Dagger mission, but Maverick thought they had gotten to a good place. What if he was wrong and this was just too much for Rooster? What if Maverick was asking too much too fast and scaring him away again? What if–

His eyes finally landed on the Hawaiian shirt-wearing pilot in the very corner of the room, tucked behind a tool chest. Maverick smiled, relief flooding through him as he realized why Rooster was back there. Setting his drink down and whispering to Penny that he’d be right back, he slipped away and wandered over to join his godson.

Rooster didn’t even seem to notice when Maverick walked up. His entire focus was on the wall in front of him, his eyes shining in the decorative lights and a small smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. His eyes drifted between the photos of himself from various Christmases up until he was 17, letters he had written to Santa, pictures he had drawn for the holidays, and various old ornaments. And right in the center was a picture in a crude homemade frame of Goose, Carol, Maverick, and a 2-year-old Bradley.

Softly, Maverick said, “Hey, I was wondering if you would find this stuff. Do you remember some of this stuff?”

Rooster glanced at him for a brief second before turning his attention back to the wall. “Yeah, of course. I just can’t believe you kept it after all of these years.”

“I kept all of it. Your mom left them to me along with a few other boxes of stuff she thought I might want. It took me a long time to be able to open them but I’m so glad I did because that first Christmas after your mom died and we weren’t… well, I’m sure that year was even tougher for you. But having these, remembering the good times, it was the only thing that kept me sane that year. And I’ve put them up every year since. I never lost hope that one day we could work things out and we might spend another Christmas together.”

Chuckling, Rooster shook his head. “You know what? Despite how angry I was and how much I hated you, I think deep down, I did too. After my dad died, you always went above and beyond to make sure I had the best Christmas ever even once I grew up and I… I missed that. It just didn’t ever feel like Christmas without it– without you.”

Maverick nodded as he struggled to keep the emotions bubbling in his chest from spilling out. “I felt the same way about you. It really means a lot that you came tonight.” Picking up a picture of Goose, Carol, and a young Bradley standing by a Christmas tree, he asked, “Do you remember anything about Christmas with your dad?”

“I’m not sure,” Rooster admitted. “I mean, I remember a few things, like him dressed as Santa, or kissing Mom under the mistletoe, or him playing the piano while we all sang Christmas carols. But I don’t know how much of it is a memory, and how much is just from stories or home videos I’ve seen. Most of what I do remember from Christmas was of you and Mom. And a few times, Ice.”

Rooster nodded towards a photo of himself, his mom, Maverick, Iceman and his wife taken a few Christmases before Carol’s death. “I was talking to Sarah earlier and she said that you and Ice used to meet for drinks every Christmas Eve.”

Staring down at the floor, Mav sighed. “Yeah, we did. For 33 years, we only missed a handful of days and that was only because one or both of us were on the other side of the world at the time. Christmas Day was always about family, but Christmas Eve… That was for us. No matter how busy we were or how long it had been since we saw or talked to each other, we always made time for Christmas Eve.

“It started the year we lost your dad. After what happened, I was lost. Goose had been by my side since day one of the Naval Academy and I didn’t know who I was as a pilot, or really as a man, without him. I had been holding it together for the most part, but when Christmas came around…” Maverick chuckled softly. “God, your dad loved Christmas. No matter where we were, on a mission or back home, he somehow always found a way to celebrate. And once you were born, forget it. Carole used to always complain that your house was more decorated than the North Pole itself, but she really loved it just as much as he did. And I was there every year, just another part of the family.

“So, when she took you to spend Christmas Eve with her parents the Christmas after Goose died, I didn’t know what to do with myself. I ended up in the worst bar in town, planning on drinking until I forgot everything, then continuing to drink some more. And that’s when Ice showed up.

“He never told me how he found me or how he knew I needed him. We only said a handful of words to each other the entire time, but just knowing he was there made the night easier. After that, it just became our thing. Our friendship was very different from the one I had with Goose. More serious, more sarcastic, never losing that slight desire to one-up the other. And yet, he became my best friend for over thirty years. But now he’s gone, just like Goose…” Maverick stared at the wall full of all the people he had loved and lost.

“I’m sorry, Mav,” Rooster muttered. “I didn’t know. Today must be pretty hard for you then.”

“Yeah, it is. But just like back then, it helps having people around who care.”

Rooster nodded before examining the wall once more. Without looking at Maverick, he mumbled, “Maybe I could…”

“You could what?” Maverick gently urged him to finish his thought.

Rooster took a deep breath and then turned back to Maverick. “Well, it’s Christmas Eve and we’re having drinks together. Maybe I could step in for Ice the way he stepped in for my dad and make this a yearly thing. I mean, if you wanted.”

Maverick was speechless for a moment, completely taken aback by what his godson was proposing. But once he regained his senses, he placed his hand on Rooster’s shoulder and squeezed it tightly. Trying to not let his voice break, Maverick choked out, “Rooster, I… I can’t think of anything I could want more. Thank you.”

He pulled the other pilot into a tight hug and, to his relief, Rooster returned the gesture. And as the two men who had once been close as family embraced in front of mementos of their past, Maverick heard the first melancholic notes as the next song began to play over his speakers and he smiled.

Taglist:@loverhymeswith, @babblydrabbly, @green-socks, @mayhem24-7forever, @11thstreetvigilante, @the-untamed-soul, @inglourious-imagines, @topguncortez, @footprintsinthesxnd, @airhogger, @notroosterbradshaw, @straightforwardly, @bonnieelizabethparker, @srry-itshockeyszn, @flyinlove, @fandomhopped, @sweetheartlizzie07, @yjwnoot, @wanderdreamer, @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy, @fangirlinc, @sparrows-corner, @therebeccaw, @mads-weasley, @trencher4lyfe, @merlehs, @sunshineflowerchild789, @imjess-themess, @callsign-phoenix, @maggie8002sq, @je-suis-prest-rachel, @tellrock35, @shanimallina87,@mak-32

#hello december playlist challenge #fic #top gun #top gun maverick #top gun: maverick #pete maverick mitchell #pete mitchell #maverick #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #rooster #tom cruise #miles teller #christmas #angst #fluff #hurt/comfort #hurt & comfort #mentions of canon death

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a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all · 2 years

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Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas (or Emotional Times at the El Hangar)

Fandom: Top Gun, Top Gun: Maverick, Pete, "Maverick" Mitchell, Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw (NOT RooMav)

Word Count:1955

TW: Angst, Fluff, Loneliness, Hurt/Comfort, Reconciliation, Christmas, Mentions of Canon Deaths

Notes: Thanks to @green-socks for the genius alternate title 💖

Written for @notroosterbradshaw's #hello december playlist challenge and based on "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" by Judy Garland

Closing his eyes, he settled back into his chair and listened as the melancholic tune filled the hangar. However, as the song went on, he froze, the words cutting into him like a knife:

Faithful friends who were near to us

Will be dear to us once more

Someday soon we all will be together

If the fates allow

Maverick grabbed the bottle of whiskey and hurled it at the radio. The glass shattered causing the radio to smoke then burst into flames as the alcohol drenched the electronics within.

So, taking a deep breath, Maverick opened the box. When he peered inside, a smile spread across his face even as tears sprung to his eyes. Chuckling softly to himself, he began to unpack the box.

Softly, Maverick said, “Hey, I was wondering if you would find this stuff. Do you remember some of this stuff?”

Rooster glanced at him for a brief second before turning his attention back to the wall. “Yeah, of course. I just can’t believe you kept it after all of these years.”

“I’m sorry, Mav,” Rooster muttered. “I didn’t know. Today must be pretty hard for you then.”

“Yeah, it is. But just like back then, it helps having people around who care.”

Rooster nodded before examining the wall once more. Without looking at Maverick, he mumbled, “Maybe I could…”

“You could what?” Maverick gently urged him to finish his thought.

Taglist:@valoraxxx-blog, @m3laniehearts, @autumnleaves1991-blog, @rule107, @vintageleather, @impossiblebagelcowboyfreak, @sugarcoated-lame, @slutforadambanks, @americaarse, @reneki, @ynbutbetter, @imagineadream, @sadpetalsstuff, @salty-thembo, @rachelizabethgraham, @duckandrobin, @queenbbarnes, @grincheveryday, @uselesslyromantic, @chouricojr, @king-of-milf-lovers, @high-fidelities, @shaded-echoes-recs, @dempy, @nik2blog, @dumb-fawkin-bitch, @uselesslyromantic, @choochoo284, @littlebadariell, @blue-aconite, @thescarletknight2014

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returnsandreturns · 1 year

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i was going to make a playlist of songs i took fic titles from as a meme or something but it came out cursed

i will not be putting this on spotify but here are approximately all of the songs i specifically stole lyrics from for daredevil fics

easy to ignore by sixpence none the richer

the luckiest by ben folds

robots by dan mangan

piano man by elton john

from eden by hozier

the washing machine by remember sports

thank you by dido

let's spend the night together by the rolling stones

snails by the format

inches and falling by the format

pretty little head by eliza rickman

joyful girl by ani difranco

good for you by selena gomez

do you hear the people sing? by...idk a les mis cast

hold it in by jukebox the ghost

undeniable you by jukebox the ghost

total eclipse of the heart by bonnie tyler

i put a spell on you by nina simone

get by with a little help by the beatles

poker face by lady gaga

dancing in the dark by bruce springsteen

librarian by my morning jacket

have yourself a merry little christmas

add it up by the violent femmes

more adventurous by rilo kiley

portions for foxes by rilo kiley

the frug by rilo kiley

bulletproof by rilo kiley

reunited by peaches and herb

you belong with me by taylor swift

lover by taylor swift

i wanna boi by pwr bttm

young and beautiful by lana del ray

teenage dream by katy perry

let it snow

you're gonna make me lonesome by bob dylan

4ever by the veronicas

think i wanna die by someone still loves you boris yeltsin

kick drum heart by the avett brothers

rock your body by justin timberlake

white christmas

heat of the moment by asia

pretty girl by hayley kiyoko

heat wave by martha and the vandellas

boy like you by kesha

blow by kesha

tik tok by kesha

handsome devil by the smiths

haircut by pavement

everything you want by vertical horizon

will you still love me tomorrow by carole king

pretty woman by roy orbison

fever by peggy lee

sugar never tasted so good by the white stripes

hotel yorba by the white stripes

girl inform me by the shins

vampires will never hurt you by my chemical romance

nineteen by tegan and sara

can't help falling in love with you by elvis presley

nobody puts baby in the corner by fall out boy

only love by ben howard

like a virgin by madonna

erotica by madonna

let's talk about sex by salt-n-pepa

it's all wrong but it's alright by dolly parton

love isn't free by dolly parton

a special section dedicated to the mountain goats songs:

animal mask

no children

oceanographer's choice

game shows touch our lives

love love love

fault lines

southwood plantation road

#i am procrastinating can you TELL

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jules-has-notes · 11 months

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The Sing-Off, s.4 ep.7 — Finale

And then there were three. But in the spirit of the holiday season, the show brought back all ten groups for one last hurrah. Most of this episode feels more like an old school variety show than a competition, but the individual performances from the three finalists are all excellent.

Group opener

youtube

It can be easy in the modern world to discount the impact that art has on people's lives. But in times of difficulty, we often turn to music for comfort and inspiration. If this version of Michael Jackson's classic anthem doesn't stir something inside you, I don't know what else to say.

Details:

title: Man in the Mirror

original performer: Michael Jackson

written by: Glen Ballard & Siedah Garrett

arranged by: The Sing-Off arrangers

air date: 23 December 2013

My favorite bits:

the gradual layering and building of complexity throughout the arrangement

featuring a few more soloists than previous opening numbers

the eliminated groups entering the upper stage-side boxes and from the audience aisles just in time for the big key change

alternating Emoni's gorgeous riffs and Austin's high "woo"s over the full chorus

ending the season as it began, with everyone together, and a well deserved standing ovation

Trivia:

Austin from Home Free was sick in the final days of the competition, and ended up whistling his vocal parts during rehearsals to preserve his singing voice for filming.

VoicePlay recorded their own version of this song eight years later, which ended up being their send-off video for J.None.

Order of performances

Nick Lachey & Jewel — "It Had To Be You"

AcoUstiKats — "Jingle Bell Rock" bumper

Ten & Shawn Stockman — "Joyful, Joyful" from Sister Act 2

Street Corner Renaissance — "White Christmas" bumper

The Filharmonic — "We Wish You a Merry Christmas" bumper

Pentatonix — "I Need Your Love" by Calvin Harris, feat. Ellie Goulding

Calle Sol — "Feliz Navidad" bumper

Home Free — "I Want Crazy" by Hunter Hayes

98 Degrees — "I'll Be Home For Christmas" by Bing Crosby

Princeton Footnotes — "Deck the Halls" bumper

Vocal Rush & Ben Folds — "Peace on Earth / Little Drummer Boy" by David Bowie & Bing Crosby

Element — "Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree" bumper

VoicePlay — "Jingle Bells" bumper

Ten — "Love On Top" by Beyoncé

Home Free & Jewel — "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" from Meet Me In St. Louis

a cappella 101 tutorial

five eliminated groups with Pat Benetar & Neil Giraldo — "We Belong"

Vocal Rush — "Roar" by Katy Perry

VoicePlay performance

[h/t to voiceplay_randomnness on IG for archiving this clip]

Give these guys forty seconds and a chance to riff on a classic song, and they'll give you three different musical genres that will all have you grooving in your seat.

Details:

title: Jingle Bells (commercial bumper)

original song: traditional American carol, first published as "The One Horse Open Sleigh" (1857)

written by: James Lord Pierpont

arranged by: VoicePlay

air date: 23 December 2013

My favorite bits:

staying true to their name by playing with the beats and harmonies

their outfits — The wardrobe department clearly had so much fun dressing them for every episode, and this is no exception.

Trivia:

VoicePlay have never recorded a traditional version of this song, but they've done two mashups that include it – "Bollywood Jingle Bells" on their 2012 holiday album "Peppermint Winter", and "Mission: Jingle Bells" as a promotional tie-in for the home media release of "Mission Impossible: Fallout" in 2018.

A Cappella 101 segment

youtube

Nick and the other judges may have poked fun at Ben for his vocabulary, but music does have a lot of specific technical terminology and jargon. (Props to Chris Rupp for actually offering one serious answer among the jokes.) A little wordplay never hurt anybody, though.

Tour announcement

youtube

I couldn't find a clip from the broadcast episode, but this promo video seems pretty legitimate.

Group performance

youtube

If there was one consistent theme for the whole season, it could be expressed by one line from this song: "We belong together." Dozens of talented singers coming together to create beautiful harmonies and rhythms are sure to brighten someone's day. This performance certainly puts a smile on my face.

Details:

title: We Belong

original performer: Pat Benetar

written by: David Eric Lowen & Dan Navarro

arranged by: The Sing-Off arrangers

air date: 23 December 2013

My favorite bits:

all five groups starting with traditional a cappella phonations that replicate instrumental sounds

building to a powerful backing chorus

the percussive stomping and clapping in the final section

everybody leaning in for hugs at the end

Trivia:

VoicePlay were a little starstruck performing with one of the biggest pop stars of their childhoods.

Several of the competitors joked on social media during the broadcast about Neil Giraldo bringing an instrument into an explicitly a cappella show.

And the winner is…

youtube

Congratulations, Home Free!

With VoicePlay mostly being in the boxes or in the middle of big groups for this episode, we didn't get a great look at their full outfits, which is a shame. Luckily, they uploaded a bunch of backstage photos to their Facebook page.

VoicePlay's stalwart sound guy Paul and his mom were in the audience for the finale.

Vocal Rush's videographer shot some wandering videos of the post-finale party with competitors and crew members, as well as some friends and family. VoicePlay can be seen mostly in the background of the second video.

#VoicePlay #Honey Larochelle #The Sing-Off #season 4 #live performance #a cappella #music #video #Pat Benetar #long post

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thedaveandkimmershow · 9 months

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I won't lie. I'm pretty sure I equate watching Christmas movies and TV shows with actually doing something at Christmastime. For sure the experience conjures that Christmastime vibe for me.

This year, for whatever reason, Christmas movies and TV shows didn't make it into our Christmastime experience.

Full disclosure: we've been watching Big Bang Theory and The Diplomat. Don't know what to tell you. Our brains are just in that gear this season.

So.

What have we done???

Well, we managed our enduring tradition of mailing our friends and family this years' Collision-Ris Christmas cards along with the 411 on our year. The lovely thing about this tradition is that, for the time that I'm actually writing inside the Christmas card to a specific family, a specific friend, I'm actively thinking about them, about their year, and about our wishes for them in the New Year.

Kimmer's already got a bunch of Christmas baked goodies cooked. Therfore I've already got a bunch of Christmas baked goodies tasting done.

HUZZAH!

Interestingly, this season we picked up the morning habit of setting in motion a YouTube video of a Christmas village with sweet Christmas carols played on piano to soundtrack the beginning of our days. We both decided this year that "In The Bleak Midwinter" is one of our favorite Christmas carols now because of the BBC series "Ghosts". Without that framing, though, we'd never think a song with "bleak" in the title could possibly be a Christmas carol.

I don't know where Kimmer 'n Linzy are with their Christmas shopping... but I'm done as of today. Managed that over the last two-and-a-half weeks, accomplished through a combination of in-store and on-line shopping that did not make me crazy. (More on the specifics after Christmas 😉)

Blogging this month turned into a protracted meditation on Hope and what it means and takes to successfully and sustainably help people in need. Even all the different things "in need" can mean.

Charles Dickens and his book "A Christmas Carol" are on my mind every day as I pick through certain pages of that book for deeper dives.

During our days at home, I've got a coupla soundtracks going: a classic rock Christmas YouTube playlist and a playlist that contains only covers of "Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas" that range from voice and acoustic guitar to full choir and orchestra.

As soon as lights and decorations went up outdoors and in stores this year, I started documenting them in photographs at thrift stores, neighborhoods, and downtowns.

We haven't listened to specific advent podcasts but our morning routine does include podcasts about faith and the implications of faith in the world.

I think our Christmas tree's been up for a weeks. Which is different 'cause we had our original, immortal tree that we bought from Target when Linzy was three... we had that tree up for twenty-two years, only taking it down (along with the tree in our apartment) when we moved back into the house earlier this year.

So yeah. For the first time in twenty-two years we actually had no Christmas tree in our house, lighted or decorated.

That first tree wound up with our friends at the local Value Village, hopefully for the beginning of some other family's Christmas traditions. We're using, instead, the tree from our apartment that's narrower and fits the space better.

And yeah.

We already know it's staying up.

No question about that. It looks perfect right where it is.

It makes our living room work.

So far, the new tree has a string of multicolored lights running up the trunk with at least two strings of white lights circling the tips of the branches, a compromise Kimmer 'n I settled on probably the first year of our marriage as her family was a white Christmas tree lights family and my family was a multicolored Christmas tree lights family. Not exactly the Hatfields and McCoys...

But still a thing to navigate.

Which we continue to do.

As for Christmas tree ornaments?

Yeah. Right now we're starting from scratch with at least three crates of ornaments representing different phases of our family Christmas tree aesthetic.

So.

Do we choose one of those?

Do we conjure something new?

Or do we fashion something in-between.

Three sleeps to go until Christmas Day... we're gonna figure that out right soon.

This recent Saturday, we set up lights around our living room window and around the French doors of our dining room french doors. Also put one set of mesh lights on the bush next to our front door and quickly realized that one is not enough. Too narrow. So it's supplemented with a random string of lights that, just as randomly, works.

Hand to God. I threw it on there... and the whole thing looks of a piece.

Sunday we strung icicle lights along the gutter from above our front door to the edge of the front face of our garage. Which means we no longer look like we're the only ones in the neighborhood NOT celebrating Christmastime.

One December tradition I don't always manage but sometimes I do... I managed this year a visit to the gravesite of my old neighborhood bible school teacher for whom I had not an ounce of respect when I was an A.D.D. grade school kid and for whom I developed a ton of respect as I, you know, grew up. She used to visit my parent's home this time of year to drop off a card and a gift for my birthday and Christmas... and then later when she couldn't get around so well I would walk the couple blocks to her home instead this time of year.

It's a habit, a tradition, that continues to this day (as I can), with flowers and a card at her gravesite.

So yeah. It's been Christmastime for us in a bunch of different ways that suit the season.

With three sleeps until Christmas, one sleep until my birthday, and New Year's just around the corner, the Christmastime vibe is gonna shoot up even more as we head into downtown Seattle tomorrow to do a bit of our own Christmas adventuring and photography which is a thing we used to do a ton with 35mm SLR cameras slung around our necks when we first started dating. Then it's Christmas Eve day and then literally Christmas Eve and then finally Christmas itself... all three days for which we already have plans across 'em. With peace, rest, and relaxation baked into those plans.

So with any luck...

It should be a lovely next few days.

Merry Christmas!

☺️

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bigboxochristmas · 2 years

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Yuletidings 2018, Part One: Undeniable Presents

1. I Believe In Christmas - Yvonne Lyon 2. The Jingle Bell Polka - The Modernaires 3. What Christmas Means To Me - Dane Scozzari and The Human Race 4. Christmas Time Is Here - Willy Porter 5. Silent Night - Kc Daugirdas 6. What's That Sound - JD McPherson 7. Christmas Choo-Choo - Jimmie Davis 8. Dancing Snowflake - Elliot Lawrence 9. Children Go Where I Send Thee - The Sarah Mac Band 10. Reindeer Rock - The Sportsmen 11. Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas - Donovan Raitt 12. Text Me Merry Christmas - Kristen Bell & Straight No Chaser 13. Away In A Manger - NRBQ 14. A Christmas Lullaby - Nerina Pallot 15. Don't Give Me No Goose For Christmas, Grandma - The Korn Kobblers 16. Mr. Pickwick's Christmas (excerpt) - Charles Laughton (1944) 17. The Quantock Carol - Ange Hardy 18. Baby, It's Cold Outside - Samson Wrote 19. O Holy Night - Simon Mulligan

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Another twofer this year. Hey, what’s Christmas without a little polka music, I always say. Well, no, actually I don��t, but in any case, who could resist “The Jingle Bell Polka” from 1947, especially following the sweet sincerity of “I Believe in Christmas” which opens this set?

Other highlights include: a really nice jazz arrangement of Stevie Wonder’s “What Christmas Means to Me” by Dane Scozzari and The Human Race and a gorgeous and creative a cappella arrangement of “Silent Night” by composer and choral director Kc Daugirdas.

I’ve mentioned before how surprisingly many songs there are that associate Christmas with trains, and here we have another one, a driving country/rockabilly number called “Christmas Choo-Choo” by Jimmie Davis from 1953. Also: a bluesy, funky “Children Go Where I Send Thee” by the Sarah Mac Band; the contemporary and very funny “Text Me Merry Christmas” by Kristen Bell with a cappella greats Straight No Chaser and the beautiful, moving “A Christmas Lullaby” by British singer-songwriter Nerina Pallot.

Like Spike Jones & His City Slickers and the Hoosier Hotshots, the Korn Kobblers were a music/comedy band, mostly active during the 1940’s, here presenting us with “Don’t Give Me No Goose for Christmas, Grandma”. I love this excerpt from “Mr. Pickwick’s Christmas” by Charles Dickens, read by the incomparable Charles Laughton; and I guarantee that Samson Wrote’s version of “Baby, It’s Cold Outside” is the only one you will ever need.

The cover art was found online and then titled.

DOWNLOAD

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littlefreya · 4 years

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Santa Baby

Summary: For over a decade, detective Walter Marshall kept a dirty little secret, thinking no one would ever find out about his past. Sadly for him, you are somewhat of a detective yourself.

Challenge prompt: the song Santa Baby.

Pairing: Walter Marshall x reader

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: Some sexy themes but mostly fluffy floof fluff.

A/N: This is for @toomanystoriessolittletime Christmas challenge, which I am sadly a day late with. Remind me to never sign up to challenges. I stumbled upon erotic book covers that looked a lot like Walter (this and this) so decided it’s a funny idea. I never read these books, so I am not mocking it or the artist who drew it. Many thanks to @wondersofdreaming for helping me out. Not beta’d, I own my mistakes.

Please feedback, comment, reblog if you enjoyed reading. 💖

Title: Santa Baby

It’s not that Detective Marshall was the Grinch or anything, it’s just that he couldn’t afford to be merry. With crime levels peaking during that time of the year, and sunlight being scarce, his body ran strictly on caffeine and stale doughnuts.

The temptation to spend Christmas eve sprawled on the worn-out leather sofa in his office was quite strong tonight. But even big hulking bears had their weaknesses, and as exhausted as he was, he dreaded every morning he woke up without your warm body curled up beside him.

With his energy level blinking red, he finally decided to call it a night and drive home. Heavy growling and thundering drums roared within his truck, the extreme Scandinavian black-metal he listened to served as a complete contrast to the soft snow that fell from the sky and quietly piled up on the sides of the road. Pausing at the street-light, he watched the little crystals striving to form on his windshield and melting just as quickly against the heat of the car.

For a single moment, all the terrors of the night diminished by the little flame that was the reminiscent of you - his little firefly who led him through the darkness, tender as snow and wild as fire. Accelerating just a tad, he imagined you’d be asleep by the time he’d get there, and if not, Walter hoped to at least be in your good graces.

Luckily, ther warm orange hues beaming through the windows assured him that you were still very much awake, and he couldn’t help but spare one of his rare smiles.

Muffled tunes of a familiar song played beyond the door, the bass vibrating through the polished wooden flooring and the walls. Slow and sensual like honey rolling off one’s finger, the jazzy beats filled the spacious house along with the sweetest scent of crushed peppercorn and red berries. Smiling wider, he held onto the doorframe and kicked off his heavy boots.

“Pet?” he called and followed into the living room, hearing you humming along with the lyrics.

“Santa baby, just slip a Sable under the tree for me.”

Oh, he was indeed in your good graces.

Sitting on your knees with your ankles hunched below your ass, you wore a velvety Santa hat and a sheer, red nighty finished by fake white fur that outlined your breasts. Your hands held a shiny green present over your thighs, and you gave him one of those coy looks that made him want to fall before you and pledge himself as your servant.

Instead, he crooked an eyebrow and unzipped his thick winter coat, carelessly discarding it on the floor and making his way toward you.

“Have you been an awful good girl?”

Sleeves rolled up; he crossed his muscular arms together while towering over you. His cobalt eyes drank in your sight, trying to decide what to do with you first. The scent of musky sweat mingled with dark cologne wafted over you within seconds, making your chest rise and sink in a primal instinct.

“Oh, I’m definitely going down your chimney tonight,” he growled upon your reaction to his presence and sucked in his bottom lip with growing hunger.

“At least three times,” you dared him in return and then casually lowered your gaze to the box perched on your lap.

The large man caught on the hint and carefully knelt before you. One of his hands reached to stroke his beard while his mind rummaged to figure out what surprise hid behind the shiny package.

“Got something for me over there?” he wondered with a playful beam, “I thought we’re not doing presents until tomorrow morning.”

“Just a little teaser,” you answered. Your eyes shone brighter than the large decorated tree that stood at the corner of the living room.

Being a detective, Walter could practically smell the mischief that drenched every teeny hair on your body. As usual, his naughty vixen was up to no good. It always made him laugh how bad you were in trying to surprise him, which worked in his favour. Walter hated surprises.

Intrigued, he snatched the gift from your hands and shook it against his ear for shy second before beginning to unwrap it. His eyes briefly scrutinised yours, darkening, smokey with lust while he tore at the chrome paper and absentmindedly threw pieces of green wrapping all over the living room.

You watched carefully, your cheeks rounding and filling, your teeth flashing with wickedness upon seeing the colour drain from his rugged face.

“Where…”

Walter paused and swallowed the lump in his throat. Fingers oily with sweat and knuckles turning white, dug into the object held in his hand.

“How did you find this?!”

The snort you’ve been trying to hold back for the last couple of minutes finally made its way out, followed by a fit of uncontrollable giggles that made you fall to your back with your hand held over your torso.

Walter, on the other hand, was anything but amused. He always feared the day someone would dig up his dirtiest secret.

It was more than a decade ago when he was struggling to pay his tuition to the police academy that Walter found an easy and quick way to make money. As a British immigrant who barely had friends and blended with the crowd, he made the mistake of thinking no one will ever know about his short-lived modelling career for cheesy erotic novels.

He should have known better. He might have been a professional police detective, but you had a skill for uncovering the truth.

“Where did you find this?” Walter repeated with a frown, clenching his jaw and waving the colorful book in the air.

Pausing your giggles merely for a second, you took a gander at the cover, focusing on the image of your dear husband’s open white shirt. There he was, the man you knew as a brooding, black-sweater wearing grump, lost in some green meadow with a half-naked chick. A deep dramatic gaze crisped his younger face, his nose inhaling the scent of her hair, and his hand laid flat upon her juicy rump.

Oh the drama!

You tried to speak, but all that came out of your mouth was an uncontrollable peal of chuckles. The corny title of the book didn’t help either; his fiery love rod.

Walter sulked and suddenly shuffled to hover above you, one hand snapped at your wrist before the other discarded the book onto your sternum and joined in restraining your other arm. Led purely by instinct, your legs spread to straddle his wide waist and wrapped around his muscular ass.

Staring at your strong, intimidating husband, the laughter rolling from your lips slowly died down, yet the smile was still smeared between your cheeks, especially once you felt his groin pressing into yours.

“Woman!” the big bear growled at you, “I am not going to ask you more than once, where on earth did you bloody find this?”

“The second-hand bookstore,” you answered and glanced at the book lying upon your chest, “was looking for something raunchy to read when suddenly I noticed a familiar face.” You explained and then swallowed the dryness in your throat.

“At first I thought I was hallucinating with all them Christmas carols eating into my brain, but then when I took a closer peek, I recognised my husband’s ‘fuck me’ stare.”

Walter felt a burn rising in his throat and swerving to tingle at his bristly cheeks. If there ever was a moment when he regretted a life decision, that moment was now. He knew he’d never hear the end of it from you. You were dauntless and unyielding as the ocean, one of the reasons why he was utterly in love with you.

Nostrils flaring, he tightened the grasp around your wrists and rolled his hips into yours, eliciting a small moan from your quivering lips. The thick bulge in his groin hardened at the calling of the hot, wet patch in your panties.

“Name your terms, woman.”

“You are going to read it to me,” you answered without even overthinking and gestured toward the book with your chin. “Every. night. before. bedtime. I want you to hold me in your big strong arms and read me a chapter from ‘his fiery love rod’, or else…”

“Or else?...”

The fire from the mental suddenly illuminated your face, causing dark shadows to form over your irises and the hollows below your brows. “Your friends at the MPD are going to find out about this one,” you paused, “and the 12 others that you made.”

Taken back by your words, Walter gulped, his fingers became moist around your wrists as sheer horror seeped into his mind.

“You... you know about the others?”

You nodded at him and then snaked your legs around the back of his thighs to cage him in your grasp like a fickle dryad growing her roots around a helpless wanderer. With his attention faltering, you twisted your hips and rolled the two of you so you were on top. Fingers lacing into his, you pinned him down and leered over him with cascading triumph.

“12 books, all under our Christmas tree, detective, so you better be good to me tonight and satisfy all my needs.”

Adam apple bobbing up and down, Walter watched you with a mixture of awe and agitation. There was nothing he hated more than losing control, but damn if he didn’t adore his wicked queen, especially when you were in a joyous mood, which, as he found, tended to be contagious. The moments in which the grouchy detective felt at peace were rare to non-existent. It was only in the embrace of your thighs that he thought that for a minute, everything is going to be okay.

Noticing the muscles of his jaw somewhat relax, you reached for the Christmas hat and slipped it off your head, placing it atop of his curly mess instead. Your hands held firmly onto Walter’s shoulders, and with a careful twist, you flipped the two of you over once again and shoved him down your torso while blissfully chanting.

“Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight, hurry down the chimney tonight, hurry toniiiiiiiiiiight.”

*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it, ideas or parts it and claiming it as your own

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Disclaimer: I don’t own Night Hunter/Nomis or Walter Marshall

#henry cavill #StephsChristmasWritingChallenge #walter marshall x reader #henry cavill x reader #walter marshall

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aiweirdness · 4 years

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Alternate Rudolphs

I’ve been experimenting with generating Christmas carols using machine learning algorithms of various sizes. The smallest AIs, trained from scratch on a set of carols, tended to get confused about what exactly the carols are celebrating. GPT-2, larger and with some internet pretraining… still got confused. Its carol about Rudolph “the All-Gracious King of All the Earth” was unsettling enough before Joe Zieja’s dramatic reading and The Forever Now’s eerily calm arrangement.

Now in 2020 we have GPT-3, trained on so much of the internet that my challenge is now to stop it from simply repeating carols that it has memorized. Give it just three example carols and it will respond with another from the internet, which is technically exactly what it was rewarded for during training. To get it to generate new carols, I discovered I could give it three existing carols (I chose Hark! The Herald Angels Sing (“bruise in us the serpent’s head”), All My Heart This Night Rejoices (“sin away and for aye full atonement maketh”), and Run Run Rudolph (“and away went Rudolph a whizzing like a merry-go-round”)), plus just the title of a nonexistent carol. It would generate, for example:

Mild is Rudolph

Mild is Rudolph's image in the snow He has a shiny nose and knows how to cozy-up-nose He has a little red nose and tiny little hooves He persuaded a mischievous infant to go straight to sleep

Goodness, how downy is Rudolph's hide He has, oh his forehead, so plump and smooth and divine He has a little black snout and tiny little hooves Benevolence makes foolish young children go straight to sleep

Shy is Rudolph's figure when he's near He has a twinkle, oh in his eye, and he's kind of lean He has a bright shiny nose, and tiny little hooves He can make any child go straight to sleep

The AI has seen the existing Rudolph lore many times, however, so it would tend to drift back into singing Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. Sometimes it would only drift back partway.

The Carol of the Rudolphs

Rudolf the red-nosed reindeer had a very shiny nose. He kept it polished nice and clean with a white piece of soap. All of the other reindeer used to laugh and joke, and call him names like ugly, Zonker, Dunderhead. But their laughter stopped when they saw him get him speed on down the runway.

For he could change the course of the wind with his nose, and people called him Very Bright.

Rudolf, the darting reindeer knew the trail through the woods, even in the fog he could spot his mark. Eeee-merry, eeee-merry Christmas, Yes, that is his song.

He could steer a craftsman's plane, Could lead a camel home out of a trance. His tender little bat-like ears could hear a whisper, from ten miles away.

He could roar like a lion. He could fly, gliding with ease. His little rusty wheel, he would use to help create the most wonderful wheel of cheese.

Yes, Rudolf, the cherry nosed reindeer, could do all of these things and more, But the only thing his nose could not do was smell. Delectable Waffles Who knows what's in Rudolph's nose? Only Rudolph knows – And Rudolph won't tell!

The “sing the praises of Rudolph” directive seems to come through very well, especially if I give it an appropriate title.

All Hail to Rudolph

All hail to Rudolph The legend of Christmas The most famous reindeer of all

All hail to Rudolph Happy all the year From everyone we see

Heroes come and heroes go But Rudolph stays forevermore Oh boys and girls of every age Can't you hear the sleigh bells ringing?

Oh look! There's Santa and Parson Brown Defying the laws of time and space Now prepare yourself and your family my boy Prepare to get your Christmas fix

Now Rudolph goes smashing through the roof Just like a power lift with a candy-cane moustache And the deer's nose is dead-on, deadly accurate Pow! Now it's Rudolph versus Mars

All hail this joyful night All hail the night folks sing All hail to Rudolph The legend of Christmas The most famous reindeer of all

O Come Rudolph, Come

O Come Rudolph, Come Ye Faithful Oh come, come holly, clad in white, Oh come ye faithful. Oh come aloud! Oh come and join our choir, Oh make a joyful noise till earth and heaven ring.

Caw caw caw oh, caw caw caw oh, Caw holly, Caw plum this Christmas. Oh, caw caw caw, oh caw oh, caw oh oh oh, oh.

Even if I give it a title like “Rudolph is the Worst” it knows that the story of Rudolph ends with redemption. (That is, unless it goes into truly awful territory, there being a lot of ways of being the Worst in its internet training data.)

Rudolph is The Worst Reindeer

Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer Was a stubborn old reindeer. Never would you find him Participating in Christmas. Never entered his head, Of decorating a sleigh.

Then along came Bumbleboo One foggy Christmas Eve, And he said, "Rudolph with your nose so bright, Won't you guide my sleigh tonight?"

Then all the other reindeer, Gathered round to admiere him, And they nodded their heads, As they shouted out in cheer, "Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer You'll go down in history."

Other times it seemed to be going for counting songs and, like GPT-2, is weird when it counts things. Here my title prompt was “Rudolph of”.

Rudolph of Orange (Medley)

There are 15 different colors, That you see within the shirt. There is a booklet, Which identifies each one.

You’re looking at a number one, While the kids are knocking on your door. Then we started laughing, When we realized that Rudolph was near!

Courtesy of the index theory, There are only twenty eight! July is the eighth, And that’s when Christmas is!

REFRAIN:

And 1 wrapped a nose (Time now for teasing and for fun) 2 pictures, horns a cap, 3 hooves and legs and feet, 4 antlers sweeming! 5 eyes, 6 nostrils, 7 buttons, zipper, 8 bolts and bumpers, 9 flashing lights on his cap, 10 red nose, 11 furry chin, 12 rubsy ears, 13 plastic eyes, 14 laughing so joyously. 15 steps and a twisted reindeer train! 16 frosted incislotes, 17 dreamily red bow, 18 nose light, 19 velco on reins, 20 candy apple red. Two reindeer he’ll need to pull him through! It’ll be commercial Christmas, For years to come, When Rudolph gets his new reindeer team.

Supporters get bonus content: A few more carols (including “O Little Rudolph” which involves ghosts and ghouls somehow).

#neural networks #gpt-3 #carols #christmas carols #christmas songs #rudolph #rudolph of orange #incislotes #sweeming #bumbleboo

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lostinwildflowers · 3 years

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Hello and welcome to Birch's 12 Days of Cheer! This is my collaboration for the end of 2021! I don't partake in any fall events, really, so this is my big to-do! If you would like to join in on this event, please read the rules below!

Please read these rules CAREFULLY!

1. You do NOT have to be a mutual of mine! I'm welcoming anyone and everyone to join this event!

2. All ages are welcomed to join this! This is an SFW blog, so all content being attributed to this event must be suitable for everyone!

3. MAXIMUM WORD LENGTH IS 1000 WORDS! Yes, you read that right! This is a drabble event! I want to keep things short, so that way things are easier to complete on time!

4. If LONGER THAN 500 WORDS, PLEASE INCLUDE A READMORE. ALSO, ALL SUBMISSIONS MUST BE CHARACTER X READER! NO OCS OR CHARACTER X CHARACTER!

5. To make things interesting, you MUST include a classic(or not so classic) Christmas song into your drabble! You can choose to incorporate this however you like! It can be the title, the song playing in the background, a lyric as a line said, whatever you want!

6. I am allowing repeat characters / songs, but not together. For example: I will not be taking 2 submissions of Levi + Santa Baby.

7. The fandoms I am currently allowing for this collaboration are Haikyuu!!, My Hero Academia, and Attack on Titan. If there is interest, I might allow JJK, but for now, just these three.

8. There is a TIME FRAME for you to post your submissions!!! I ask that you choose one of the 12 days listed below to post your drabbles(you don't have to specifically fit the trope)! I will be taking entries for this until DECEMBER 1ST!!!

ALL ENTRIES MUST BE POSTED ANY TIME BETWEEN DECEMBER 14-25!!! I WILL NOT BE ACCEPTING ANY LATE ENTRIES, NO EXCEPTIONS.

Masterlist

Day 1(Dec 14) - Mistletoe

-Reese(@devildreamers): Iwaizumi + Deck the Halls -> "Deck the Halls"

Day 2(Dec 15) - Snowball Fights

- Senn(@sennsational): Suna + White Winter Hymnal -> "White Winter Hymnal"

Day 3(Dec 16) - Ice Skating

- Robin(@do-arson): Momo + Merry Little Christmas -> "Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas"

Day 4(Dec 17) - Hot Chocolate

-Jessica(@anxi-aashi): Atsumu + Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree -> "Smooth Lines and Chocolate Rhymes"

Day 5(Dec 18) - Snuggling Because It's Cold

-Amaterasu(@euphoric-author): Oikawa + All I Want For Christmas Is You -> "All I Want For Christmas Is You"

Day 6(Dec 19) - Stuck at Work on Christmas

-Ducky(@duckymcdoorknob): Daichi + Merry Christmas Darling -> "Merry Christmas, Darling"

Day 7(Dec 20) - Gift Giving

-Kris(@koushisun): Iwaizumi + I'll Be Home For Christmas -> "Where the Love Light Gleams"

Day 8(Dec 21) - Christmas Caroling

-Al(@alto-march-of-death): Iida + Like It's Christmas -> "Caroling Like It's Christmas"

Day 9(Dec 22) - Decorating the Tree

Day 10(Dec 23) - Baking / Crafts

-Ana(@justanawolf): Osamu + Baby It's Cold Outside -> "Cookie and Kisses"

Day 11(Dec 24) - Holiday Proposals

-Me! : Levi + Colder Weather -> "Colder Weather"

Day 12(Dec 25) - Basic Love

-Ducky(@duckymcdoorknob): Izuku + Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas -> "Merry and Bright"

This is what I need from those of you who want to join!

1. The character and fandom you would like to be writing for!

2. The Christmas song you will include in your drabble!

3. The day you will post your fic!

4. Anything else you want to say or me to know!

Thank you so much for reading this far and if you want to join in! I look forward to seeing your submissions!

#Birch's 12 Days of Cheer #haikyuu #attack on titan #my hero academia #haikyuu x reader #attack on titan x reader #my hero academia x reader #haikyuu x you #attack on titan x you #my hero academia x you #haikyuu x y/n #my hero academia x y/n #attack on titan x y/n #haikyuu!!#shingeki no kyojin #boku no hero academia

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buckys-other-punk · 4 years

Text

Christmas Lies

Pairing: Chris Evans x Assistant!Reader

Request: I was thinking of Sebastian Stan/Chris Evans x (assistant) reader where reader is originally from another country and is living alone and is going to celebrate the holidays and made up an excuse that she's celebrating with someone and is in the middle of prepping her Christmas eve dinner and was caught red handed that she's celebrating alone?😅😅

Word Count: 1.8K

Warnings: cussing and some cliche fluff (the title may fool you but yes this is fluff)

A/N: Hello my loves! Wooo another request, I hope I did this justice and sorry if this sucks. I am a little late for a Christmas fic but hey its still the Christmas season right? Anyways here is a cute Christmas fic for y’all (Merry late Christmas, Happy Holidays, and Happy New Years!) As always please lemme know if you wanna be tagged in my future works and feedback is very much appreciated. This is unedited so don’t mind those mistakes.

Tis the season right? Yeah the season for stress and anxiety. A season where people had to find the perfect gifts for one another and hope that their gifts weren’t sold out. Luckily for you, you didn’t have to worry about that. Moving to the United States from your home country over two years ago it seemed pretty lonely, but more freeing than ever. You didn’t have any relatives that lived in America, but occasionally some would fly over to visit you. Sadly this year you were alone for the holidays. Your parents won a vacation to the Bahamas for the holidays and your older brother was expecting his first born anytime now. The rest of your family had various holiday plans and wanted to celebrate in your home country. So yeah, this year you were going to enjoy your own company.

“So do you have any plans for Thursday night?” Chris, your boss asked you.

“What’s happening Thursday?” you asked looking at him with confusion.

“Y/N, it’s Christmas Eve!” He exclaimed with a big smile.

“Oh fuck. Umm, well not really.” you shrugged.

“Well you already know my plans. I gotta go to that party my brother wants me to attend.” Chris huffed out.

“Speaking of your brother, I got a call from him asking you to bring a date to said party.” you said to the man.

“Why don’t you come with me.” he said with a smirk.

This wasn’t the first time Chris has asked you to come with him to parties. Hell he asked you every time he was invited to one, but you always turned him down. He was your boss for crying out loud, wouldn’t it seem inappropriate to bring your assistant as your date? But, you weren’t gonna lie that the man was attractive, sweet, and you may or may not have a crush on him. He’s fucking Chris Evans. Shaking your head trying to think of a cover up of your actual plans for the night, which was nothing, and rejecting his offer just because well you don’t even know.

“You know what, my cousin from my home country is actually visiting for a bit before she heads off to see her boyfriend in Hawaii.” you lied telling the man. Why were you lying again? Right, saving yourself from embarrassment.

“Oh, well that’s nice of her to stop by. I bet you’re gonna make a big feast.” Chris mumbled as he sipped his cup of coffee.

“You know I’m not gonna quit Y/N, you’re gonna have to go on a date with me someday.” he teased nodding your way.

“Yeah whatever.” you breathed out while rolling your eyes focusing back on your work.

*Christmas Eve*

You were glad that the nearest grocery store was still open for you to grab some last minute ingredients for your dinner. Making a random stew recipe you found online that sounded pretty good and some brownies for dessert. Right when you got home you started making your brownies, from scratch, and once the batter was complete you put it into a tray and in the oven. You went to your room to change into your black Nike spandex shorts (since you haven’t done laundry and this was the only thing that was clean) and an oversized sweatshirt you stole from your brother before you moved to America. You weren’t trying to impress anyone since you were again alone for the holidays. Heading to the kitchen you began cutting the vegetables for your stew and boiling the broth when you heard your doorbell ring.

“Please don’t be carolers. Please don’t be carolers.” you muttered to yourself crossing your fingers as you walked over to the door. When you opened the door you saw your boss standing in front of you wearing a black suit, looking handsome as fuck. “Chris, don’t you look nice. What are you doing here?” you said without any expression to the man.

“Y/N, you’re looking festive without pants.” he smirked, staring at you up and down.

“Fuck off. I’m wearing shorts underneath. Seriously, why are you here?” you asked again.

“I ditched my brother to hang out with you and your cousin.” he said smiling.

“Oh thats so nice of you, but you didn’t have to come all this way.” you said trying to change the subject.

“What, that's ridiculous. I also forgot to give you your Christmas present.” he stated showing the nicely wrapped box that he hid behind his back. “Where is your cousin by the way?” Chris asked, trying to peek around your apartment.

“Oh, Mel? She’s in my room video chatting with her parents.” you lied pointing behind you.

“Aren’t you gonna let me in?” he asked.

“Yeah, sorry. Where are my manners.” you said moving out of the way for him to enter your home.

“Thanks.” he smiled as he stepped in again looking around your place. “Um, Y/N.” he said.

“Yeah, what’s up?” you asked as you shut the door behind you.

“Something smells like it's burning.” he stated looking back at you.

“Shit my brownies!!” you yelled as you ran to your kitchen. You put on your oven mitts and took out the burnt dessert and placed it onto your countertop. “Damn it!” you exclaimed.

“You forgot to put a timer on, didn't you.” Chris chuckled as he walked towards the kitchen bar island.

“Shut up.” you huffed shaking your head.

“Hey Y/N.” he started, drawing your attention back to him and not the burnt disaster. “You said your cousin was here right?” he asked.

“Yeah, why?” you replied, not really paying attention to him placing the burnt tray in the trash ans cute veggies in a pot.

“Well two things. One, why is your dinner table set up with only one plate. And two, your bedroom light is off.” he said pointing at the table behind him.

“Fuck.” you whispered underneath your breath as you looked up at the man. “Maybe Mel fell asleep?” you said with a shrug.

“You lied!” he exclaimed looking at you. “You sneaky shit! Why did you lie to me?”

“Because you’re my boss and I can.” you sassily said back with your hands on your hips.

“Y/N.” he said more sternly.

“Fine.” you said as you raised your hands in defeat. You walked around the counter towards your couch motioning Chris to follow you, which he did. “I lied because I didn’t want to go with you to the party.”

“Why not?” he asked, crossing his arms.

“Because. I don’t know. Isn’t it a little inappropriate that your date to a fancy party is your assistant?” you sheepishly asked averting your eyes from the man that sat next to you.

“Y/N, that’s a bullshit reason and you know it.” he cursed at you. “Tell me the truth.”

“Fine!” you said, taking a deep breath. “Honestly Chris, I kinda have a crush on you and I didn’t want to look stupid in front of your celebrity friends.” you shrugged looking away at the man.

“Now that wasn’t so hard was it?” he said quietly and he gently grabbed your chin to make you look up at him. “I’m glad you told me the truth Y/N.”

“What no snarky remark? No cheesy comeback?” you questioned.

“Nope.” he said with a smile.

“That’s it?” you asked looking into his greenish blue eyes.

“Yup that's it.” he smirked, staring at you.

“Hold up. I just confessed to you, my boss, that I have a crush on you and you’re not goin-” you started, but was cut off when you felt lips crash into yours. As Chris pulled away your eyes were still closed and your mind was in disbelief. Slowly opening your eyes, you stared at the man in front of you.

“Umm..did that..What just?” you were slightly panicking. Chris noted the panic. So he leaned in again and kissed you. This time you were aware that your boss was kissing you. Holy shit your boss, no fuck that CHRIS EVANS IS KISSING YOU! His eyes were closed and his hands were placed at your waist. As he began to pull away, you put your arms around his neck pulling him back towards you to deepen the kiss. The two of you pulled away, your foreheads still pressed together as you looked into each others eyes.

“Wait is that your Christmas tree?” Chris teased, still staring at you as he pointed at the small tree on the ground next to your record player. You leaned back and turned your head to look at your tree.

“Yeah, what’s wrong with it?” you asked, looking back at him.

“It’s kinda pathetic.” he joked, placing his arm over the back of your couch.

“Hey! That was the first tree I bought when I moved over here!” you yelled in defense playfully punching his arm.

“It’s cute is what I meant to say.” he chuckled, rubbing his arm.

“Whatever.” you said shaking your head. “Are we gonna talk about that kiss?” you asked.

“Why don’t you open your present first?” he replied.

“You're ignoring my question, but fine.” you huffed out a bit irritated. “Wait, did you wrap this?” you asked, looking at gift wrapped in green paper.

“Actually you did a while back.” he said rubbing the back of his head. “I was hoping you forgot about it and luckily you did.” Chris added chuckling.

“I don’t deserve whatever this is Chris. I didn’t even get you anything!” you exclaimed with wide eyes.

“That kiss was plenty enough.” he grinned towards you.

“Shut up, I’m serious.” you sighed and looked down at the gift.

“Stop moping and just open the damn thing.” Chris said, lifting your chin up and pointed towards the present.

“Alright fine.” you stated back, slowly undoing the elegant wrapping you worked so hard on. As you opened the present it was a box that said ‘Thank you for helping me get my shit together!’ You laughed at the note looking back at Chris.

“Open the box.” he smiled trying to hold in his excitement. You opened the box and inside was filled with confetti paper and a card at the center. You took the card out saying ‘I kind of sort of maybe like you a lot’ with a heart underneath. You looked back at the man who nodded signaling you to open the card. Inside of the card it said ‘will you go out with me? P.s. here’s $100 for you. No pressure;)’ A hundred dollar bill was taped at the bottom of the card.

“Is the money a bribe?” you asked.

“Nah, it's just for reassurance.” he answered chuckling. You laughed and took out the bill from the card.

“I went through all this work, wrapping a present beautifully, just to get one hundred dollars in return.” you said seriously.

“Well, if you don’t like the present I can always take it back.” he said upset.

“Chris I’m messing with you.” you smiled as you pulled him close to you placing a kiss on his lips. “I would love to go out with you.” you said.

“Oh thank god!” Chris exhaled pulling you close into a hug.

“I better be getting more money outta this relationship!” you teased as you were engulfed in the man’s embrace feeling the vibrations of his laughter.

A/N: This was so cliche i hate it lol. Anyways did you like this late Christmas fic? lemme know! Again if you wanna be tagged in future fics, have any requests or just wanna chat hit me up!

Tags: @lostinthoughtsandfeelings @sebtheromanianprince @aquabrie @who-the-hell-is-sebastianstan @princess76179 @anbrax5553 @wintersoldierissucharide @caplanbuckybarnes @miraclesoflove @kitkatd7 @saiyanprincessswanie @fandomsandxfiles @hailmary-yramliah @coffeebooksandfandom @thefallenbibliophilequote

^please lemme know if you wanna be added/removed for future tags or if i forgot you^

#chris evans x reader #Chris Evans #chris x reader #chris evans fanfiction #reader insert #reader x chris evans #reader x chris #chris evans fluff

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watermelonlipstick · 4 years

Text

Dreams, Chapter 3

If you haven’t read this series before, you might want to start on Chapter 1, or check out the Dreams Masterlist! Here’s the series description:

When Dean dies for good leaving Sam and his girlfriend (the reader) behind, they must figure out how to carry on without him. Alone, reeling, and unsure what to do next, trying to honor Dean’s memory and follow their hearts gets even more complicated when their nightmares become dreams that feel a little too real.

Title: Dreams, Chapter 3

Pairing: (past) Dean Winchester x Reader, (eventual) Sam Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 2344

Summary: It’s Christmas in Wisconsin for Sam and the reader.

Warnings: angst (sensing a theme here), alcohol, slow burn

Christmas Eve was a Thursday, which meant you were working. You’d predicted it would be slow, but there were big chunks of time where no one was in the bar at all. Christmas carols on the radio helped pass the time, and you drank a little more of the almost-coquito you’d thrown together in the back at the beginning of the shift than you needed to. It reminded you of your aunt and the way she’d smell of coconut through Boxing Day every year when you were growing up; welcome nostalgia you could tolerate like pressing a thumb into a bruise and distracted you from the evisceration of thinking of Dean. The day shift had left the bar understocked, so Sam spent a good amount of time going up and down the stairs refilling refrigerators and cutting fruit for drinks. Around 10 or 11 the people who didn’t want to wrap up the night when their in-laws went home straggled in, a handful of regulars that you generally liked but had a tendency to get a little rowdy when left alone together. It didn’t help that they showed up a few drinks in.

The merriment was infectious, and it was sweet to hear grown men proud of the gifts they’d gotten their loved ones. One even brought a few bottles of homemade maple syrup to give to the others, sliding one sheepishly across the bar to you. You were pouring out a round of coquito when Sam came up from the basement with a towel tossed over his shoulder.

“Everything should be good,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair. He hadn’t cut it in months and the ends fell gracefully around his shoulders. A piece fell oddly across his forehead and you reflexively fixed it for him.

“What did you two get each other?” a regular, Steve, asked with a relaxed finger pointing between you and Sam. His cheeks were ruddy with whiskey and winter air.

“Oh. I—uh, we don’t really do gifts,” Sam offered placatingly.

“Man, where did you find this girl? Listens to classic rock, drives a stick shift, and doesn’t ‘do gifts’?” another, Joe, added.

“You better be buying her some presents or someone else will.” Jake, a customer you’d always felt safe around since he tossed out a rude guy for you a month back, chimed in.

You and Sam had never explicitly said that you were together. People just assumed, and it was easier to go along with it than explain the truth, especially because you didn’t look similar enough to be siblings and you still couldn’t shake your need to cling to him from time to time. It was almost never an issue aside from periodic mild teasing. This Christmas talk was a departure from the non-explanations you and Sam usually gave and you found yourself waiting for a cue on where to go. Sam seemed to be having the same thought, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

You spoke before the moment had a chance to become too pregnant. “You know how hard it is to buy presents for a guy who doesn’t like having stuff? If he buys me something, I’ll have to get him something too!” You hoped it sounded smooth, your lying out of practice in the months since you’d had a cover on a hunt. Sam smirked gratefully at you.

Joe shook his head wistfully. “Seriously, where did you find her?”

“She’s pretty great, isn’t she?” Sam’s voice sounded sort of soft around the edges, almost like he was tired but not quite. When you looked up at him, that pebble of self-consciousness you’d felt at the hardware flipped in your stomach again and you glanced away in favor of a one-armed hug you intended to look affectionate. Sam did the same, encompassing your entire shoulder with his hand.

When you drove home that night, warm and full of coquito, Sam played Christmas carols.

“I think we should do gifts.”

It was the first thing you thought when you woke up, and you said it into Sam’s chest as you laid there before you opened your eyes. You could tell from the rhythm of his breathing that he wasn’t all the way asleep.

“Hmm?”

“I think we should do gifts. We should really do Christmas if we’re going to do it, and that means presents. What do you think?”

You felt as much as you saw out of the corner of your drowsy eyes that Sam raised his unpinned arm to rub the sleep out of his. “Mmm, okay? I mean if that’s what you want.”

“Thank you,” you said as you nestled deeper into him.

“‘S already Christmas though.” Sleep pulled Sam’s words together like taffy.

“It can be goofy stuff; I just think we should open presents under a tree and everything. Seems like the kind of thing we should do, you know? Like trying to be normal.” You couldn’t bear saying out loud what you meant, that Dean would’ve wanted presents and stockings and eggnog and Santa hats and a big roast if he could’ve, to fall asleep after watching the stars glitter off of falling snow.

Sam heard anyway.

“You’re right,” Sam murmured. He rubbed your upper arm absentmindedly.

“I’ll wake you back up when the bathroom’s free,” you offered, carefully rolling over him to get out of the bed. He nodded with closed eyes and flopped over onto his stomach.

About an hour later, a wet haired Sam slid into the Impala’s driver side and rubbed his hands together to warm them up. You could tell from the puffiness around his eyes and his overcompensating casual tone that he’d been crying. He set his phone to pipe Your Inner Fish through the stereo and backed down the driveway over snow tamped down over the last week.

It had been years since you’d gone Christmas shopping, as much as this could be considered Christmas shopping. The town you’d settled in had exactly 7 businesses on a tiny main street, including 1 small inn, a grocery store, the hardware store, a coffee shop (the most reliable internet in town, much faster than your place) and 3 different places to get a burger. You met Sam in the grocery store after grabbing what you wanted from next door in hardware, catching him just as he came out carrying a bag with a long pipe of wrapping paper stretching far past the top. When you left, there were only two other cars in the parking lot grabbing their own last-minute things.

You wrapped your presents on the bed. It wasn’t like riding a bike as you’d hoped it would be, and your sloppy corners started you down a mental spiral. What a completely asinine thing, wrapping hardware store presents to put under a stolen tree. This wasn’t the Rockwell painting you wanted to present as sacrifice to Dean’s memory. It was cheap and stupid, a sloppy high school production when Dean deserved Broadway. He always had. As much as the three of you had never really done Christmas, Dean knew how to make something special while maintaining the air of not caring. You remembered waking up on his made-up anniversaries: six months from the first time you kissed, three years since he realized he loved you (three years minus 53 days before he said anything), 14 months since you’d figured out how to put a gun back together in the dark. Even in the most podunk little towns he’d find gorgeous bouquets and put together great meals in tiny kitchenettes; drive miles away to pick up a cake for Sam’s birthday or pepper motel rooms with festive streamers and silly string. Two quick, hard breaths through your nose to collect yourself and you finished the wrapping. That would have to be good enough.

Sam was crouched in front of the fireplace with a bellows, a plucky little fire kicking into gear with his help. “All yours,” you called out, grateful your voice didn’t crack.

“Thanks. It’ll only be a second.”

He was right, and came back to you on the couch in only a few minutes with two wrapped bundles. You shyly handed him what you’d wrapped and took his.

“Uh, Merry Christmas I guess,” Sam said. You noticed the edge of discomfort in his voice and were sickly grateful not to be alone in your tentativeness as you popped open the scotch tape holding the paper on the rectangular package. Before you’d uncovered it, Sam had his first gift unwrapped.

“Nice! They had these at the hardware store?” he asked, snapping open the clamshell package on the cheap purple noise-cancelling earbuds you’d picked up.

“I’m sure they’ll sound like they were made underwater, but I figured you could hide them pretty easily if you wanted to wear them at work, listen to your podcasts while you restock or whatever.”

“That’s a really good idea.” He looked down at the headphones considerately for a beat.

You pulled the paper off your present to reveal a notebook and two ballpoint pens. It had a leatherette flexible plastic cover that felt smooth under your fingertips and was about the size of a standard hardcover novel. You opened it to see inside, and a few photos dropped out.

“I just—you didn’t have any—I can take them back if you want,” Sam stammered, but you heard him as if through those checkout-aisle headphones while your eyes blurred. These were pictures you hadn’t seen for years. The one on top of the loose stack in your lap was outside Bobby’s house. It felt like a lifetime ago, leaning over the railing of the small porch to kiss Dean as he stood on the ground in a sweaty t-shirt covered in engine grease. Under that was one you remembered used to be the background of an old phone, where you, Sam, and Dean huddled together in a booth at some bar you’d forgotten the name of in Montana that had girls dressed up as mermaids swim around in big tanks, part of the same theme that explained the blue fishbowl drink partly out of frame in Dean’s hands. There was one you didn’t recall with you and Dean stretched out on a nondescript motel couch, his arm protectively covering you as you coiled up into his side, both clearly asleep from the closed eyes and slightly parted lips. The last was a picture you hadn’t seen since the last time you went to Jody’s house; it had touched you then to see it hanging up on the wall, you carrying Dean piggyback while Sam clutched his knees laughing. It was the same day Claire had turned 16 and you had no idea why you’d needed to convince Dean you could carry him, but the whole thing had ended up with everyone rolling on the ground, grabbing at laugh-opened rib pains for what felt like blissful hours.

You weren’t surprised at the silent tears that were pouring gently down your face, but wiped at them harshly with your sleeve so they wouldn’t drip. “Sam—” you croaked. “I don’t…I didn’t—thank you. How did you find these?”

“They had an instant photo printer at the grocery store. I’ve had a flash drive with some stuff on it for a while.”

You passed through each picture again, studying them like the gospel. It was almost hard to match the photos to the memories, memories having been replayed and multiplied and color-saturated in your mind over and over again, too big to fit into these little pieces of cardstock. But Dean was so beautiful, and you all looked so happy.

“It’s supposed to help to write about how you’re feeling, so I thought…” Sam trailed off.

“It’s perfect. I—thank you, Sam.” You met his eyes, stormy blue-green and taking on an amber reflection off of the fire. He looked nervous and almost guilty, like he had miscalculated and hurt you. Carefully slipping the photos back into the notebook, you set it on the table like it was made of crystal and threw your arms around Sam to tuck into him, knowing you were crying through his shirt but unable to stop. You realized you were murmuring thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou into the crook of his neck at the same time you felt the wetness of his tears onto your shoulder. Pulling him in tighter, you slunk back into the arm of the couch behind you. Sam slotted into the curve of your body, wrapping around your torso with powerful, gentle arms. His hair was silken when you began to stroke it, feeling his wracking sobs against your chest. It was impossible to gauge the amount of time it took for both of you to stop crying, skin slick and hot against each other on the old couch as your bodies hardened together like a mold. You felt dried out and sore and wouldn’t have pulled away from Sam if you’d had a gun to your head.

“Man, and we were doing so well,” you hummed into Sam’s hair.

“Were we?” Sam asked, and it was all you could do to laugh. Sam laughed too, the emotional and physical fatigue of it blending between you in the air. He adjusted his arm and you could feel the span of his hand across your lower back. The two of you sat there for a few more moments before you gathered up enough courage to let go of him.

“Want to open the other one?”

Sam nodded against your chest and slowly extricated himself, running a hand through his messed-up hair and rubbing his neck as he reached for the other present you’d gotten him. He tore through the paper unceremoniously and smiled down at the shoe repair glue and new boot laces. “You saw they split, didn’t you?”

You smiled back at him. “Would’ve just gotten you a new pair of boots but, you know, late notice. Maybe this’ll buy you some time.”

He handed you his second gift from the coffee table. Inside the foil-adorned wrapping paper were three bags of gummy worms.

Continue to Dreams, Chapter 4

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lovelylogans · 4 years

Text

i wish i knew how (your eyes are like starlight now)

warnings: vampires (blood drinking mentioned), alcohol consumption, food mentions, cuddling, kissing, death mentions, if i’ve missed any please let me know!

pairing: logan/patton

word count: 6,003

notes: for @fangirltothefullest for our discord server’s secret santa! prompted with “Preferably logan-centric and fluffy! Logicality would be great! Logince would also be good. Maybe some cute cuddles by a fireplace?” title is from “baby it’s cold outside!” the idea of vampires being able to eat red food comes from a book i remember reading as a kid, but i cannot place the title, so if anyone knows it please let me know!

Hot chocolate with peppermint schnapps and Bailey’s, it turns out, is a particularly adept calmative.

It’s made the world go hazy and lovely and beautiful, and that’s even before Logan acknowledges the way his eyes are half-lidded and he’s leaning his head a bit more against the side of his wingback armchair than he would if he were entirely sober.

Logan narrows his eyes down at his mug, the one Roman had wheel-thrown and painted him with the chemical illustration of the molecular construction of caffeine on it, which is half-drained, the whipped cream and marshmallows melted, the peppermint stick meant to stir already losing its red stripes. Logan plucks it from the mug and sticks it into his mouth, crunching it, wriggling in the armchair to get more comfortably seated, and to get a better view.

Roman, Janus, Virgil, and Patton have long since been occupied with a board game; Remus left to do whatever it is that Remus does at night, probably screaming profanities at random passerby, so it’s just the five of them left. The Christmas party’s been winding down slowly for the past hour or so, the fireplace still crackling but burning lower and lower, their hot chocolate supply depleted, and Roman and Virgil’s fits of competitiveness losing fervor as the moon creeps higher and higher in the sky. The white of the waxing moon peeks out against the clouds that distribute the fat, fluffy flakes falling from the sky.

The snow catches the light of the Christmas lights hung outside the house (goodness, hadn’t that been a trying day) so the snow gleams in technicolor reflection, the rest of the world lit by the hazy orange glow of the street lamps. It is very beautiful, and Logan, in an unusually sentimental fit that he would tell himself in the morning was brought on by the alcohol, is incredibly grateful to be alive, at this precise moment, that allows him the company of such wonderful friends in such a beautiful world.

What a statistically improbable event they all are. What an outright scientifically impossible group they all make—a vampire, a set of twins that turned out to be a banshee and a siren, a selkie, and two humans. Three years ago Logan would have scoffed at the idea of any sort of supernatural, mythical humanoid, much less even suspected he’d meet them. And now he is in love with one, and is best friends with the others, and his life is so strange, so odd, so wonderful.

Logan comes back into himself when Roman cries out in protest, making Logan’s ears ring unpleasantly, as Janus crows in victory, holding the longest road card aloft, the dark gray seal-skin on his face gleaming pearlescent in the firelight.

“Cheater!” Roman accuses, his voice still maintaining that double-pitch—a high keen layered over Roman’s typically pleasant baritone—that always makes something in Logan’s head throb.

“Just because you didn’t strategize your road properly,” Janus gloats, pointing—and yes, the yellow road winding around the edge of Catan is decidedly longer than the red road circling over itself in the middle.

All the while, Virgil is muttering darkly about how useless the Largest Army card has been, tossing it aside, and Patton looks up at Logan, dark eyes glinting brightly in amusement, freckles speckled across his face like constellations, trying his best to hide his smile around the specially-ordered red-dominant candy canes he’s been eating all season, his fangs gleaming white, freed from the fake teeth Patton usually wears to pass as human, his lips tinged artificially red.

Logan feels even warmer all over at the sight of him.

Patton’s eyes get even brighter, and he flashes a sweet smile at Logan before he turns back to the board game and breaks up the squabbling with patient declarations of “Everyone did a really great job!” and “The fun’s what matters, right?” and being so stubborn and relentless in his optimism and platitudes that Janus and Roman relent and grumble grudging “good game”s at each other.

Patton’s far more patient than the pair of them—which makes sense, as he’s been practicing at it since the seventeenth century, according to all their estimations surrounding the first edition of Human Understanding he’d acquired the month after he’d been turned, in a fit of uncharacteristically dark humor—so he always wins out when it comes to digging in his heels and cheerfully going about something with the consistency of the little bird and the diamond mountain.

Roman ducks out to sulk for a moment, under the excuse of adjusting Patton’s painstakingly maintained gramophone he’d bought in the 1920s—he still has the early prototype phonograph he bought in the 1870s, but that one is even more painstakingly preserved in the rooms full of obsolete technologies, clothes, and knick-knacks that Patton’s accrued and hoarded throughout the years like a magpie—and the sound of Bing Crosby crackles to life in the next room, crooning “White Christmas,” the snapping of the fire providing unintentionally harmonious percussion. Logan wouldn’t be surprised if this is one of the original vinyls, too—Patton’s got loads of vintage music from artists Logan had never even heard of before.

Janus bows out, next, content to allow the high of his victory usher him out the door. He even allows Patton to fuss over ensuring his coat is warm enough to protect him from the snow, considering he’s wearing his sealskin coat and not a proper winter coat, and then even lets him fret over Janus staying moisturized, despite the fact that both Janus and Logan have attempted to explain that Janus’ version of moisturized and the human version of moisturized are quite different in execution, one being smearing lotion all over oneself and the other consisting of sealing himself into his skin and taking a dip in the nearest ocean.

Logan mentally backtracks over the previous sentence and immediately blames Patton for the pun, and simultaneously promises himself to never utter it in Patton’s presence. Patton still brings up the time Logan had accidentally mentioned Patton sinking his teeth into something, and can hardly finish recounting it before bursting into giggles. He is fortunate he is so adorable, otherwise it would irk Logan to no end. As it is, when it happens, Logan can’t summon up anything stronger than resigned affection.

He’s in love with a vampire who is currently fretting over a selkie with the exact air of a concerned father. It’s a fate he’s all too eagerly accepted.

Janus usually gets snappy about being mother-henned, so Logan suspects that either the Bailey’s has done a number on him, or the Christmas sentimentality is getting to him.

And, considering that Janus had one mug of mulled wine with dinner, Logan has a fairly good guess as to which is the root cause—especially taking into consideration Janus allows Patton to hug him goodbye. Janus wishes him a happy Christmas in a tone that is not quite as drawlingly dramatic as usual.

By then, the gramophone is playing a new song, a soprano prettily warbling “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas,” and Roman seems to be over his discontent over losing because he joins in, singing pleasantly rather than shrieking—he usually leaves the wailing to the banshee in the family, it’s just that the whole “drawing men to their deaths” aspect of his voice emerges when his temper flares—and Logan swallows down the sudden lump in his throat at the sound of it.

Of course, Roman’s voice is supernaturally exquisite, but there’s something different about it now; Roman had tried enchanting Logan, exactly once, after Logan had pestered him for weeks out of scientific curiosity, so he can say with certainty that this isn’t like the captivating sound that put him in a stupor with the speed and subtlety of being hit by a train, but it’s like someone has captured the flame in the fireplace and tempered it to a temperature that a human could stand, the cozy sensation of being beside a fire rather than the fire itself, and set it directly inside his heart.

You’re happy, a sober corner of his brain says dryly. You know this, you’re happy.

He is.

He is stupidly, incandescently, absolutely happy.

He will blame the dryness of the room from the fire for the sudden wetness in his eyes when Virgil joins in, usually quite shy about singing, but it is almost equally as pleasant as Roman’s, even though Virgil’s vocal chords (and the rest of Virgil) were entirely, completely, mortally human.

They are excellent, the pair of them. Not just their voices, but them, as people—they are excellent. Logan is exceptionally glad to have made their companionship.

Logan takes a deep breath, downs the last half of his hot chocolate, and launches himself from his armchair, perhaps a bit wobblier than he was at the start of the night, and Roman laughs without halting his song, wrapping an arm around Logan’s shoulder to steady him.

He can only join in for the last part of the song, which is probably for the best; Logan supposes his voice is tolerable enough, but it surely cannot compare to a siren, or to Virgil’s voice, rumbling like thunder. Also, he does not want to make a fool of himself, and surely singing more Christmas carols than necessary while not entirely sober would be a surefire way to do that.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he sees Patton watching the three of them, a fond expression on his face, even if there is a flash of sudden gloom that passes over his face as the three of them sing “ Through the years we all will be together, if the fates allow,” and Logan frowns to himself, noting it.

Intellectually, he is aware of the various burdens an immortal life forces upon its receiver; Patton has hundreds if not thousands of sketchings and, when the technology became available, photographs of people he had known through the hundreds of years of his life, painstakingly filed away.

Intellectually, he is aware that Patton was the source of unexpected windfalls that had been bestowed on Virgil’s family throughout the years, the reason Virgil and his siblings could afford to go to college; it is only after he and Virgil knew who Patton truly was that they found the reason behind the luck that struck his family once a generation. Patton had once been Virgil’s great-great-great-grandmother Violetta’s dearest friend, and she his; he’s been anonymously helping the descendants of all his friends in a similar manner for centuries.

Intellectually. He is aware that Patton fears the day that he will lose them all, and he will be left alone, unchanged, eternally in his late twenties, as he has been for centuries.

It is different to be intellectually aware of something, and to remember seeing Patton show Virgil the portrait he had personally painted of Violetta and choke back his tears because he’d missed her so much, and meeting and befriending Virgil had been a bit like having a piece of her back in his life again, and getting to know you has been such a gift, such a blessing. She would have adored you, as I do, and then Virgil had hugged him, and Patton had gotten so overcome he had not been able to say much else.

It is this memory plucking at his heartstrings that sends him stumbling in Patton’s direction.

Patton moves so quickly that Logan’s eyes can’t track it; one moment he was watching the three of them, the next he’s caught Logan around the waist, smiling down at him.

“Hi,” Patton says, and Logan takes a half-step closer to wrap his arms around Patton’s neck.

“Hello,” Logan says. He is about to attempt to say something that is emotionally adept, he really is, except Patton’s skin is smooth and cold under his fingers, and his lips are still tinged red, and Patton’s eyes dart down to Logan’s lips and then looks him in the eye and then he smiles, and any particularly subtle ideas about how to probe Patton’s emotions or perhaps to get him to stop thinking about the curse of bearing witness to the passage of time entirely flee his mind.

He barely has enough time to hope that Patton’s mind is similarly empty before Patton meets him halfway, pressing his lips against Logan’s; even though they’ve been together for years, Logan still isn’t quite used to the chill of Patton’s lips meeting his own. It makes him shiver every time.

Patton is always so sweet, so soft—Logan thinks only part of that is that he is a vampire afraid of hurting his comparatively delicate human lover, and the majority of it is because Patton strives to be sweet and soft as a default state of being, because he is a person who understands that kindness is not a state of being but constantly, consciously making mindful choices to be kind—and his kisses reflect that about him.

He almost always tastes of mint, because Logan had established early that he was perfectly fine with Patton drinking blood, he would not be facing secondary exposure to someone else’s blood, absolutely not, he holds a less than zero amount of desire to become an amateur hematologist through taste, and so Patton was incredibly scrupulous about brushing his teeth after consuming the blood he’d procured through a source of his in blood donation.

Patton tastes of peppermint now, and Logan sighs into the kiss, lips parting, and he feels the slightest, teasing pinprick of fangs against that sends a thrill zipping down his spine, and—

“And that’s our cue to leave!” Roman bellows with good humor; Logan turns to scowl at him over his shoulder anyways.

“Oh, you don’t have to—” Patton begins, brow creasing ever so slightly.

“Yeah, we do,” Virgil says, an edge of a laugh in his voice. “Besides, us humans have to sleep.”

Patton usually forgets about this; he doesn’t necessarily need to sleep, but he can. Logan knows of at least three decade-long naps that Patton’s taken; he has next to no memories of the foundation of the United States, because he was snoozing for the vast majority of the buildup to the Revolutionary War and the establishment of the government afterwards.

He is, though, content to lie in a bed he’d bought for Logan’s use as Logan dozes throughout the night; sometimes Logan wakes up to Patton propped up on an elbow, looking at him with an expression in his eyes that is a bizarre mixture of fondness and jealousy.

Patton nods and says wisely, “Or else Santa won’t come to your house.”

Virgil snorts, “Yeah, that’s why.”

“I’ll have you know that Nikolass’ a close personal friend of mine,” Patton sniffs, “and it is a very long way from Gemile.”

“North Pole,” Virgil corrects. “Santa lives at the North Pole.”

“Mm,” Patton says neutrally.

“Patton, did you really know St. Nick?” Roman demands.

“No, no, you’re right,” Patton sighs, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. “Far too late for you mortals. Off to bed, then, and don’t forget to leave him some börek!”

“ Milk and cookies,” Virgil says, he and Roman now wearing twin expressions of desperate curiosity. Logan, who knows when St. Nick supposedly lived, keeps silent.

“He prefers börek,” Patton says, his nose twitching, a telltale sign he’s holding in laughter. “It’s traditional, where he’s from. Leave him a note that old Patton remembers him, it’ll earn you börek points!”

“Brownie points,” Virgil corrects again, “Patton, did you actually know Santa Claus—”

Patton bursts into giggles, unable to hold up the ruse for very long.

“The figure we know today as St. Nicholas of Myra lived in the 300s,” Logan explains. “He predates Patton by thirteen hundred years, approximately.”

“I can’t believe you fell for that!” Patton cackles, eyes bright, making him look as young as his face presents him to be.

“Yeah, okay,” Virgil says, as Patton pulls Roman into a hug, “you say that like it’s entirely unbelievable when you’ve shown us paintings of you and other completely unreal people like Maid Marian—”

“Aw, I miss her,” Patton says.

“— sorry if Santa Claus is too far out of the realm of belief from the vampire, ” Virgil continues to grumble, even as Patton folds him into a hug, too.

“He has also known Marie Curie,” Logan says, still unable to quite believe it even though he’s practically memorized the missives she had sent Patton. “Also, I may have elevated my threshold of belief to include vampires, selkies, sirens, and banshees, but I absolutely will not be budged to start believing in childhood myths.”

He pins Patton with a look. “And I am still unconvinced that you knew Robin Hood.”

“Well, he wasn’t actually called that then — ” Patton begins.

“Nope!” Roman practically yells. “Nope, Logan, you are not going to take the fact that I am one degree separated from the Merry Men, I refuse to listen to you debate this again, Sheriff of Not-letting-Roman-have-this-one-thing-ingham—”

“All of my research suggests the people you knew were imitators—” Logan begins again.

“As a Christmas gift to me, shut up,” Roman says.

“Roman,” Patton scolds.

“ Please shut up,” Roman amends politely—only his tone is polite, as the words themselves and the eyeroll that accompanies them are not particularly courteous.

Virgil distracts him quite handily by physically turning Roman around and nudging him toward the door.

Patton follows after them, Logan a few steps behind.

“All right, well, be safe going home,” Patton says, beginning on his spiel as Roman and Virgil pull on gloves and scarves. “Are you calling for a ride?”

“Walking,” Virgil says.

Patton makes a discomfited noise. “In this cold?”

“We barely live three blocks away, Ed-worry Cullen,” Roman says, and flaps his arms to show off his new peacoat, a gift from Janus. “We’re all bundled up.”

“All right, well,” Patton says, clearly still fretting, “Text message me when you get home?”

“Just text works,” Logan murmurs, but he can empathize with Patton’s difficulty with memorizing certain terms; it’s just that Patton’s are mostly technological in nature, and Logan’s are slang. Back when they first met, Patton still had the occasional slip-up and called texts telegrams.

“Text me,” Patton corrects himself, smiling at Logan and squeezing his hand in silent thanks before turning his attention back to Roman and Virgil.

“We will,” Virgil says, and amends, “or at least, I will,” because Roman was notorious for promising he’d text when he got home only to wake up to fifteen missed calls from Patton because he’d forgotten to do so.

“Good,” Patton says with a sigh of relief, then, “All right, bring it in!”

Logan releases Patton’s hand so Patton can step forward and hug Roman and Virgil simultaneously; Roman pulls a face at him over Patton’s shoulder, likely still stung by Logan’s accurate theory about the validity of the so-called Merry Men Patton had been acquainted with.

Though Logan is the correct one, Patton may believe that those people were the original Robin Hood and his band of thieves, but he was most likely deceived considering the earliest myths of Robin Hood originated two hundred years prior to Patton’s birth, even if Patton protests that the dates of the origin of many myths during his human life are incorrectly cited—

Logan presses his lips together in an expression that is not reciprocating the face that Roman pulled at him. Logan is correct; he can rest easily knowing this. And perhaps Christmas is not the proper time to bring up this oft-rehashed debate.

Even though Logan is right. It should not be oft-rehashed because he is right.

“Merry Christmas, Brainy Swan,” Roman says, stepping forward to give Logan a hug that Logan would describe as brotherly, except he knows Roman’s brother and this is far too tame, even if there is more back-slapping and hair ruffling than Logan would prefer.

“I am not anything like Isabella Swan,” he begins—this is an oft-rehashed debate, too, but this one is far more teasing in nature; Logan, at least, has the retort of pulling up any image of a particularly hideous mermaid mock-up or ugly fish and showing it to him with the (Virgil-taught) response “This you?”—and Roman rolls his eyes.

“Stop denying the Twilight renaissance, Lucy Weste- nerd -a,” Roman says, and reaches out to pluck at the patched elbow of Logan’s tweed jacket, even as he’s hugging Patton goodbye. “You’re dressed Victorian enough—”

“Patton isn’t anything like Dracula,” Logan disputes this time, because obviously Patton would never drink Logan’s blood or turn him without his consent. He straightens his waistcoat, and is about to reach into his pocket, grab his phone, and show Roman the image of a blobfish he has saved for a special occasion to tell him that this is clearly his long-lost twin, not Remus.

He may or may not have rehearsed this with Virgil to ensure a devastating effect.

“Can we please go before you two spend all of Christmas Eve talking about vampire franchises,” Virgil groans.

“Yeah, as fun as that is, most nights, this is kind of a special night!” Patton says brightly. If it were anyone else, Logan would wonder if he should attempt to scan his tone for sarcasm, but Patton probably does think it’s fun.

Virgil steps forward to hug Logan next; a one-armed hug around the shoulders, quick. It’s what they’re both best with, really; abrupt, swift affection that can be moved on from in a tidy manner.

“Merry Christmas, L,” Virgil says, then he steps forward to allow Patton to give him a more substantial hug; Patton wraps his arms around Virgil’s shoulders, squeezing him tight, his eyes shuttering for a brief moment, his face becoming gaunt.

“Merry Christmas, Pat,” Virgil says in a very quiet voice.

“Merry Christmas, V,” Patton says, his voice equally quiet and a touch strained.

Something deep in Logan aches at the sight of them before the look on Patton’s is wiped clean, so abruptly it’s almost as if Logan’s imagined it, and Patton inhales deeply and lets go of Virgil.

“Text me,” Patton reminds them, as Roman and Virgil step off the front stoop.

“I will,” Virgil promises.

Roman’s face splits into a grin, and he calls back, “Merry Christmas, Elena Gil-boring!”

Logan’s head whips around, and he opens his mouth to respond—he isn’t sure with what— and the world surrounding him spins, and he’s weightless, airborne, and as suddenly as it started, it’s stopped. He sees Patton smile at him before Logan closes his eyes, the world still spinning in a way that is distinctly unpleasant.

“Okay?” Patton asks, gently touching Logan’s shoulder.

“Mm. Dizzy.” Logan takes in a deep breath through his nose—the smoke off the fire, the lingering scents of their dinner and desserts, peppermint—and releases it, shaky, through his mouth, before he chances opening his eyes again.

“Sorry,” Patton says, guilt in his tone.

“It’s all right,” Logan says, and he smirks a little. “I’m sure Roman would have said something to interrupt the Yuletide peace if you hadn’t.”

“Yes, Roman would have,” Patton teases, amused, before he blurs for a moment and comes into focus just as quickly, Logan’s empty mug in his hands, one of his many fluffy blankets over his arm—Patton is almost always eager to use his preternatural speed when they are alone in his home. “Would you like another?”

Logan evaluates it; he does not drink very often, but it is a holiday, and he has eaten a sufficient amount and kept well-hydrated today. Though, he does not usually get too vertiginous when Patton moves him quickly, unless they are moving a great distance, he does have reason to suspect that the alcohol is the reason for it today. He’ll have to mention it to Patton; so long as he avoids that, and keeps it to this last mug, he should not face any unfortunate aftereffects in the morning.

“Yes, please,” he decides.

Patton kisses his temple and casts the blanket in front of the fireplace with great fanfare, fluffing it up so that it is at optimum comfort levels, before he unfolds another with an equal amount of fanfare, wrapping it around Logan’s shoulders. Logan smiles at him in thanks, as he knows the blanket is likely for his benefit—Patton frets about Logan getting too cold when they cuddle due to their disparate temperatures—and there’s a rush of artificial wind as Patton zooms to the kitchen.

Logan wraps the blanket around himself a little more securely as he settles in front of the fire, taking a moment to adjust the wood with the poker, listening to the popping crackle that allows him to lean back in time to watch the spray of sparks leap up the chimney. There’s the sound of a needle being lifted off a vinyl, the vinyl being replaced, and the needle lowered back down; Patton has switched them to an album of orchestral performances of Christmas songs.

Another rush of wind, then, a soft tap of fingers at the top of his head. Logan tilts his head back to look up at him.

Patton’s smiling down at him, eyes reflecting the last remaining sparks, his dark eyes catching the light like stars. He cradles the mug in his hand, and, despite the great speed at which he had moved, he has not spilled a drop.

“Here you are, love.”

“Thank you, dear,” Logan says, placing the poker back where it’s meant to be before he accepts the mug. Patton takes the time to settle in beside him, setting a tray on the hearth, before he wraps his shoulders in the fluffy blanket, too.

Logan smiles a little at the sight of the tray. One half would pass as a traditional, human charcuterie board, if perhaps a bit heavier on jellies than most. The other half is crowded with sectioned blood oranges, a small bowl of pomegranate seeds, raspberries, cherries, and strawberries, all foods as red as Patton’s punny Christmas sweater. It says Merry Chrismath! on it, with math formulas sketched out to form the shape of a Christmas tree, which Patton had purchased specifically because the corners of Logan’s lips had turned up at the sight of it in the store.

Patton takes a sip from his own mug—from the smell of it, mulled wine—and sighs in satisfaction.

“This feels very human, doesn’t it?” Patton asks Logan, as if he is asking for Logan’s approval, and in all honesty he probably is; Patton has been undead for so long that the memories of his human life are dim and distant. “Sitting in front of the fire, eating snacks. About to cuddle.”

It does feel rather human—all he has to do is pretend that his boyfriend is a red food enthusiast, rather than, for whatever reason, red foods being passable enough to a vampire that they are the only human foods he can stomach.

He doesn’t waste time pretending, though. Why should he, when his reality is stranger than fiction?

Logan presses his cheek to Patton’s shoulder, for a moment.

“I’m perfectly satisfied with this being a shared vampire-human experience,” Logan says, deliberately misunderstanding why Patton is asking. He likes that Patton is a vampire; it is part of him, it is why they have been able to meet. He does not understand why Patton sometimes seems to act like Logan would prefer a human boyfriend, because he wouldn’t. He prefers Patton.

“Well,” Patton says, his voice almost unbearably soft. “I suppose I’m all right with that too.”

Logan reaches for his own mug and takes a sip, before, once again, pressing his cheek against Patton’s shoulder in a way that presses his hair against Patton’s face.

Patton huffs softly in amusement. “Are you trying to get me to smell you?”

“I find it interesting,” Logan says, and he does; the amount of data Patton can deduce by one smell is absolutely astounding. He has plans for a more specific experiment, which he will ask Patton to conduct on a day he is bored and amenable to such suggestions.

Patton hesitates, just for a little bit, before Logan scoots closer, about to tilt so that some of his more major arteries will be closer to his nose.

“All right, then, for Christmas.”

Patton presses his nose against Logan’s hair, kissing the crown of his head, before he inhales, slowly, curiously, like someone trying to place what’s cooking in a kitchen without being able to see what is being prepared.

“And?” Logan asks.

“Mm,” Patton hums, getting his thoughts in order, before he inhales again, this time as if he is a sommelier inhaling the scent of a fine vintage. “Well, you, my favorite smell in the whole world.”

Logan feels very warm in a way that has nothing to do with the blanket, Patton’s arm around his shoulders, or the fire before them.

“You washed your hair this morning—oh, this is a new shampoo!”

“You didn’t like the other one, you thought it was too chemical-y,” Logan says. “I finished it yesterday.”

“Ooh, thank you,” Patton says. “Not that you didn’t smell lovely without the overtone of whatever phoenix is supposed to smell like, but I like this one much better—ooh, lemongrass? You’re spoiling me.”

Logan grins into Patton’s collarbone; really, only Patton would think that a new shampoo scent was spoiling.

“And the usual soap smell,” Patton says. “Sweat, skin, deodorant, your aftershave. You walked by someone smoking today; tobacco and herbal cigarettes, that’s unusual, those were way more common back in the forties—damiana, blackberry leaf, rose, and,” another inhale, “hibiscus and mullein. Gosh, the thought of those takes me back.”

Logan is about to ask—perhaps a past acquaintance or friend smoked something similar in those days—but Patton moves on without ruminating on it further, which makes Logan feel an odd prick of pride; nostalgia has been one of Patton’s greatest strengths, true, but also one of his greatest downfalls.

“Did you have tacos for lunch yesterday? I can smell the spicy salsa still.”

“You cannot,” Logan says, still stunned, even after years, at the amount of things Patton can detect. He’s probably smelling the capsaicin in his salsa, for one, but Patton can also smell certain chemicals the body produces: illness, for example, but also things like cortisol and oxytocin.

“Mhm, makes my nose itch a little. And I can smell the stuff we had at the party, and for dinner last night and breakfast this morning, so it wouldn’t be as fun for you if I listed that off...” Another inhale. “Oh, and I can tell you’re a little tipsy.”

“I think that’s probably why I got dizzy when you ran with me earlier.”

Patton kisses his forehead as a form of apology. “And. You’re happy.”

Logan pulls back just enough, just so he can look Patton in the eyes.

There are a great many supposed vampire stories that claim to know the color of a vampire’s eyes; blood red, commonly, but yellow or gold were popular ideas, as well. Silver, sometimes. Almost always, the presumed color was a color not found in nature.

Patton’s eyes are so dark a brown they are practically black, the iris near indistinguishable from his pupil unless someone was shining a direct light at them. They were the same color when he was human, Patton thinks; he has an illustration of his mother hidden away upstairs, and they are identical in shape and shade. They are beautiful, and captivating, and full of the warmth and love that are so perfectly, wonderfully Patton.

“I hope you don’t have to smell me to know that,” Logan says, and then, fumblingly, “I mean—I am aware you can smell my oxytocin, but I hope you know that I am without relying on that sense. That I am happy, I mean. Because I am. I do not tell you how you make me feel enough and I feel the need to do so now and articulate it clearly. You make me incandescently, impeccably happy. I am deeply in love with you. I could not have imagined the way my life is now, but I do not want it any other way, because you have made my life so much better.”

Patton’s expression has softened, his head tilting to the side, his lips tilted up into a smile, his eyes so full of affection that Logan almost has the urge to look away, overwhelmed. But Logan, bolstered by something —the Bailey’s and peppermint schnapps, the Christmas spirit, his own love for Patton, he isn’t sure which or if it’s a combination of all of them—keeps looking at him, savoring the expression, before his hand drifts up to cup Patton’s jaw.

They lean in simultaneously, and Logan’s eyes drift shut as he presses his lips to Patton’s once again; this time, without anyone to watch or heckle, Patton’s soft lips part easily for him, Patton’s fingers tangling in his hair, and Logan shivers a little with pleasure as Patton’s tongue brushes against Logan’s bottom lip. Patton is always, always so intolerably tender with him, so careful and deliberate, as if Logan is something to be savored, something exquisite and vitreous that needs to be handled delicately, something precious.

Logan tries his best to treat him in kind. He touches Patton’s face, Patton’s mouth and lips and tongue, eternally cool to the touch, with the kind of mindfulness he gives to pipettes and microscopes and test tubes, as if touching Patton in a way that is any less than the amount of devotion and love Patton deserves will irrevocably contaminate the results of his hypothesis.

But then Patton’s tongue brushes against his own, and Logan gasps, and he moves to kiss Patton with the devotion and love and passion that ignites in Logan’s stomach, burning hotter than a Yule log, his heartbeat thudding rapidly in his ears, and Logan presses himself even closer to Patton, so wonderfully chilled to the touch, the only thing that could temper the heat flaring to life in Logan’s stomach to something bearable, the only thing that brings balance, something as undeniably well-paired as the heat source and the heat sink—they bring each other thermodynamic equilibrium, romantic equilibrium, equilibrium in all things—

Patton pulls away, just in time, just as Logan needs to break away to gulp in a breath that Patton does not need to take, and Logan looks at Patton, whose eyes are flaring with their own kind of heat.

“I love you too,” Patton says, and he presses his forehead to Logan’s, inhaling deeply; Logan wonders if his body has started producing dopamine and norepinephrine and serotonin and vasopressin, if Patton can smell it.

“I love you so much,” Patton says again, his voice trembling with the weight of it.

Patton wraps his arms around Logan’s waist, pulling him into his lap, and Logan wraps his arms around him. Patton cuddles closer, rubbing his cheeks against Logan’s hair almost like a cat.

“I love you too,” Logan says, “I love you.”

Patton bundles the blanket around them, the fire crackling and the ebb and flow of string music in the background, and Logan presses a kiss to Patton’s cheek.

“I love you,” Patton repeats.

I love you, I love you, I love you, they whisper at each other, wrapped up in a blanket until the fire sputters down to embers, Patton’s cold skin keeping Logan from overheating, the pair of them exchanging kisses that only slightly tip into overly passionate, always returning to holding each other, cuddling in front of the fire, even as Logan’s eyelids slip lower and lower as the moon rises higher and higher in the sky, so comfortable and so adored and so absolutely, completely sated that he cannot help but drift off in the comfort of it, one thing ringing in his ears that carries him off to a deep, dreamless sleep.

I love you, I love you, I love you.

#my post #text #my fic #my fanfiction #sanders sides fanfiction #logicality

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arknights-imagines · 4 years

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For the Christmas thing can you do SilverAsh. hope you have a nice day! merry early Christmas

From, SilverAsh

Christmas Letter and Gift event

It's Christmas Day where I am, so Merry Christmas avshvsvs! ☃️🥺 SilverAsh's letter seems to be the most anticipated one considering I got so many requests for him shsjbss so I hope you all like it 🥺👉👈 Tysm to all of you for everything so far! 🥺😭 I'll make a more formal thank you post later on 🍡 for now, please enjoy the letter 🌸

- A very jolly Exe ☃️

--------------------

You wake up just as the sun rises; rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you move to separate yourself from your covers in order to dress yourself for the day when your eyes are drawn to the snow-blanketed view of the RIIC main deck from outside your window.

Surprise paints your face for a moment when you notice Operators and staff alike frolicking outside in the snow, filling the air with mirth - and then you remember, ‘it’s Christmas Day.’

The realisation causes a smile to come to your face as a wave of cheeriness invigorates you. But then you reach toward your nightstand to grab something, you instead discover a lustrous silver envelope, propped up against the various items occupying the top of the nightstand. Pausing, your brow quirks up and you slowly take the envelope into your hands.

The envelope is devoid of any words or stamps, so the only way to figure out who it’s from is by opening it - and you do just that. The stark white paper you find inside of the envelope feels cold to the touch, but even so; when your eyes come to the familiar thin penmanship all over the page, your heart swells with warmth.

--------------------

Ever dearest [name],

Sleep well, my dear? I sincerely hope so, as today is a rare occurrence that should be cherished while it’s here. In order to participate in Christmas festivities, you of course need to be well rested.

Christmas morning...what every child seems to anticipate from the first sight of snow. In Kjerag, Holiday celebrations are quite ostentatious; as expected, considering we bear the title ‘the Snow Realm’. But what’s more curious is that Christmas and its heartening traditions have persevered even in a world as wartorn as ours. Seldom is Rhodes Island a jubilant place, but that seems to have changed for Christmas.

To me, Holidays have always held little to no meaning. After my parents died, my sisters and I didn't gather together to celebrate the Holidays in the slightest; I have attended formal Christmas balls and traditional ceremonies out of obligation, but the last time I received or sent a gift feels like centuries ago. I believed my Christmas evenings were best spent dealing with business affairs for Karlan Trade Co., and so if you ever wished to find me on Christmas Day, a wise decision would be to go straight to my office.

However, outside the windows of my office and on the bright illuminated streets, revelers would dance and carolers would sing; though I never wished I was there celebrating alongside them, it was still quite the heartening sight. The Holiday experience in Kjerag truly is the epitome of Christmas and its spirit. Someday I’d like to take you there; I’ve never quite cared for the Holidays much, but I’m convinced that with you by my side, I’ll find myself enjoying Christmas and its celebrations more than I originally anticipated.

My apologies, my dear. I’ve long since strayed from my original topic. I suppose my thoughts are not as organized as I thought.

All beginning with my contract with Rhodes Island, or more well expressed - all beginning with the day you and I crossed paths, many things have changed. The day we met….my dear, has it really been that long? The calendar tells me so, but my heart does not. I suppose it is as they say; when you’re with your beloved, time flies.

To call you my beloved is in truth an understatement; [name], you may be that, but you are so much more. You encapsulate warmth so effortlessly, and you somehow imbue that warmth into someone as shrewd as myself. Through you, I have learned to understand compassion, and I have gained something to fight for. I never thought I would ever find someone to love in the way that I love you...but alas, here we are, my dear.

I’m well aware many hours of my day are spent with you, with working hours and leisure time melded together, and occasionally I am blessed with being able to spend the night with you. But quite simply...it’s never enough. I understand how that may sound, but it's how I feel in my heart.

Every moment you are gone, you occupy my thoughts, especially during this season of Christmas; My dear...the time we have together is not as long as it may seem. This world, with its catastrophes and its ruined society, can take either of our lives whenever it may like. As such, I wish to spend as much time as I can with you during the holidays.

As per Christmas tradition, I’ve purchased a gift for you. I have gifted you many things, though I feel this one is special. I choose it with only you and I in mind; no thoughts about outside things distracting me.

[Name], my dear; I love you, more than you can fathom. My affections toward you come without any conditions; toward you, I never have, and will never have ill intentions or ulterior motive. Some may persuade you to believe otherwise, but should that ever happen, remember this letter and what I’ve expressed through it.

I have more to tell you, but perhaps I should save that for when we see each other, which I hope will be very soon. Well then, my dear, I only have one last thing to ask of you; linger in the moments we spend together. Visit me to wish me goodnight before you go to bed, stay with me a few seconds longer when it’s time for us to part, forget your jacket in my room and return for it later.

Come meet me when you can today; I’ll wait for you, my dear. Perhaps this may come as unceremonious, but - from today and onward, my heart is yours, [name]; do what you will with it.

Yours eternally,

Enciodas

--------------------

A effusive, unrestrained smile paints your lips as you read the last line of the letter. SilverAsh’s every word is enough to cause warmth to explode in your chest; such sincerity and tenderness from him is reserved solely for you.

Your eyes are once again drawn toward your nightstand, where you this time notice the rectangular box on its top; its colour identical to the envelope, white decorative ribbon ties the box closed. You reach over and retrieve it quickly, eager to see what SilverAsh has gotten you. The box feels weighted in your hands, and upon ridding the box of the ribbon and lid, your gaze falls on a delicate, beautifully-carved sculpture of marble.

It’s so detailed that almost immediately, you recognize the two figures embracing as SilverAsh and yourself; it's a sculpture of you and him. Your features and his are captured with impressive perfection, and the marble feels smooth and cool against your fingers once you remove it from the box.

A sculpture of such degree almost screams wealth, but because of its rather petite size and simple pale colour, it executes a bold yet warm message while not being unsightly to the eye. You smile down softly at the small sculpture of SilverAsh and yourself, then you glance back at the giftbox.

The last thing left in the box is a slip of paper with SilverAsh’s thin penmanship creating lines of words on its surface. ‘Merry Christmas, my dear. I had this sculpture commissioned by a very well known artist in Kjerag; quite captivating, isn't it? Even so, even the most beautiful art pieces cannot compete with you.’ You pause for a moment - attention drawn to your window once more. Your eyes widen slightly when you notice that a familiar, fluffy-eared figure has joined the ever growing crowd outside.

SilverAsh. He stands with his sisters, watching as his fellow Operators launch snowballs at each other and stumble in the snow; then his eyes meet yours. Even from your room so far away, you catch his expression as his lips fall agape, then a charming smile comes to his face. You're unable to stop yourself from grinning back - you quickly read the last sentences of the note, ‘[Name], even if you must work today, at least spare a moment to smile at me, won't you?’ Then, like a child rushing to their Christmas tree to open gifts, you waste no time grabbing your coat and hurrying out the door, knowing SilverAsh awaits you with a warm smile, ‘Even that smile alone would be a suitable enough Christmas present for me.’

#merry christmas everyone 🥰🎄#arknights #arknights imagines #arknights silverash #arknights x reader #silverash arknights #christmas event #arknights imagine #arknights fanfic #arknights fanfics #arknights writing #imagine #imagines #writing

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