#thinking about ATTEMPTING a christmas drawing but i also need to get gifts for my friends

[risingsunresistance]

i did draw recently btw but it flopped on twitter so it's staying there 🚶

[five-rivers]

Hobbies

Phic phight! @idiot-cheesehead-archenemy

A series of vignettes about Danny having various hobbies.

(Master the Orb)

Danny exhaled slowly as the ice built up between his hands.  Each new layer glittered in the ghostlight cast by the overhead ambient ectoplasm, embedding complex patterns in the overall piece as new layers built up over it.

“Very good, Great One,” rumbled Frostbite behind his shoulder.  “Your control has improved immensely.”

Danny inhaled equally slowly, examining his work so far but not adding to it quite yet.  “I don’t know.  It looks a little lopsided.”

“Mmm, it looks fine to me.  Especially for such an early attempt.”

Danny sighed, exhaling the ice he had built up with his breath.  “So, it is lopsided.”

“Consider it practice,” said Frostbite, encouragingly. “It takes time to master art of any kind.”

“Humans do ice sculpture, too,” mumbled Danny. “They get really good, too.  I’ve seen pictures.  And videos.  They don’t even have ice powers.”  He rubbed his thumb over the surface, smoothing over a slightly rougher patch.

“That may be true,” said Frostbite, “but, again, you just started, Great One.  You have only had your powers for a little while.  Give yourself some support.”

Danny shrugged.  “I guess it isn’t something my life depends on, so I can relax about it.” He built up another layer of ice. “This is oddly therapeutic, and I don’t say therapeutic lightly.  You know Jazz.”

“I do indeed,” said Frostbite, somewhat ruefully, head half-bowed.  

Jazz could be a force of nature, even more so than ice powers.

He held the ice orb up to the light.  It caught on the patterns he had placed there. Fractals were the easiest.  He was hoping that if he got better, he’d be able to make real sculptures with patterns in them, instead of just orbs.  

But, first, he had to master the orb.  Just like how when drawing you had to do circles first.  Circle. Orb.

Ooorb.  Yep.  

The controlled application of ice.  The evenness of the internal patterns.  The solidity, density, and durability.  

His orb was… not very orblike, despite what Frostbite said.  Frostbite probably thought he was making so flat on purpose.  

Yeah.  He was terrible at this.  

He was having fun, though.  

.

.

 (Furnace)

“You’re taking up glass blowing?” asked Tucker, surprised.

“Yeah?  Is there a problem?” asked Danny, reaching over to stop his friend from accidentally drawing a line of orange sharpie across his poster on the themes in Macbeth.

“No!” said Tucker, quickly.  “But, like, why?  It just seems… unlike you.”

“Exactly,” said Danny, nodding sharply.  “It has absolutely nothing to do with my powers and nothing to do with my family.  Plus, I had a coupon.”

“For glass blowing?”

“It was a groupon,” said Danny.  “For making Christmas tree ornaments.  I’m going to do it with Jazz.”

“But, Danny,” said Sam, looking over from where she was working on her own poster about Twelfth Night, “glass blowing, uh, involves a lot of heat.”

“Sure?”

“Danny, you have an ice core.”

“Ah,” said Danny.  “Well.   I’ve got to use that groupon.  If it doesn’t work out, it’s only the once, right?”

.

“Oh my gosh,” said Danny, wringing sweat out of his t-shirt.  “That was awesome!”  He giggled to himself and peaked into the annealer again.  “So awesome!”

“Uh huh,” said Jazz.  Her attempts had been… rather less successful than Danny’s, partially because she was trying so hard to make them perfect.  But she had managed a few little baubles, nonetheless.  “I think these’ll all be good for the tree. Assuming we get one.”

“And it isn’t set on fire.”

“Oh, yeah, that was a bad year.”

He squeaked open the annealer again, only closing it when the instructor lightly scolded him.  “They’re so terrible and lopsided,” said Danny.  

“Hey,” said Jazz.  “Mine are fine.”

“I know!  I was talking about mine.”

“Ah, okay then.  I agree.”

“You aren’t supposed to agree.”

“What, you want me to lie?  And after you said it first?”

“No,” said Danny.  “But you could be nicer about it.”

“I’m your sister, what do you expect?”

.

.

 (Lung Capacity)

Danny let the last note trail off to complete silence. He stared apprehensively at the assembled student body.  Curse Mr. Lancer’s extra credit talent show assignment.  Any minute now, they’d start laughing at him.  

What was he thinking?  He’d just watched a few YouTube tutorials on breath control, and he thought he could come up here and sing in front of people?  He was a moron, and—

Sam and Tucker started cheering wildly, followed rapidly by everyone else in the gym.  

Okay.  What?

Sam and Tucker, following impulses known only to overexcited teenagers, swarmed up the stage and attacking Danny.  

“Why didn’t you tell us you could sing like that?” demanded Sam.  

“When did you learn?” asked Tucker, doing his level best to noogie Danny.  “Why did you learn?”

“I wanted to improve my, you know, wail,” muttered Danny, “and all the breath control YouTube videos either had to do with diving or singing, so…”  He did a little head wiggle to illustrate his point and also dislodge Tucker.  

“I just can’t believe you kept this a secret from us,” said Sam.  

Danny snorted and took a sort of half bow before attempting to leave the stage.  “My dudes, I am basically made of secrets.”

“Encore!” screamed someone who clearly hated him.  

“Oh, no,” said Danny, bracing himself against Sam and Tucker who were pushing him back into the middle of the stage.  “No encore.  I don’t do encores.”

But now people were chanting.  Chanting.  

“Come on, Danny,” said Tucker.  “Just once!”

“Yeah, these are your fifteen minutes of fame!”

“I had those already!  Multiple times!”

“That was Poindexter.”

“And now it can be you.”

Danny reluctantly took the microphone back off the stand.

.

.

 (Letterhead)

The ink was thick, almost creamy, and paint-like. It was the ectoplasm mix, which also gave it a rich, rosy glow.  

Danny was practicing ghost calligraphy.  Well, one particular subset of ghost calligraphy, one which put special emphasis on the color of the letters as well as how they fit together.  

It was a totally useless hobby.  But it was… not exactly calming.  No.  He’d gotten way too angry about poorly formed arcs and crooked lines a couple of times.  So. Yeah.  Not calming.  But… meditative.  Meditative. And there was something satisfying about seeing the finished product.  

Plus, if he framed his better finished work, they made for good presents for weirdo ghosts.

“You misspelled this,” drawled Ghost Writer.  

“No, I didn’t.”

“Keuwii only has one kei.”

“This is only one kei.”

“What’s this, then?”

“It’s a flourish.”

“A flourish.”

Danny rolled his eyes.  “Everyone’s a critic.  If you don’t want it—”

“I didn’t say that.”

Danny raised an eyebrow.  

Ghost Writer made a show of rolling his eyes. “Very well.  Do you have one for my half-brother Randy.  Perhaps one that says something along the lines of ‘idiot?’”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

.

.

 (Babies on Fire)

“Danny,” said Jazz.  “What are you doing up at three in the morning with a lighter? And… yarn?  Is that yarn?”

“Dad wanted me to learn how to sew,” said Danny, “but I don’t like needles, not the sharp ones, anyway.”

“You get stitches every other week,” pointed out Jazz.

“Exactly,” said Danny, gesturing with the lighter.  “So, I decided to look into, you know, knitting. And I was on knitting websites, and having, you know, a pretty good time with that, but then I found out about the babies.”

“The babies.”

“The babies,” said Danny, seriously.  “And the blankets that are on fire.  It depends on the yarn, you see.  If the yarn is the wrong kind of yarn, if it catches on fire, the blanket can melt onto the baby.  It’s terrible.  Just terrible.”

“I kind of think that if the blanket is on fire you have bigger problems,” said Jazz.  She took a step closer to her obviously insane younger brother.  “Are you… testing the yarn?”

“I have to, Jazz.  It’s for the babies.”

“Alright,” said Jazz.  “You are going to limit it to just the yarn in our house, right?”

“But we don’t have any babies.”

“Okay, that didn’t answer my question, but, like…” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Since we don’t have any babies here, why are you testing the yarn?”

“Because we might have babies here in the future,” said Danny.  “Or I might knit something and give it to someone as a gift and then they give it to their baby.  Oh my gosh, I’d feel so guilty.”

“I’d be more worried about the toxic waste in our basement,” said Jazz, which was exactly the wrong thing to say to a sleep-deprived half-ghost on the edge of an Obsession-fueled breakdown.  Danny vanished in a blur, trailing yarn behind him. Jazz, who had only gotten up for a glass of water, cursed under her breath.

.

.

 (Before the Ball)

“I’m so, so sorry, Dora,” said Danny, holding back something adjacent to laughter.  

Dora laughed, more openly.  “It is fine, Sir Phantom.  Even now, you are better than my brother.”

“Am I really?  Your brother?  Who was raised to do this?”

“Well,” said Dora, letting go and stepping back out of the range of Danny’s feet.  Which were, evidently, both left feet.  “No, I’m afraid, but it is amusing to say, isn’t it?”  She pressed her fingers to her lips, suppressing more laughter.  

“Yeah, it is,” admitted Danny.  

“In any case, you are far more graceful concerning your mistakes than he ever was.  More gallant. A better representative of chivalry altogether.”  She patted the shoulders of his shirt.  

“Thanks,” said Danny.  “Do you think that I’ll be, uh, ready in time for the party?”

“It’s more than a party,” said Dora.  “You’re being officially knighted.  You’ll be a peer of the realm.”

“Aha,” said Danny.  “Yeah.  I don’t… what?  Really? That’s a thing?”

“You thought I was joking?”

“No,” said Danny, drawing out the word.  He had, in fact, thought she was joking and only accepted her offer to teach him how to dance because he thought it sounded like fun and like it might take his mind off his problems.  “Of course not.  So. Dancing.  Important.  For first impressions?”

“Everyone already knows you, Phantom,” said the knight assigned as Dora’s bodyguard.  “But dancing is surprisingly useful for swordplay.  Which you need all the help you can get at.”

“You said I was getting better.”

“That doesn’t mean you’re good.”

“Ouch.”

.

.

 (Time)

“I don’t have time for a hobby,” complained Danny through the Fenton Phones.  “Maybe if the ghosts let up a bit—” He zapped one of said ghosts.  

“Danny, are you fighting ghosts right now?”

“Yeah.  That’s my point.”

“Oh my god, get off the phone.”

“No way!  This is the only time I can call you, what with all of your classes.”

“Danny…” said Jazz, clearly exasperated.  He took advantage of the lull in the conversation to blast a few more ghosts.  

“I’m fine Jazz.”

“You are not fine.  You are, like, ten thousand miles away from fine.  When was the last time you even slept through the night?”

“Eh,” said Danny.  “Recently?”

“You need to take more time for yourself.”

Danny sighed and captured the last ghost.  “Maybe catching ghosts is my hobby.”

“Catching ghosts is your self-imposed penance for doing something that isn’t even your fault.  Not a hobby.”

“Okay, okay.  I’ll talk to you on Wednesday, same time.”

“Danny, don’t—”

He hung up.  

“Ugh,” said Danny.  “I guess I need to find a hobby.  Have to find time to find a hobby.”

“Perhaps I could be of help.”

“Ah!”  Danny jolted forward, dropping his phone.  

Clockwork gestured with one hand, and the phone dropped back into Danny’s hands from above.  

“Ohhh my ghost, why are you here?”

“You were just talking about finding time.  And now I’m here.”

“Good timing, I guess?”

“Only the best,” said Clockwork, evenly.  “But we were speaking of hobbies.  Might I suggest ice sculpture?  Your friends in the Far Frozen would be more than happy to teach you...”

[emotionallyits2009]

deancas fic rec list!

hello everyone! happy christmas to those who celebrate it, my gift to you is my fic rec list that i said i would make like a month ago. the only thing it is organized by is canonverse vs alternate universe. tried to cover a variety of subjects but there are in particular many fics of the genre “postcanon where cas is human and he and dean live together and slowly finally get their shit together” because i know what i’m about, son. HOPE U ENJOY. and if you wanna talk about any of them or rec me other fics please do. :) 

Canonverse:

where the weeds take root by deathbanjo, 30k, explicit “Are you happy? Y’know. Just—being here,” Dean says, gesturing to the yard with his beer bottle. “Being with—I mean, you used to fight in celestial wars and—and save the world. Now you’re growing vegetables and talking about chickens.” There are many fics set in a post-canon universe where Cas is human and he and Dean live together and slowly fall into a relationship. Imo this one is the best of the best of that genre. This was one of the first fics I read back in July when I was getting Back Into Supernatural where I was like oh fuck I’m like in this. Dean builds Cas planters and bookshelves and a chicken coop and they fight and work through it.

Cuckoo And Nest by komodobits, 10k, explicit For a long time, Castiel thought that every earthly possession other than the immediately necessary was excess to requirement. But Dean – Dean who named his car, who keeps a photograph of his mother in his wallet, some thirty-plus years after her death, who still has the crumpled ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign with a sleeping pelican emblazoned on it from the Microtel outside of Roanoke where he first kissed Castiel, clumsy and unsure, under the unsteady fluorescence of an exhausted bathroom bulb – is sentimental. It puzzles Castiel, where Dean draws the line between what is meaningful and what it is worthless. Really Gets the dynamic of Cas doesn’t think Dean wants him to stay/Dean thinks Cas will leave the first chance he gets. Also a nice example of Cas thinking he’s not wanted if he’s not useful/powerful and being told otherwise. Another all-time fave!

lonely hearts by outphastthemoat, 4.5k, gen He thinks he might give up having his own anything just to be able to step foot inside the room next door and sit on the edge of Dean’s bed instead. This one is for the CAS GIRLS who know what LONELINESS feels like.

Helionneiros by aeli_kindara, 24.2k, mature In which Dean visits his mother, and Claire takes Cas on a hunt. I’m always on the lookout for more fic with Claire and Jack. Jack doesn’t show up until the end here but the relationship between Cas and Claire is really nice.

Crawl by aeriallon, 11k, explicit It’s been almost four years since Castiel left Kansas; he'd eventually settled in an island town where he has a job, a house, and a life without the Winchesters. Every winter, Dean drives down to the coast to see him. Another fic where Cas is human but in this one he took some time for himself and got some distance from the Winchesters! He gets to be competent and weird as a human and we love that for him. I must warn you all that this fic contains one use of the phrase “making love” which would normally put me right off but it’s still worth reading. The first of a three-part series.

home where you hold me by microcomets, 1.6k, gen Cas and Dean, in the moments between their battles, ache for quiet spaces. Technically this is a coda to 10x20 but you don’t need the episode for context. Short and very sweet.

Build a Home by domesticadventures, 20.1k, teen After they save the world, Dean expects Cas to come back to the bunker with them. He doesn’t. This one is so cute it’s like what if once they were done saving the world Sam and Dean actually invited other hunters to move into the bunker with them. Obviously Dean wants that to include Cas but doesn’t know how to use his words.

the taste of gravel in the mouth by deathbanjo, 22.4k, explicit This is what Cas gave up Heaven for: greasy diner food, shitty motel rooms with even shittier cable, long car rides spent in complete silence except for the same six tapes playing over and over again, and a burnt-out husk of a man who can barely hold a conversation anymore. Angst fic! They go on a road trip and Dean is severely fucked up post-Mark of Cain.

Unknown Quantities by xylodemon, 8.6k, explicit No one ever tells Dean anything. Another nice getting-together fic.

Creature of Habit by trinityofone, 5.2k, teen The more you love someone, the more you want to kill them. Or: How Cas developed some bad habits, and Dean coped surprisingly well. This one is ancient by destiel standards (written during season 5) but it manages to nail the married couple vibes they give off in later seasons. Cas is a bitch and Dean likes him so much. <3

The (Mostly Accidental) Courtship of Dean Winchester by Tuesday, 11.2k, mature Angelic marriage rites were never intended to go quite like this. Another old one that is a lot of fun! They get Accidental Angel Married and if you don’t enjoy dumb fanfiction tropes like that I don’t know what to say to you.

Vena Amoris and Other Old-Fashioned Bullshit by pyrebi, 4k, teen In which angelic marriage bonds are apparently stupidly easy to trigger, Cas wages multidimensional war in Heaven, Dean can't catch a break like ever, Sam rather enjoys being a dick, love saves the day, and nobody consummates anything. The OTHER accidental angel marriage fic written in 2010. 

Crazy Diamonds by pantheon_of_discord, 24.8k, explicit A week ago, Dean was pulled out of Hell. Now, he’s apparently woken up in 2018, and the angel that a mere twenty-four hours beforehand had threatened to chuck him back into the pit is sleepily pouring himself coffee and wearing Dean’s second-favourite Zeppelin shirt. It all seems like a perfect happy ending, but with Hell’s scars still so fresh, Dean can’t imagine how he could have possibly gotten there. At the same time, the Dean who went to sleep in the bunker, right next to Cas, wakes up on Bobby’s couch in 2008. He’s instantly bombarded with questions by a Lilith-obsessed brother and a man who’s been dead for years, and must decide between keeping his finally-perfect life intact, and the lives he could save by re-writing history. Regardless of these choices, both Deans are trapped in the wrong decade, and their only way back lies with a Castiel still very much under Heaven’s thumb – one who might find the future Dean describes difficult to believe. Time travel is FUN. There’s an excellent part where (minor spoilers) future!Dean is like, “Guess what, asshole? You like me so much you marry me!!!!!!!!!!!” to 2008!Castiel that made me laugh out loud the first time I read it. Also just a good reminder of how most problems in life are temporary and if you could go back in time to talk to your younger self you’d be like, “Hey man. Chill out. You get through it.”

The Path of Fireflies by museaway, 63.7k, mature After his humanity is restored, Dean wakes up in bed with Castiel, a wedding ring, and no memory of the past twelve years. There’s a lot of amnesia fic and djinn fic out there were Dean wakes up ~suddenly together with Cas~ but I like this one in particular because he’s initially very confused and kind of a dick about it until he acknowledges that being with Cas makes him happy.

take the long way home by dothraki_shieldmaiden, 95k, explicit Three months ago, when Dean decided to retire, he thought his life was going to end up differently. He'd thought that he might get to have it all, Sam, Cas, Jack, and nice little place to live. Instead he gets Sam and Jack off on their Summer of Love Tour, radio silence from Cas, and a never-ending road trip consisting of himself. Still reeling from the loss of his grace, Castiel travels the country in search of hunts. Driven by a need to prove his usefulness, he pushes himself beyond all limits of endurance. Together, with the help of a few friends, a crumbling Victorian house, and a stray cat, Dean and Castiel patch themselves back together and create a home together. Do you wanna read almost one hundred thousand words of Dean and Cas having extremely intense feelings but refusing to voice them aloud? Haha of course you do that’s why you’re here. There’s also a lot about Cas adjusting to being human and being depressed about it which might resonate if you’ve ever felt weird about having a body. To be honest the author could stand to use a few more commas but there were also half a dozen moments that made me put my phone down and drag my hand slowly over my face and whisper “oh my god” to myself which is like, the ultimate measure of a good fanfiction so it gets to be on the list.

like moses and batman and james dean by saltyfeathers, 31.6k, explicit dean used to turn tricks. over a decade later, he met cas. Have you seen the fanon (apparently pioneered by Mr. Jackles “Original Deankin” Ackles himself) that Dean used to prostitute himself to feed himself and Sam when they were younger? Are you interested in exploring that concept in fanfiction? Well, this is the only fic you need. Mind the tags on this one! It’s not what I’d call happy but it’s good.

Some Assembly Required by narrow_staircases, 47k, mature It’s September of 2005, and Dean Winchester, in an attempt to outrun old mistakes and painful memories, finds himself in southern Kentucky on a wild goose chase. He’s completely certain this weird religious movement he’s “investigating” is a hoax, despite the miraculous healings people report, and he’ll be back on the road in a day or two. Things are looking up when he meets Cas, an awkward (and gorgeous) graduate student who’s actually doing honest-to-god research into the local tent revival meetings. When that research takes a weird and personal turn, Dean’s left to face two very serious realities: one, this may be a real case after all, and two, he’s fallen way harder for Cas than he should ever have let himself. Stanford-era AU of Dean trying to avoid his father and getting in over his head on a case.

Alternate universe:

And This, Your Living Kiss by opal_bullets, 57k, mature Only a very few people in the world know that the celebrated and reclusive poet Jack Allen is just Kansas mechanic Dean Winchester, a high school dropout with a few bucks to his name. Not that it matters anymore; life has left him so wrung out he never wants to pick up another pen. Until, that is, a string of coincidences leads Dean to auditing a poetry course with one Dr. Castiel Novak. The  professor is wildly intelligent, devastatingly handsome...and just so happens to be academia's foremost expert on the poetry of Jack Allen. Mundane AUs in this fandom have to be really, really good to catch my attention and this one is! It’s exactly what it says in the summary and the characterization is spot-on. 

Out to Drift by deathbanjo, 20.9k, mature Dean drives a black car with a loud engine. He lies too easily. He keeps a gun in the back of his jeans, and Castiel isn’t sure, but he wouldn’t be surprised if Dean has killed someone before. Two people in fucked-up unstable situations meeting and forming a connection. Honestly guys I really just love deathbanjo.

[butgilinsky]

december // mb

warning; heartbreak. that’s it. 

summary; after he’s left alone in an empty apartment with the weight of the world on his shoulders, mat comes to realize that december’s his least favorite month of the year. based on the song december by neck deep.

word count; 3.8k+ 

add yourself to my nhl taglist!

mat doesn’t know how long he’s been walking around the block. all he knows is that it’s hard to see, even harder to walk straight, and he can’t shake the itch he has to call you. he just needs one more time, just one final attempt at hearing your voice, even if it’s just your answering machine. 

“hey, this is y/n! i’ll get back to you-” he hangs up then, decides that he doesn’t have the mental capacity to leave another message. 

it’s only been two weeks, but mat feels like it’s been years since he’s seen you. his heartbreak is just as fresh as it was when you walked away from him, tears in his eyes and mind going through the motions of trying to put itself back together again. two weeks isn’t long enough to heal from the gaping hole you left in his heart. there’s not enough time in the world for mat to heal properly. 

he comes to the realization that he’ll never be the same fairly quickly. he thought you were it for him. he thought that every obstacle would be tackled by the two of you together. he thought you’d be in this shit show called life together, for the long haul. he can’t say it’s not his fault, can’t say he tried as hard as he could. he took you for granted, and he knows that now, but now it’s too late.

he thinks that december is the worst month to be face heartache. he can’t take you home for christmas like he planned, can’t kiss you when the clock strikes midnight on january first. he doesn’t get to see you shudder from the cold despite him telling you to bundle up ten times before leaving the house. the christmas decorations that line the street are a constant reminder of the ones you lined the apartment with, and mat starts to think he’ll never look at christmas decorations the same. 

when he gets back home he sees a pair of your shoes by the door. he sees the christmas card from your best friend sitting on the table in the entry way. he sees little traces of you, almost fooling him into thinking you still live there. he has to remind himself then, your stuff is here but you’re not. you told him you’d pick everything up after he went to vancouver, wanting to limit your amount of contact with mat, but that only made it worse for him. 

you didn’t want to see him anymore. he wants to see you, and you want nothing to do with him anymore. it’s a hard pill to swallow, losing you so quickly after having you for so long. he knows he should understand, knows he should come to terms with the fact that he wasn’t the best he could’ve been. he wasn’t the man he should’ve been, nowhere near the man you deserved. you asked for simple things and mat told you he’d never be able to give them to you. 

he thinks about how hard it’ll be to go home, to open gifts on christmas when he knows that theres a pile of boxes in the back of his closet that’ll never be opened. he knows that he should return them, should take them back to the stores before his grace period expires, but he can’t bring himself to even look at the boxes. he can’t bring himself to return the gifts he bought for you, can’t imagine going over each individual one in the process. 

tito offers to do it for him, says that he has a pair of pants he needs to return anyways, but mat knows better. he knows his friend is just doing what he thinks will help, and while it’s heartwarming, it’s also gut wrenching that his friends think he can’t take care of things himself. 

the first time he sees you after you walked out is at a restaurant, sitting across the table from a guy he’s never seen before. anders asks if he wants to leave, says that there’s another place they can go to right around the corner. mat shakes his head and slides into his seat, says it’s fine even though it’s not. 

he sits with his back to you, figures that’ll make it easier to resist the temptation to look at you. he doesn’t know that you watched him walk in, watched him slide into the seat facing away from you. he doesn’t know that your heart sinks into your stomach when you see him turn his back to you, silently telling you that it’s simply too difficult to look at you now. 

you excuse yourself from your table, the man across from you offering you a worried smile before you walk to the bathroom quicker than normal. you grip the edge of the sink, leaning over it in case your stomach fails you. the world around you spins, makes it harder to catch your breath that’s only getting worse with every passing second. 

you try to ground yourself, try to tell yourself that you did what was right for you, that this is what you wanted. it’s what you needed. you remind yourself that you want things that mat can’t give you. you want things that mat doesn’t want to give you. you need a life that mat can’t provide. 

“what do you want from me, y/n?” it’s the same fight, the one you’ve had too many times to count. you ask for something simple, ask him to do the bare minimum only for him to act as if you asked him to pull the moon out of the sky and shove it in your pocket. 

“i want you to tell me that we’ll get there! i don’t need it now, mat, but-”

“but that’s the thing, y/n. you do need it now. you want me to throw away everything i’ve worked for because you want some stupid house with a red door and shrubs around the lawn. you want to get married on a beach or in a forest. you want to have a large wedding, a reception in a big ballroom where everyone is smiling at you like you’re the only person in the room. 

“you want kids that pull on your hair and draw on the walls. you want to settle down and have a life made for thirty year olds who sit in cubicles from nine to five and then go home and eat dinner at the kitchen table. but i can’t give that to you. you want a life i can’t give you.” 

it hits you at full force, like a tsunami that nobody saw coming just before it wipes out an entire city. you try to ground yourself, try to bring yourself back to the restaurant bathroom that you’re in, rather than your place in the middle of your living room, crying and begging mat to just listen to you. 

you don’t think you’re ready to leave the space just yet, but you’re reminded that you’re not here alone, and the guy at your table is probably worried that you’re crawling out of the bathroom window. 

you run straight into someone on your way out of the bathroom, chests colliding into one another before you’re both rushing out apologies. you’re almost knocked off of your feet by the force, and grip onto the first thing that you can reach, which happens to be the person’s forearm. 

anthony’s hands steady you, making sure you don’t topple over in the heels that are suffocating your feet. he tries to mask his shock with a warm smile, tries to hide the sympathy that’s eating away at him. it doesn’t work, but you can tell he’s trying. 

he noticed the red rimmed eyes you’re sporting, and the way your eyeliner is smudged just the slightest bit. he notices the indents in your bottom lip from where you were just chewing on it to conceal the sounds of your sobs. it’s not the first time he’s seen you in a state similar to this one, and he’s not sure if he hopes it’s the last. 

you see him look back at his table and make the mistake of following suit, feeling every muscle in your body tense when you find the same set of eyes you’d missed for two months. you can’t tear your eyes away from him, can’t even bother to notice that the guy who brought you here is watching the entire exchange. 

mat doesn’t know what to do. he doesn’t know if he should look away and pretend like he never saw you or if he should get up and go talk to you. he doesn’t know where the boundaries are drawn or if he’s invited to overstep them regardless of what they entail. he wants to ask you, wants to stand up from his set and rush to take tito’s spot. he wants to hear your voice and feel your touch, feel his heart intertwine with yours in a bed shared by the two of you. 

anders brings mat back, clapping a hand on his back and trying to integrate him back into the table’s conversation. you look at him for a little longer, only brought out of your thoughts when you hear anthony’s voice. 

“y/n-”

“i have to go.” you leave him before he can say anything else, walking up to your table and rushing out a slew of apologies as you gather your things. 

“i’m sorry, i have to go.” he notices the tears building in your eyes, asks you if you need a ride home or money for a cab, both of which you turn down but thank him for. he’s not sure what just happened but he knows you can’t stay here for much longer without tipping over the edge, so he lets you go. 

you walk by his table then, trying to ignore the fact that you’re so close to him. you ignore the call of your name and cover your mouth with the back of your hand as you inevitably catch the attention of half of the restaurant. 

“barz, don’t-”

“y/n!” he’s out of his seat and running after you before any of his teammates can bring him back down. 

he doesn’t care that the whole restaurant is watching, doesn’t care that he’ll see stories about the exchange in the morning. he just focuses on you running out of the doors the best that you can, focuses on the fact that he’s getting closer to you with every stride. it’s not close enough, but it’s the closest he’s been in a long time and he’ll take anything he can get at this point. 

“y/n!”

“don’t do this, mat.” it’s the first time he’s heard your real voice for month; the first time it’s not your answering machine or his saved voicemails from you. it’s not in a video he can’t seem to stop watching, or a figment of his imagination in the middle of the night. it’s you, and you’re here. for a moment, he thinks he’s dreaming. 

“baby, please.” you move when he reaches for you, trying to hail a cab as quickly as you can so you can get the hell out of this situation. 

“i can’t do this. please, mat, please don’t do this. i’m begging you.” he feels his heart sink at the desperation in your face, somehow coming to terms with the notion that you don’t want to talk to him right now, and you probably don’t want to talk to him ever again. “i can’t do this to me mat, because if i let you tell me what you’re thinking then i’m not going to be able to walk away from you.” 

your words hit him at full force, almost knocking him straight off of his feet. he’s not entirely sure what weight your words held, but he does know the he wishes you’d give him the room to explain why that wouldn’t be such a bad thing. 

a cab pulls up to the curb and you’re reaching for the handle before he can get another word out, even though he doesn’t have anything else to say. he’s forced you into conversations that you didn’t want to have for months, he can’t bring himself to do that right now despite the questions swimming around in his mind. 

he watches you slip into the backseat, locking eyes with him one more time before shutting the door and begging the cab driver to take you home. he knows he messed up, knows he should’ve stayed in the restaurant, knows that he shouldn’t have let you walk out in december. 

you’re gone before he can process it. he’s left standing on the edge of the sidewalk, his hands shoved into his pockets and his eyes glued to the spot where you once stood. he feels a hand on his back, hears his friends telling him that you just needed time, that it was still all too new for you to face. 

but they don’t know you the way he does. they don’t know that you’re never going to be ready to face this. they don’t know that all you wanted was mat in a big house with a rose colored door, and all he gave you was the opportunity to find him passed out in the bathroom at three in the morning, too drunk to crawl into bed. 

he hears tito say the same thing he always does. the four words he hates to hear, but can’t seem to get his friend to stop muttering when the situation arises. 

“pain is never permanent.”

he bites his tongue, doesn’t want to yell at tito and tell him that he knows that, but tonight it’s killing him. he doesn’t say that december has become his least favorite month, that he wishes time would slow down so he wouldn’t have to reach the end of the year. 

the next time he sees you is a few months later. this time you’re in the park, hand gripping a leash with a dog he’s never seen on the other end of it. he feels his heart threatening to jump out of his chest when he sees you leaning into someone’s side, his arm wrapped around your shoulders. he has a leash in his hand as well, a different dog on the end of it. 

he doesn’t know if they’re yours or his, the dogs. he doesn’t know if they’re still puppies or fully grown. he doesn’t know if the guy you’re with is your new boyfriend, or a friend that’s overly affectionate. 

he gets his answer, unwillingly, when you turn to the man and smile brightly, watching as you push yourself onto your toes and press your lips to his. mat feels bile tickle the back of his throat, feels the gut wrenching feeling that comes with a heartbreak that’s never subsided. 

he wonders how he’s forced to see you like this. the city’s so big, and he had to be at the same park as you and him today. his jog picks up pace, his frustration being fueled into his early morning run. 

you see him when he passes you, eyes locking for just a moment before he looks ahead of himself once more. you know he’s mad, know he’s still grieving, but then you’re reminded of the man beside you, his hand squeezing your shoulder just as the dog on your leash gives you a firm tug as a reminder of where you are and who you’re with. 

you smile at him and tell him that yeah, you’re fine. you walk with him, only glancing over your shoulder once. mat’s already gone, no sign of him anywhere in sight. you almost wonder if you’d made up the entire thing in your head. 

-

it’s december again, and when mat reaches up to scratch his neck, he’s reminded of the facial hair he’s sporting. he remembers a time when you ran your fingers over his jaw, scratching gently at the stubble forming. 

“should i shave it?” you hum, almost not hearing his question. he asks again, peeling his eyes away from the tv and looking down at you. 

your head’s on his chest, and your eye are wide with admiration as you look up at him and shake your head. you tell him no, that you like his facial hair and it makes him look about five years older. he smiles, despite the fact that he asks you if that meant you didn’t like the babyface he usually wore. 

you smile then, rolling your eyes and squealing when his fingers dig into your ribs. you try to swat him away, but he rolls the two of you over and effectively traps you between him and the mattress. he only stops when you struggle to catch your breath from laughing, both of you wearing wide, cheesy grins while holding eye contact. 

you lean up and press your lips to his, humming when he pushed back against your lips with added pressure. his fingers dip down to your hips, gripping them slightly before slipping under the material of your shirt. 

mat has to pull himself out of the memory before his mind goes too far. he can’t spend too much time dwelling on the moment, or he’ll back out. he can’t back out, not after getting this far. 

he needs to tell you, needs you to know that he wants the best for you. he wants you to have everything you’ve ever wanted in life, even if he isn’t the one that gets to give it all to you. 

he wants you to know that he loves you, and will until his last breath. the years he spent with you weren’t like anything else he’s ever experienced, and he has a feeling it was a once in a lifetime opportunity. 

your smile spreads a warmth through his chest. he notices that it doesn’t reach your eyes, but neither does his. he walks into the coffee shop, know that there are so many thoughts bound to be left unspoken by the end of this. neither of you know how to start this conversation, but you take the first plunge. 

“you look good.” he lets a soft laugh slip, not understanding how that can be the first thing you’re saying to him after all of this time. he takes it in stride though, and bites his tongue so he doesn’t return the sentiment. 

there’s not much small talk. it’s practically impossible to sit in front of the other and pretend like the last few years never happened. he can’t act like he doesn’t know how it feels to wake up beside you, or have your lips moving up and down the skin of his neck. you can’t pretend you don’t know how it feels to watch him score a goal, or two, or three, and be the one that gets to go home with him afterwards. 

so he takes a deep breath, and you sense the hesitation coursing through him. he notices your patience, remembers how that came in handy over the course of your relationship. he gives you another small smile, and grips the cup in front of him as a way to keep his hands occupied while he starts to speak.

“i just want you to know that i want you to be happy. i know that you are, and that makes me happy. i hope you get your ball room floor, and your perfect house with rose red doors. i know that it’s been a long time, and i couldn’t tell you that when-” he swallows, and attempt to stop the lump from forming in his throat. it doesn’t work, but it adds a sense of comfort in a weird way. 

“i want you to know that i’m happy for you. i wish it was me, and i’d be lying if i said there’s a point where i won’t feel like that, but i know that you wanted things i couldn’t give you. i hope he's better than I ever could have been.” he doesn’t say that he doesn’t think that’s possible, and he doesn’t say that he’s ready to give you everything you’ve ever wanted, everything you asked him for a year ago. 

he doesn’t say that he’s ready now, that he’s at a place that he didn’t think he’d ever reach. you don’t get the pleasure of knowing that mat’s ready for this, for you. you’re left with the thought that he’ll never be ready, and you’ll never be given the chance to see mat mowing the lawn of a big, two-story house with a red door and a wrap around porch. 

you don’t tell him that you want to hear it, that you need to hear it. you don’t tell him that you’d drop everything you have right now if it meant that you can live that life with mat. he doesn’t get the pleasure of knowing that you’re silently begging him to ask you to leave your new life behind and run away with him. he’s left with the thought that you’re satisfied with what you have going for you, and he’ll never be given the chance to see you in a beautiful white dress, walking towards him with a smile so bright, he thinks it’ll blind him. 

you sit across from each other, biting your tongues and holding back words that would change everything if just one of you would simply spit it out. if one of you could build the courage to just say what you were both thinking, your lives would change once again. your lives would finally end up being everything you wanted them to be. 

but you don’t say anything, because you don’t think there’s a place for you to say it. mat doesn’t say anything, and he thinks he’s doing the right thing by holding back. he thinks he’s come to terms with how his life is meant to play out, and you think he’s still incapable of reaching the point that you need him to be at. 

you leave the coffee shop with a weight on your shoulders that wasn’t there when you arrived. your stomach feels uneasy, maybe from the coffee but definitely from the realization that you’d never be able to move on from mathew barzal. 

mat stays in his seat after you leave, not being able to hug you goodbye or watch you walk back to your car. he can’t find it in him to move from his spot, trying to give himself the time to come to the realization of what just happened. he knows that he still loves you, knows that he’ll always love you. he feels his chest ache and maybe it’s the weight of the situation, but it’s definitely from the realization that he’d never be able to move on from you. 

it’s going to be another long, lonely december.

-

barzy taglist; @extratragic @vinceduhn @teenagekook @smit41 @sidscrosbyy​ 

himbos; @babytkachuks​ @bricksatlandyswindow​ @anxietyandtacos​ @damndunner​ @dmonchld​ @kiedhara​ @sortagaysortahigh​ 

[thrillridesz]

all i want for christmas | eric

in part of the deobi secret santa project and dedicated as a gift to @channiewoo​ ✨ ( i hope you like it >< i tried my best! )

➳ pairing: college student!eric x reader ( ft juyeon, kevin, chanhee and sangyeon with jacob mentions! )

➳ genre: fluff, fantasy, time travel!au, time loop!au, christmas!au, university!au, love triangle!au ( ish? )

➳ warnings: n/a (PG13)

➳ word count: 4.6k

➳ inspo: lotus inn by why don’t we

➳ fic playlist: all i want for christmas - big time rush ft miranda cosgrove | lotus inn - why don’t we | christmassy! - the boyz | you belong with me - taylor swift | crush - david archuleta

a/n : this is my christmas secret santa gift to eri @channiewoo​  ^^ also hi, i’m your theb secret santa! thank you for being such a sweet person to talk to throughout this month and honestly you really made my first secret santa here on tumblr pretty memorable! i know we’ve just exchanged a few asks here and there but i genuinely did like talking to you though im not the most frequent secret santa anon out there >< i sincerely hope you can forgive me for that. but anyways, i hope you like your gift!!

+ also unedited for now because i really wanted to post this on christmas day... and tags are still not working but i don’t want to delay this any longer

The Christmas spirit could be felt in all corners of the house that night as the sweet aroma of freshly baked cookies and crackling log fire from the fireplace wafted in the air while party guests swayed to the upbeat  Christmas music playing on the stereo and chatted merrily amongst themselves. Outside, fine white snow was falling and against the black canvas of the night sky, it made the streets seem almost serene and even beautiful. Looking out, one could easily feel the Christmas mood as neighbours held their own christmas parties and family gatherings. Everywhere they looked, they would see beautifully decorated houses adorned with Christmas wreaths and intricate fairy lights. Sometimes, one would even see the occasional snowmans displayed out in the neighbours’ yards, covered in scarves and hats with the ever familiar carrot nose. From a distance a few doors down, one could also hear singing - a telltale sign of the local group of Christmas carolers making their rounds in the neighbourhood like they did every year.

This was what Christmas is all about - enjoying good food with loved ones, receiving amazing gifts, going door to door caroling and feeling at home with the people you appreciate and cherish while the winter snow falls outside. Yet, Eric felt anything but. In fact, his heart was pounding against his chest as he sipped nervously at his mug of hot apple cider. Around him, the party guests were mingling and laughing at the college Christmas party as they shared funny stories from the year they had, feeling particularly merry. Normally, it would have been easy for him to get in the mood but not this time.

“I don’t get what you’re so nervous about.” Kevin said, shaking his head. “Why can’t you just talk to her?”

“I don’t want to make a fool out of myself. What if I mess up?” He replied despondently, his eyes softening as he glanced at you from across the room.

There you were - decked out in a cute Christmas outfit just standing by the fireplace, your hair falling around your face and framing it, looking more beautiful than he had remembered. The smile on your face made his heart flutter ever so slightly and he could feel his face grow warmer despite having a huge mug of apple cider just in front of him. The santa hat you wore added just that little touch of sweetness and adorableness to you and Eric couldn’t help but feel his heart start to pound in his chest. If you weren’t already stunning to him, you were breathtakingly beautiful to him now. Every little smile or shy glance made his heart beat just a little faster and he reached up to clutch softly as his chest.

“It’s better than not trying at all, Eric.” Kevin pointed out, taking a bite out of his gingerbread cookie. “You ought to have a little bit more faith in yourself.”

Eric sighed in resignation. “It’s so much easier talking about it than actually doing it. Everytime I think about doing it, I chicken out. I just can’t seem to stop fearing about possibly screwing it up, Kev.”

Kevin regarded him with a sympathetic look before patting him reassuringly on the shoulder. “I understand. Look man, if you don’t feel ready then you don’t have to force yourself to talk to her.”

“I promised myself that today would be the day.”

“Yeah, I know you did but still, you don’t have to force yourself. Your face is turning pale from the anxiety.” The latter said, concerned.

“It is?” Eric asked, alarmed as he quickly turned to the window beside him, checking out his reflection. He narrowed his eyes as he reached up to ruffle his hair in an attempt to make it look somewhat better though all it did was make it seem more tousled.

Kevin watched him, chuckling softly. Men in love are truly a different breed.

“Hey, Kev! I nearly forgot, do you want to listen to my newly curated Christmas playlist? I’ve been meaning to ask but I couldn’t find you.” Sangyeon suddenly appeared from behind the duo, with a joyous grin on his face. Kevin gave Eric a questioning look which he waved away.

“I’ll be fine.” He smiled.

“Alright… If you need anything, just call me!” Kevin said, casting him a last fleeting glance as he walked away with Sangyeon.

Holding the mug of hot apple cider close to his chest, Eric leaned against the cold glass panel of the window, staring out listlessly despite the steady pounding of his heart. He shot a furtive glance in your direction and quickly looked away, his cheeks reddening. At this rate, it would not be long before he turned as red as Rudolph’s nose.

“Get a grip, Eric. Why are you being such a wimp?” He chided himself. Looking around, Eric couldn’t help but observe his surroundings wistfully.

Everyone was seemingly in their element - snacking on Christmas snacks, dancing and just having fun. By the boombox, he watched as Hyunjae engaged in conversation with a girl who he did not recognise. The way they were laughing and the way she so flirtatiously slapped him on the shoulder, giggling at something Hyunjae said made Eric feel so deeply envious. Even from where he was, the smitten look on her face was undeniable and he wondered why he couldn’t have been more of a ladies’ man like Hyunjae was. Things would have been so much easier for him. Why is it that whenever it came to you he was suddenly the most awkward person to grace the face of this earth? It just didn’t make sense to him.

Sighing, he took another sip of his hot apple cider, feeling the liquid burn at the back of his throat. Suddenly, he frowned, his eyes narrowing. Who was that?

He had one of the most attractive faces Eric had ever seen - with soft, fine dark hair, a strong build and a warm smile that simply lit up the room. There he was, talking to you and you sliding your hand over his shoulder, not in a seductive or flirtatious way but in a friendly way though it was still enough to spark jealousy in Eric’s heart. He watched intently as you leaned in to whisper something in his year, his smile growing wider at your words.

Eric longed to know what the two of you were talking about, his grip on his mug growing tighter and firmer.

“Lost your chance, buddy.”

Swivelling around, Eric nearly spilled his apple cider as he turned to face a pink haired boy with an upturned nose. He didn’t remember seeing him around but there was something odd about him that Eric couldn’t quite put his finger on. Not to mention, that statement really did rub him off the wrong way.

“Excuse me?” His tone was slightly icy as he furrowed his brows together, frowning at the stranger in front of him.

“Didn’t you want to talk to her?” The boy asked, taking a swig of his hot chocolate, seemingly not noticing the confused look Eric was shooting him.

“Do I know you?”

“Oh right! I’m sorry, I should have introduced myself. How rude of me… I’m Chanhee but you can call me New. Everyone does,” he smiled warmly, “you’re Eric?”

Eric narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Yes? How do you know my name?”

“I just do. I know everyone,” He waved away his question nonchalantly, “I see you have a Christmas sweetheart.”

He tipped his mug in your direction and Eric felt his face grow hotter, annoyance setting in at the same time.

“How is that any of your business?” He snapped, his tone indignant and confrontational.

“I am here to help so watch your tone around me.” New rolled his eyes, looking at him in disdain though there was a twinkle in his eyes as he continued, “I can help you get the girl.”

Eric cast you a sideway glance before turning back to New with a skeptical expression. Whoever this guy was, he was weird, odd. Yet, the proposal he had proposed was a tempting one and despite himself, he felt inclined to listen. Watching you from afar, Eric’s heart sank just a little deeper as the guy you were talking to suddenly reached up to brush your hair away from your face, the both of you looking into each other’s eyes as he did. The irritation and jealousy he felt came back stronger than ever and before he knew it, the words were out of his mouth before he even knew it.

“How can you help?”

At his words, New grinned, drawing a small crystal vial from his pocket. The vial was filled with a mysterious sparkly, glowy pink liquid and smelled distinctively of roasted chestnuts though Eric was almost a thousand percent sure the liquid was not made of any kind of roasted chestnuts in any shape or form. As New popped open the cap, the scent grew even stronger and Eric shot him an alarmed look.

“What is that? A drug?!” Looking around frantically, it felt like nobody was paying the two of them any attention, being too preoccupied with their own conversations. How is nobody noticing this?

“Calm down and don’t get your panties in a twist.” New scoffed, “It’s a time travel potion. Or a time loop potion if you will.”

This guy is actually crazy. Eric almost wanted to laugh out loud at the ridiculousness of it all but barely managed to suppress it.

“Okay…?”

“Yup, I made it myself. Took me like half a year to brew it to perfection but it should work now. I followed each step really closely so there should be no problems.”

“Yeah, sure man. Thanks for wasting my time. If you don’t mind, I’ll be leaving. Thanks for the false hope.” Eric grumbled, taking his leave and not even bothering to consider the chagrined look on New’s face. Mayhaps Christmas is not his time either. He wondered how long this would drag on. When Valentine’s Day rolled around, he chickened out and said ‘next time’. When Halloween rolled around, he chickened out yet again and promised to make a move by Thanksgiving yet when Thanksgiving rolled around, he settled for Christmas. Now…

“Maybe it’s just not meant to be. Maybe I’m just too much of a coward.” He whispered to himself, pushing his way through the crowd of people. As he took yet another sip of his hot apple cider, he couldn’t help but keep his eye on you. The way you were now looping your arms over the guy’s neck and the way he had his large hands on your waist made Eric want to leave the party. If only he had a little bit more faith…

“What time is it anyways?” He murmured to himself, wanting more than anything to leave.

9:04pm. Damn. It wouldn’t be until two hours later for the party to end. Sure, he could always leave early but he would hate to be seen as disrespectful to everyone else especially Jacob, the host of this lovely party.

He stared at the mug of hot apple cider he had in his hand, scrunching up his nose at the taste of it.

Was it just him or did it taste slightly… Off?

Eric gazed at it for a moment before he shook his head. I’m overthinking everything, he thought. However as he stood over the snack table, he felt a sharp pain at the back of his head. It was like having someone slap him at his head before his vision turned blurry. His limbs were beginning to go soft and his mouth dry. What was happening? He blinked rapidly but to no avail. It felt like he was falling in a deep pit…

When he opened his eyes again, everything felt fine. Patting himself lightly on the face, he looked around his surroundings in confusion. Just what was that? Did he imagine all of that? The mug of hot apple cider was still in his hands and the reindeer horns band was still on his head. He was wearing the same clothes and everything had become clear, there were no more blurry visions. The pounding in his head had stopped and it felt like whatever happened earlier was merely a figment of his own imagination.

“Eric…? Eric!”

The voice shook him from his stupor and with a start, he lifted his head to see Kevin regarding him with a questioning look on his face.

“You okay? You zoned out for a minute and I mean, really zoned out.”

“Y-Yeah… Aren’t you supposed to go listen to Sangyeon’s playlist or something?”

Kevin raised an eyebrow.

“What playlist?”

Eric frowned. “Didn’t Sangyeon ask you to listen to his Christmas playlist?”

“Um… No? Even if he has one, he hasn’t asked me yet.”

Eric looked at Kevin with confusion in his eyes. What was going on? Last he remembered, that was exactly what happened. Swivelling around, the confusion got even stronger when he saw you standing all alone at the other corner of the house. Were you not with that guy?

Instantly, he remembered what New had said. “Time travel potion…” He mumbled under his breath, his eyes widening when the realisation dawned upon. No way…

Whipping out his phone, it felt like his heart was about to pound right out of his chest when he saw the time. His throat felt dry and tight as he stared, unable to believe his eyes.

8:46pm.

Eric suddenly recalled the weird taste he had gotten in his cider and instinctively, his hand reached up to cover his mouth. There was no other explanation for this other than the fact that one, that New or was it Kyu guy had not been lying when he spoke of a time travel potion and two, he had slipped him the potion on purpose when he wasn’t looking. He could feel the anger bubble up within him - the nerve of that guy! With pure, unadulterated fury in his eyes, his gaze swept across the room, looking for him. Kevin looked on, thoroughly puzzled.

“...Eric? Are you okay? You’ve got a weird look on your face.” He asked, concerned. “Eric?”

All anger had just dissipated from his being as his sights finally landed on you. There you were, standing all alone at the fireplace with a drink in your hand while your friend danced. The look on your face was one of loneliness and even from a mile away, anyone could tell you looked extremely awkward at having been left alone while she swayed up against Haknyeon, a guy he recognised from his Medieval History module.

From the corner of his eye, he could see the same dark haired guy he had seen approach you ‘earlier’. Following his gaze, Eric could feel his stomach drop as he realised that they were on you. From his body language, it was clear that he was about to make his way over and take his chances with you.

Just then, a voice at the back of his mind whispered softly.

“What are you waiting for?”

Taking a deep breath, Eric squared his shoulders and hurriedly straightened the jacket he was wearing. This is it. This is actually it. He was going to do it. His legs were moving now, one step after another in large strides towards you. The sound of his heart pounding was practically deafening to his ears and he could feel his legs turning into lead, each footstep heavier than the next. Squeezing past the crowd, another voice - this time insistent and panicky - suddenly cried out.

“No, don’t do this! What if you embarrass yourself and make yourself out to be a fool?”

Eric’s face paled. No, this is a mistake. What was he doing?

“Hello?”

Shaking out of his thoughts, Eric almost jumped back in shock at the sight of you just right in front of him. Before he even realised it, he had made his way over. It is now too late to back out. Had he been standing there like an idiot this whole time?

“I-I… Hey!” He squeaked out, his heart almost leaping out of his chest.

“You’re Eric right? Eric Sohn from Professor Kim’s introduction to accounting class?” You asked kindly.

From the corner of his eye, he could see the guy from ‘earlier’ approaching, pushing past the crowd and judging from his demeanour… It seemed like the competition was still in the game.

He needed to pull this off.

“Yeah, I am. Y/n right? It’s a pretty cool party, isn’t it?”

“Mhm! Pretty great so far! My friend is over there dancing but I’m not much of a party dancer so here I am,” you smiled and Eric almost forgot what he was about to say.

“I-”

“Hey, how are you guys enjoying the party?”

Eric looked up and his brows furrowed into an annoyed and anxious ‘v’. The dark haired competition merely grinned back at him though there was a certain glint in his eyes which made Eric clench his jaw tightly. It was the sort of gaze that was long enough to send a goading message - game on.

He smiled and extended a hand towards you, completely ignoring Eric. “I’m Juyeon, roommate of Jacob’s. I saw you from afar and thought I’d come say hi.”

You shook his hand, oblivious to the tension between the two guys. “I’m y/n. It’s nice to meet you.”

Juyeon briefly lifted his gaze to Eric and without anyone’s notice but his, he winked slyly.

“Revolting.” Eric thought angrily.

“I heard they have some really cool peppermint treats at the candy table, wanna come?” Juyeon asked and quickly Eric said, “I heard they have a great log cake at the snack bar though. I’ve heard people raving about it!”

You looked at the both of them, seemingly a little disconcerted. “Uh… I…” Juyeon shot Eric a scathing look which he returned with a smug smile.

“Who doesn’t love a good old log cake?” He asked, to which Juyeon rolled his eyes at.

“I mean… I do love peppermint…” You trailed off and Eric turned to you with wide eyes as big as saucers and Juyeon’s lips lifted into a smug smile.

“Excellent choice! I hear they have so many varieties…” Juyeon chattered on, placing his arm over your shoulder, leaving poor Eric speechless and red faced, watching helplessly as the two of you walked away from him. Turning behind you, you had an apologetic look on your face but said nothing.

“That’s too bad. I was rooting for you, you know?”

Eric swivelled around to find New standing behind him yet again, this time chewing on a piece of toffee. The time on his watch was clear as day as the red, glowing digits stared right back at him - 9:04pm. It had come full circle. He had the chance to turn things around but he had failed. Somehow, the nonchalant look in New’s face irritated him but he tried to remain calm. His gaze drifted down to the bulge in the man’s jacket pocket, tracing the faint outline of the tiny vial that contained the potion from earlier.

“At least we know now that I’m legit, right?” He winked at Eric, smirking as he did though it dropped when he saw the look on the latter’s face.

“Why are you-”

“Please, give me one more chance. Please just let me turn back time this one more time.” He pleaded. Eric was not one to plead but this time, he was feeling particularly desperate.

New looked at him like he had just sprouted an extra head before he burst out laughing.

“How’s that for a turn of the tables, Mr ‘thank you for wasting my time’?” He asked, still giggling. Clearly, he was taking much joy in this new dynamic - something Eric didn’t look too pleased about though he was not about to act on it. After all, it was New’s potion that allowed him this one more chance which he had quite unspectacularly let slip from his grasp.

“Alright, I suppose I could let you try this one more time though I’ll definitely be charging for your next usage.” New sighed, whipping out the vial. “I did want you to succeed after all.”

As Eric gulped down his drink, the familiar feeling of dizziness washed over him yet again, along with the looseness in his limbs and before he knew it, he found himself standing right where he was with you standing where you were previously.

This time, Eric squared his shoulders and ran a hand nervously through his hair. There you were yet again, standing by the fireplace with that drink in your hand.

“No hesitation this time,” he whispered to himself before he made his way over. He barely even paid attention to Juyeon coming in from the side as he struck up a conversation.

“Hey, y/n from professor Kim’s introduction to accounting right?”

You turned to him, looking a little surprised before you smiled warmly at him.

“Yeah! Eric, is it? It’s nice to see you here.”

“How’s things going so far at the party?” He asked, trying to keep the edge out of his voice. His nervousness was getting to him quickly but the thought of messing up yet again reined him back in and his smile stayed on.

You wrinkled your nose as if considering his question before you replied, “Well, it’s going alright so far. I’m not really a party sort of person but I thought I’d make an exception since you know, Jacob’s my friend.”

“I see! I don’t usually mind parties but I do like…” He paused as he saw Juyeon approaching, the gears in his head whirring away and you looked at him curiously.

“Eric…?”

“How about we go get some peppermint? I hear they have a variety here.” He suggested quickly, his eyes darting towards Juyeon’s direction.

You stared at him, looking a little perturbed but then grinned and nodded. “Sure, I love peppermints.”

Before Juyeon could even make his way over, the two of you had walked away, squeezing past the dancing crowd. The bass beat of the music was so resounding throughout the house that it almost seemed as if the walls were vibrating as well. The glitter and lights all around all looked stunning but perhaps a little too stunning as Eric made his way through the crowd with you just right by him. From all sides, people were accidentally bumping into each other and more than once, he almost lost his balance.

As the two of you neared the candy table, Eric realised too late that perhaps pushing past the crowd had been a bad idea and that a smarter way would be to stay out of the dance floor when he felt himself fall forward. Someone’s foot had been there and without looking, he had tripped over and landed with a huge thud on the floor, flat on his belly. His chin collided with the ground and if he had hit it just a little harder, had the impact been just a tad stronger, he might have suffered a serious injury.

Since you were just trailing behind him, his unexpected fall had sent you falling as well. As the both of you crashed against the ground, some members of the crowd audibly gasped as people shuffled out of the way. Though it may have hurt when he fell, Eric’s heart ached much more than the bruise he would no doubt sport on his knees tomorrow. Seeing you sprawled next to him and knowing all of this happened only because of him, he wanted nothing more than to dig a hole right there and then and leap right in.

A few partygoers reached out to help him up and right next to him, Juyeon appeared in front of you, extending a hand with a look of concern. Eric watched as the two of you looked into each other’s eyes and like in a fairytale princess bedtime story, you reached out tentatively to hold onto Juyeon’s hand as his heart fell to the ground with a messy splat.

“Y/n-”

“Are you guys okay?” Juyeon asked though it seemed as if he was only asking you in general.

“Yeah, we’re alright. Thank you.” You said softly, still seemingly a little frazzled.

“Come, let us go get you seated somewhere.”

Eric couldn’t help but simply stand there and look helplessly as the both of you wandered away, his heart feeling like it was about to shatter into pieces. A second chance he was given and he screwed it up and if that wasn’t enough, he was offered yet another shot which went worse than his first. Maybe it just wasn’t meant to be. Maybe no matter how many times he tried, tonight was just not the night. Or perhaps nothing was ever destined to happen between you two. The jolly christmas music was still playing but he no longer was in the Christmassy spirit anymore.

All he wanted for Christmas was you but it seemed that that didn’t seem so possible anymore, if not impossible.

As the partygoers resumed their dancing, all he could do was plop himself down on the nearby couch and do nothing except nurse not just his fallen pride but also his feelings which never had the chance to express themselves before it got completely shut down.

Grabbing a bottle of ginger ale from a nearby pack, he took a swig and felt the ale burn as it ran down his throat. Usually, he would have loved it but tonight, it just left a bitter taste in his mouth. Keeping his head down, Eric exhaled deeply. He ought to just give up completely.

“Hey, Eric.”

At the sound of your voice, his head snapped up and he gazed up at you with wide eyes. There you were, standing before him and looking down at him as he wallowed in his own feelings. How long have you been standing there? Why were you here?

“Y-y/n?”

You gave him a bashful glance as you sat yourself next to him. “Are you okay? Did you get hurt?”

“I… I… “ He simply stared at you, his mouth gaping like a fish and looking absolutely flummoxed. “Didn’t Juyeon-”

“I couldn’t possibly leave you alone.” You hurried to say and when he didn’t reply, you continued. “Do you… Do you mind if I sit here with you?”

It took Eric a second for it to register in his mind what you had just asked of him before he grew flustered just as the joy in him began to spark.

“Do I mind? No! Of course not! You’re welcomed here! Please, sit with me!”

As he chattered on nervously, you couldn’t help but admire the way his eyes would light up whenever he talked and how charming his smile was. He was in the habit of moving his hands around a lot which though some might find annoying, you only found to be endearing. You could feel your heart beating quickly which always happened whenever you were near him, saw him around class or even just at the mere mention of his name.

As you looked into his eyes, you felt yourself clench on tightly to the couch, the excitement in you simply immeasurable. You couldn’t help but smile as you felt the weight of the vial in your pocket. A worthy bargain indeed from the mysterious pink haired boy.

This was all you wanted for Christmas.

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Kiro’s Inspiration Date (Eng Translation)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date, 灵感之约, which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

An early birthday gift to the embodiment of sunshine, @moondusks​ :>

[ This date was released in CN on 7 December 2020 ]

A pleasantly warm and light breeze lifts the muslin curtains, bringing with it the fresh atmosphere of early winter.

Lemon yellow sunlight filters lazily through the trees, casting shadows on the window and carrying the scent of peppermint.

It’s an incomparably ordinary, and incomparably comfortable afternoon.

It’s very suitable for heading out and casting aside one’s cares - laying down on a grass patch, basking in the warm sunlight.

Or perhaps taking a stroll along the street, and sitting down in a cafe one has been longing to visit.

That’s what Kiro and I originally planned to do. 

However, the cruel reality is...

MC: Why does this proposal have to be done by next week ahhhh--

Kiro: Why can’t I write this song properly--

MC: Why do people need to be exploited by work--

Kiro: [sighs] And why are people constrained by inspiration--

Because of a sudden program, I have no choice but to work overtime.

And Kiro, who is about to record a new album, has remained dissatisfied towards the title track.

Due to the pressures of reality, we have to give up our original plans of having a fulfilling and happy date.

The both of us are working overtime at home.

Kiro: [groans] Farewell, my rosy weekend. Goodbye, my donuts and soup dumplings which have vanished into thin air.

MC: And brown sugar milk coffee, taro pies, and lava cakes...

Even though we sing the same tune, complaining dejectedly about not being able to go out, the both of us work non-stop on our tasks.

I can hear the crisp sound of Kiro tapping his pen rhythmically against the music stand. Occasionally, his soft humming can also be heard.

Seeing him working hard and struggling with himself, the corners of my lips lift upwards.

Even though we’re unable to head outside to do something interesting, it isn’t a bad thing to be together at home like this, channelling effort into our differing goals.

In some way, this should also count as a type of date.

I smile, adjusting my posture on the bean bag so that it’s more comfortable for typing, then continue immersing myself in the battle against the program proposal.

-

The proposal I’m working on is extremely urgent, and has to be settled by next week. 

Not only that, but this sudden program has an importance accompanied by a non-proportional preparation timing.

And during such a period of high stress, the goddess of inspiration, who typically shows concern for me, has gone on a faraway vacation, and has  completely vanished.

I have trouble writing. When I completely lose my train of thought, I exchange helpless glances with the few words on the screen.

In the end, I give up and pause the hands which have been maltreating the keyboard, preparing to pour myself a glass of water, and attempt to change my mood.

Lifting my head, I subconsciously glance in Kiro’s direction.

The curtains separate the room from sunlight, casting Kiro in a faint shadow as he leans against the window while composing a song.

Busy writing the new song, he hasn’t had time to maintain the state of his hair. 

Finding stray hairs a hindrance as they block his vision, Kiro holds a rubber band in his mouth, combing his hair to the back, and ties it into a small ponytail.

Those azure eyes stare at the music score in concentration. They are as clear and bright as always, but lack the flash of light he usually has when inspiration strikes.

Reference materials and abandoned drafts are scattered all over, which seem to isolate him on a higher platform which I’m unable to reach.

Completely engrossed in creating his work, even his languid sitting posture exudes a cold and lonely feeling for some reason.

For a moment, I feel slightly dazed.

Kiro: Let me guess. Is Miss Chips lacking inspiration, and having trouble writing the proposal?

Kiro suddenly removes his earplugs, turning his head to look at me. 

He shows me a brilliant smile, and the room is once again filled with sunlight.

MC: How did you know? 

He stands up as well, stretching himself, turning back into the him that I’m most familiar with.

It’s as though the him of just a few seconds ago was simply an illusion surfacing from work-induced stress.

Kiro: Hmm... since just now, the sound of your keyboard has been intermittent, unlike how smooth it usually is.

While he speaks, Kiro walks to the snack cabinet and rifles through it carefully, as though he’s a small squirrel searching for a pine cone from the hole of a tree in winter.

Kiro: So I thought - Miss Chips is probably just like me, entering a bottleneck at work.

He splits the low-fat and sugar-free healthy snack into half, placing it into my hand.

Kiro: A little reward for the hardworking you. Now, do you feel more motivated?

MC: It sounds quite embarrassing... but I don’t think I can work any harder.

I munch on the snack which gives me absolutely no happiness, saying this with a sullen expression.

MC: The presentation is next week, but I still have no idea how to go about writing the proposal. Right now, I just want to turn into an ostrich and curl up into a ball, avoiding the presentation meeting in a few days... and also avoiding my unmotivated self.

I turn the laptop towards him, letting him see the lonely and piteous 235 words in the document.

MC: I even want to knock on my brain forcefully, checking to see if new ideas will appear.

Kiro: Hmm... I see...

Kiro curls his finger, tapping it gently against my forehead. He leans closer to my ear and asks a question.

Kiro: Nice to meet you, Miss Chips’ inspiration. May I know if you’re at home?

Following his action, I close my eyes and sense it carefully.

After a short silence, I furrow my brows and lift my head, looking at him bitterly.

MC: Hello, the user you’re calling is not in service...

Kiro reaches out to rub the area between my eyebrows, smoothening out the creases on my face.

After ensuring that I’m no longer a “bun”, he sighs, laying down next to me.

[Note] Chinese buns (包子 - “bao zi”)  look like this i.e. they look like wrinkles:

Kiro: [sighs] Actually, I’m the same as you. There’s a song I especially wish to write, and I really like the concept and composition. I want to try writing a song on understanding and interpreting the theme of “love” from my own perspective.

He pauses, lifting his fringe with a wry smile. After give it a forceful rub, he causes his originally tidy hairstyle to become fuzzy.

Kiro: But no matter how I change it, I’m not satisfied. I keep feeling as though something is missing from the music. There’s no soul.

I untie the string, using a hand to smoothen his hair, helping him tie it up properly again.

MC: Whether it’s “My Treasure” or the song we wrote together last Christmas, aren’t they very incredible? They’re tender and sweet - it’s as though they can be sung into the hearts of every listener, enabling them to recollect the best memories.

Kiro: That won’t do.

Kiro flips over and sits up, his eyes serious.

Kiro: Those songs write about us. They write about you. I have several thousand ways to write about how adorable you are, but I don’t know which timbre I should use to face myself.

Not realising how potent his words are in causing one to blush, Kiro sighs once again after speaking, laying back down.

Kiro: [sighs] Looks like this time, we’ve both chosen subjects which are very difficult for us.

-

Kiro: Since we’ve both sunk into a major crisis--

Kiro: Want to try Kiro’s special, secret recipe and see if it can sort out our thinking?

Kiro shoots me a wink.

MC: Sure. Do I need to do anything?

Kiro: At this stage, all you have to do is sit here.

While Kiro speaks, he picks up the abandoned drafts he had casually thrown on the floor earlier, using them to enclose us within a square frame.

Kiro: This is the thinking box that we’re trying to escape from.

He sets down the final sheet of paper, completing this “box”, his tone light.

Kiro: Right now, we’re both locked in it.

MC: In that case, will the superhero help me break this box, so we can have a breakthrough together?

Kiro: Nope. 

Kiro steps out of the square frame made out of drafts, reaching out to seize Cello, who is sleeping soundly on the cat climbing shelf. Then, he places it in my arms.

Cello: Meow?

Kiro nods in satisfaction, then jogs over to the kitchen, bringing over some fruits.

Under the confused gaze of both me and Cello, he makes several trips in and out, bringing over soft cushions, comfortable blankets, and two cups of sugar-free hot chocolate.

Finally, Kiro shifts another bean bag over, and sits down beside me.

Kiro: I’m incredibly sorry to tell you that even a superhero can’t find a way to jump out of this box.

Somewhat pleased with himself, he takes me into his arms with one hand, letting me lean on him.

Kiro: But at the very least, I can keep you company in this box. And together, we can see what exactly in this box has left us so bewildered that we’re unable to get out even after such a long time. 

As he speaks, he tousles Cello’s fuzzy head, and it releases a comfortable meow.

Kiro: We can also decorate it a little, so the box is more comfortable. 

MC: Pfft...

I can’t help but laugh. The sense of dejectedness due to work earlier seems to be cleared up with his actions.

I reach out, pointing at a corner of the ceiling in a joking manner. 

MC: See that? Over there, there’s an MC who just can’t write a proposal, and she’s currently curled up and for waiting for mushrooms to sprout on her... I don’t know how to deal with it.

Kiro nods in understanding, pointing at a corner of the room.

Kiro: Ladies and gentlemen, look here. Here is a Kiro whose inspiration is stuck, and is currently drawing circles. 

MC: When you put it like that, it sounds pretty cute...

While he speaks, I more or less understand why Kiro went to such trouble to do this.

Kiro: That’s right. To me, whether it’s that ostrich-like MC, or that MC who has mushrooms growing on her, I want to hug all of them properly.

Kiro: And then tell her solemnly - that you’re already very amazing. Even if you don’t think you’re good enough, I still like you very much.

Kiro: Just as much as a little bear in winter liking the warm blue sky and green grass.

As he speaks, he tightens his grip on my hand, leaning his chin on top of my head.

Surrounding me are soft blankets and cushions. In my arms is a cat which has gone back to sleep.

Behind me, Kiro’s body temperature and scent encase me tenderly, making me feel so contented that I want to release a joyful sound together with Cello.

I close my eyes in happiness, nuzzling the crook of Kiro’s neck.

The things that were bothering me just a second ago, weighing me down with stress and emotions and leaving me unable to breathe, vanish like smoke and disperse like clouds.

It’s as though I’ve awakened from an incredibly long nightmare, discovering that sunlight is illuminating my surroundings, and that a cup of hot chocolate is waiting at the bedside.

MC: Kiro, why do you always know of such ingenious methods?

I lift my head to look at him, gazing at that blue colour which seeps into one’s heart, and the golden colour traced by sunlight.

Our foreheads lean against each other, and he smiles as he responds.

Kiro: You were the one who taught me these things. Why are you asking me instead?

MC: Me? 

Kiro: Last time, there were numerous occasions when I felt I couldn’t create works that were good enough, and I’d start to doubt myself. I’d lock myself in a corner, and start having internal fights with myself. 

Along with his words, it’s as though I see the Kiro I was barely acquainted with back then, and how he had endured several days and nights of work.

He had locked himself up in a room, helpless and frantic, not leaving any space for himself to breathe. 

Kiro: But during those times, you were always by my side. You told me that no matter how I was, you’d like me all the same. 

As he speaks, he taps on my laptop. 

Kiro: Actually, it’s the same today. 

Kiro: Don’t just look at how I appear now. Actually, I’m in a terrible state. 

Kiro: On one hand, I’m forcing myself to finish this work quickly. On the other hand, I’m so irritated and annoyed at myself, who lacks creativity. 

Kiro: There were many times when I wanted to just give up. 

Kiro: But...

He lifts a strand of my hair, twirling it around his fingertip. In the end, he pulls it to his lips, giving it a gentle kiss.

Kiro: Each time I heard your intermittent yet continuous typing sounds, I’d tell myself that next to me, you’re still working hard. 

Kiro: My Miss Chips is also feeling perplexed, but she’s still persevering in work. 

Kiro: So I told myself - how could I give up before you did?

Kiro: I must definitely persevere a little longer, so you see how dashing I am. 

Kiro relates this softly at my ear. His tone, which harbours a smile, sounds as though he’s depicting a treasure.

I indulge myself in his arms, greedily enjoying the present tranquility and warm atmosphere for a while longer.

I always feel that Kiro is a star whenever I go off course. He always illuminates the pathway, pointing the way forward for me. 

Actually, without even realising it, it’s because we’ve seen each others’ light that we could press on.

Encouraging each other, and feeling the way forward in the darkness. 

Until we break through the predicament together.

MC: Thank you, my superhero. I think I’ve regained the ability to fight a little more.

A soft chuckle brushes my ear. Then, a warm and gentle touch is planted on my lower jaw. 

Reminiscent of the whiskers of a kitten brushing past, spreading into a plain of sweetness.

Kiro: At your service anytime, my Miss Chips.

-

With that, Kiro and I sit in the “box” together, resuming our work. 

He lays on the ground, scribbling and drawing on the music sheet, while I hug the laptop to myself, working hard to squeeze out a proposal.

The typing sounds on the laptop remain intermittent as before, but no longer have the sense of repression and frustration from earlier.

With his presence, I actually manage to complete a draft of the proposal without realising it. 

It isn’t excellent, and there are many areas which require editing. Nevertheless, I’ve already tided over the most difficult period.

I move my neck and shoulders, then shift a little closer to Kiro.

Same as before, Kiro is wholly absorbed in the music sheet in his hands.

Even though I can’t tell his current progress, based on his expression and posture, he should be the same as me, breaking free from the lowest point of production.

I observe him quietly for a long time. In the end, my playfulness triumphs, and I think of pulling a tiny prank on him.

Lifting Kiro’s right hand, I burrow into his arms. 

MC: Surprise~

Probably not expecting me to do this, Kiro is left dumbfounded. However, he subconsciously props himself up and hugs me. 

Kiro: Miss Chips?

MC: A little reward for the hardworking musician.

Saying this, I tilt my head upwards and give him a light peck on the chin.

My sudden attack and the closing of distance between us enables me to successfully capture the faint redness on Kiro’s face.

Kiro: ...mm, how’s your proposal doing?

MC: At the moment, there are positive prospects.

Just like this, I wrap my arms around his neck, tousling his soft, golden coloured hair.

Because of my action, the ponytail is now in disarray.

I simply hook my fingers underneath Kiro’s rubber band, untying it, feeling the softness of his hair in between my fingers.

MC: How’s your song doing?

Kiro: At the moment, there are positive prospects.

He mimics my words, inserting one earplug into my ear.

A somewhat rough demo occupies my hearing.

I close my eyes, immersed in the music he has given to me. My fingers twirl the wire of the earpiece, tracing the rhythm.

Kiro: Although it isn’t done yet, the overall main key won’t change.

It’s a somewhat slow tune.

It's quiet, and even brings with it a heavy and melancholic melody. It’s reminiscent of a self-reflection, and also like a careful recount.

Kiro: Even though this tune is a little sombre, I still wrote it. 

Kiro: Because I know you’d definitely say that you like such songs too.

MC: Of course.

I say this with certainty. He smiles and lowers his head, the tips of our noses gently touching.

MC: Kiro, I came across a saying once.

MC: The process of writing a song is actually a writer’s conversation with himself.

MC: Although I don’t know what you said to yourself, if this melody is your answer, I like it very much.

Our drifting breaths channel a temperature slightly higher than the sunlight.

MC: Including these slightly heavy portions - I like them very much.

Saying this, I crinkle my eyes, humming along with the melody from the earpiece.

Kiro releases a sigh, hugging me tightly.

Kiro: [sighs] Why does this song become so sweet when you hum it? 

Before I can respond, Kiro continues. 

Kiro: [laughs] It must be because MC is a jar of honey.

He nods with force, seeming to be very satisfied with this answer. Then, it’s as though something occurs to him, and he plants a kiss on my forehead. 

Kiro: See? It’s very sweet.

MC: What...

I laugh, pretending to push at his chest.

MC: Looks like I have to stay a little further away from you next time, so you won’t become overweight.

Kiro: Hehe, it’s already too late! My feelings come in large portions, so it’s too late to say that.

Kiro presses me against the woollen blanket, embracing me with even more strength than before.

Kiro: Miss Chips has already been firmly held onto by me.

Kiro: I’ll leave a stamp.

While he says this, he nibbles the side of my neck half-jokingly, and half-declaratory.

He doesn’t use strength, but the electric-like sensation makes me forget how to breathe for a moment. 

The charmingly tepid air leaves my cheeks burning crimson.

Kiro’s hug is tight, yet very careful. It’s as though he’s embracing the one and only treasure in the entire world. 

MC: It’s not like I can really run away...

Not minding my soft mumbling, another kiss descends on the shell of my ear, as though seeking a confirmation.

His breaths lift up strands of stray hair near my ear. They brush against my earlobe, as scorching as his lips.

Kiro: MC, I’m actually timid and a little childish.

Kiro buries his head in my shoulder, speaking softly.

Kiro: When it comes to things I don’t like, I’ll always think of hiding them and locking them up. I won’t see them, and I won’t let other people see them.

Kiro: But if it’s you...

I secretly take a few deep breaths, cradling his face a little stiffly yet carefully, tilting my head upwards. 

MC: Thank you for trusting me.

Kiro: ...

Kiro’s eyes widen slightly, and his lips part and close. It’s as though he wants to say something, but returns to a blank.

At the end of a short silence, Kiro speaks solemnly. 

Kiro: I’ll definitely finish this song. 

He lowers his voice slightly. Even though this sentence is as light as a feather, I know that he’s as serious as making a vow. 

Kiro: I’ll definitely finish this song, and sing various versions of myself to you in the future.

Kiro: Even the parts which are heavier, and the parts I’m unwilling to face myself.

MC: Mm. I’ll definitely listen earnestly.

Following the trail of his spine, I stroke his back lightly, giving him my promise.

Kiro: I know. 

Kiro: It’s precisely because no matter what melody it is, you’ll definitely sing it into a song akin to honey.

Kiro: Which is why I have such courage. 

I no longer speak, only giving him a serious nod.

Both his breathing and heart beats can be heard, regular and steady.

Kiro: Since we’ve reached an agreement, should I leave another stamp?

Kiro’s voice is once again light-hearted, even carrying with it a twinge of slyness. 

MC: Wait! The most important thing now should be noting down the hard-earned inspiration before it goes away!

I grip several music sheets at the side, pressing them against his chest, attempting to flee from his arms.

MC: Get to work quickly!

Kiro: Why are you like this?

Kiro pouts, showing me his signature, puppy-eyed expression of dejection.

MC: I won’t be duped by your gaze again. I’m going to become a merciless supervisor, so you can finish your work before the deadline!

Seeing that his plan has been foiled, Kiro simply gives up “pretending”. With a smile, he grips my struggling wrist, pressing it to the side. 

MC: Where’s your professionalism? Could it...

A prolonged kiss seals up the words I haven’t spoken.

Kiro: It’s exactly because of my professionalism that I can say with certainty...

Kiro smiles, his sapphire-like eyes radiating an azure colour even more eye-catching than the clear skies of winter.

Perhaps he hasn’t realised it himself, but he looks at me with the most burning and clear gaze, sticking out the tip of his tongue. Like a dragonfly flitting across water, he wets his lower lip.

Kiro: Before my inspiration vanishes, there’s still time to act coquettishly with my favourite Miss Chips.

-

Phone calls: First // Second

[combat-wombatus]

Hot Cocoa

Pairing: Iida Tenya x gn!reader

Warnings: brief cursing (mostly just bakugou being bakugou), some suggestive humor (m*neta is involved too)

Genre: fluff (a lil bit of crack bc why not)

WC: a bit over 8k? went slightly overboard with this idea and not entirely happy with the ending but i already rewrote it like 5 times so it is what it is-

(A/N): heya! so this is my first fic and i was kinda nervous about posting it...

it started out as an idea on @todorkihoe’s discord server but then it evolved into this monstrous nightmare so...it took me like a whole week to hash everything out and the logistics of the secret santa thing was an absolute nightmare. but it was worth it!!

It was the holiday season. Most people were taking time off of work to hang out with their friends and family. You had wanted nothing more than to relax in your hot tub with a glass of sparkling cranberry juice and scrumptious holiday cookies, but being a pro-hero meant sacrifices.

You were signed on as a sidekick in the UA Hero Agency’s Tokyo branch. The UA Hero Agency was exactly that: a hero agency formed by the most illustrious graduating class at UA. Not everyone from their class eventually went into the agency, but they were a large agency, with around 36 pro-heroes working full-time. This meant that they had several branches. You, a recent graduate from UA, knew these heroes who were a year above you at UA. They were special. When you started at UA, there were already whispers about “the Class of Legends”. Every single person who graduated the year after had been through enormous trauma during their years at UA. You thought that they were true heroes: strong, unbending even in the face of overwhelming adversity. They were only in their first year when they had been attacked by villains: twice. One of them had even been kidnapped. You couldn’t even begin to fathom how hard they must have worked to get to where they were today. They were resilient, and it showed. The UA Hero Agency is now one of the top Hero Agencies in not only Japan, but also the world. In fact, with their combined power, you wouldn’t be surprised if they happened to make an international branch. You knew that some of the heroes at your agency, Can’t Stop Sparkling and Pony, wanted to start something overseas but didn’t yet have the manpower to make it happen. You were sure that within a few years, their ranks bolstered by new graduates, they would take UA to the international stage.

So it was Christmas Eve. Even though you wanted the chance to chill out at home with some relaxing instrumental jazz and freshly baked sweets, you were out patrolling Tokyo’s vibrant shopping sector instead, on the lookout for villains who wished to ruin everyone else’s holiday fun. The mall was abuzz with shoppers, some hanging out in the verandas with cup of hot cocoa in their hands, others hurrying through, their arms loaded with shopping bags, searching for last-minute gifts they had previously forgotten to purchase. It was definitely not the worst patrol ever. The cozy atmosphere almost had you sighing in contentment, before you heard a voice shout, “thief!”

Of course a villain had to ruin the fun. They had a tendency to do that. You weren’t very comfortable using your quirk in such a loud, crowded area, but you bet that you could catch a small-time shoplifter without it anyways. You raced through the crowd, tracing the voice that had called out moments earlier. You saw a tuft of orange hair weaving unnaturally through the crowd of shoppers, and sprinted forwards, your eyes locked on the target. You followed the path they had created unknowingly for you, trying not to draw attention to yourself. It would only slow you down and light a fire under the criminal, which was exactly what you didn’t need.

Within moments, you caught up to them. Sneaking up behind them, you snatched their wrist and smacked your quirk-suppressing cuffs on it.

“Fuck!” He swore. How did he get caught so quickly? He could have sworn that there was no one chasing him. Pesky heroes. Relying on the comparative lack of heroes patrolling during the holidays, as well as the customary holiday shopping rush, was a sound strategy. He had done the same in previous years without getting caught. If only that damned, nosy civilian hadn’t shouted…

“Please do not resist arrest. It will be easier for all parties involved. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say may be used against you in a court of law. There are eyewitnesses to your crime. Please drop your bags and hold out your other wrist.” You said calmly. You had a beautiful voice. It was calming and had a lilt to it that was a byproduct of your quirk. The villain did as you said, knowing that there would be no escape.

You sighed. Pressing a button on the comms situated in your ear, you reported the situation back to your office. You then called the nearest detective station and waited until their patrol car got here so you could hand the man over. Glancing at your watch, you realized your patrol was almost over. You did one last sweep of the premises, then headed back to the agency.

Today, the agency was the emptiest you had ever seen it. It was a large building, with 20 above-ground floors. In fact, it was essentially a mini-city. There was a heated indoor pool, a sauna, an elite gym that would make fitness junkies drool, a massage and spa, three verandas, and a rooftop greenhouse. It had a café reminiscent of the UA cafeteria, and all types of cuisines were available. In fact, Lunch Rush’s niece was working in the café, and the food was always heavenly. Sometimes, heroes from other agencies would drop off at the UA Hero Agency just for a bite of food after a long patrol. It was the unofficial headquarters of all the hero agencies in Japan, and it certainly lived up to its reputation.

Thinking about the café, you were suddenly hungry for some pad thai. Arriving at the door, you dropped off your comms and cloak at the door to your office and headed down to the café for some food.

“(Y/N)!!! You’re back!” Your friend squealed.

“Yeah Mina, just got off of patrol. Arrested this shoplifter trying to take advantage of the holiday chaos.” Spying her coat in her hands, you realized she was on her way out.

“Cool! You’re always so efficient with your arrests. Anyhow, I’m going to head home. My parents and I are getting some dinner together. I’ll be back for the party, yeah? Don’t open any presents without me!” Mina waved, a grin on her face. You assured her that you would make sure everyone waited for her to celebrate. You wanted to see your parents too, but they were currently on an international tour. They were famous singers, pioneers of a new genre of music. It was a sort of lullaby, but it wasn’t meant to put people to sleep. It was more of an enchanting, calming kind of music present only in fantasy books before your mother brought it to life. She was wildly popular, and your father was only too happy to support her. Speaking of which, your phone rang in your pocket. You took it out and accepted the video call.

“(Y/N)! It’s so nice to see you baby! How’s it going? I know you had patrols today but I forgot about the time difference and your father had to stop me before I called you and distracted you during patrols! He’s always so paranoid you’ll hurt yourself, sweetie. Stay safe, okay?” Your mother was always cheerful.

“Yeah mom, I know. I’m doing pretty well, actually. I arrested a shoplifter today,” you replied, recounting the same story you just told Mina. “Everything’s pretty calm here. How’s your tour going? I missed you,” you asked her.

“That’s good to hear sweetie!” You mom smiled. “The tour is amazing. I’ve never had such an international turnout before! Maybe I need to start considering singing in other languages! Everyone’s always so supportive.” You smiled at her, happy that she was enjoying herself.

“You deserve it Mom. I’m glad that your music is appealing to an international audience. You always work so hard. It’s nice to see that people appreciate all that you’ve done.”

“Thanks sweetie. Here, I’ll let your dad talk to you for a bit.” There was a bit of shuffling on her end as she handed the phone over to your father.

“Hey sweetheart,” your father’s voice boomed through the phone. You held your phone away from your ear, wincing a bit. Quickly dialing the volume down, you responded.

“Hey Papa. Mom said the tour was going well.”

“Yeah, it is. How’s the holidays going for you?” You heard the slight sadness in his voice. You knew that he wanted Mom to take a break in the middle of the tour and spend Christmas with you, but Mom was adamant about it. It was a holiday tour, after all, and tickets had already been booked. Some people were going to see her concerts as a way of celebrating, and she wouldn’t let them down.

“I’m doing good. It’s pretty peaceful here. No big missions or anything,” you say, in an attempt to comfort him.

“Ok, that’s good to hear sweetheart. We miss you.”

“I miss you too, Papa. Don’t worry though, I’ll be here when you guys get back. Have fun in Paris!” You replied, suddenly feeling sad. “Bye Papa! Bye Mom! I’ll see you guys soon!” You blew a kiss to the camera and hung up. Sighing a little, you trotted towards Emiko, the revered chef.

“Can I have a pad thai please?” You asked, putting your phone back in your pocket.

“One pad thai, coming right up!” Emiko beamed. “So, I hear there’s a party tonight. Should I make anything special?”

You thought about it for a bit, then shook your head. “No, you don’t have to. It’s mostly just for the presents. We already have the booze covered. I think Momo is ordering some special hors d’œuvres already and Sato is taking care of the cookies. Are you coming?”

Emiko shook her head. “I’m spending the night with my family and my boyfriend. I think I might make you guys some tiramisu though. I have all the ingredients and I don’t want them to spoil since I’ll be gone for a few days. Desserts are my specialty anyways,” she added. Then, with a knowing smirk, she prodded your arm. “Do you have anyone on your mind? You know, Mina and Ochaco hung some mistletoe up before they left…”

You blushed. Of course they did. Your friends knew all about your one-sided crush. You also knew that he would still be working here. He was always working. You were pretty sure that he had the mind of a robot, focused only on his work and his legacy. With those hand motions he made, you weren’t surprised if he actually was one. You shook your head to get rid of these thoughts. Emiko didn’t know. At least, you didn’t think she knew. You really regretted telling Mina about your little crush. With her tendency to run her mouth, you wouldn’t be surprised if the entire agency knew already. With the exception of your actual crush, of course. He was simply too socially dense to see the signs and too uninterested to pry.

Taking your pad thai, you scurried away from a smug Emiko and plopped yourself down at a table. You dug into your noodles and sighed in contentment. Maybe working during the holidays wasn’t so bad. It wasn’t like you had friends who weren’t as busy as you were anyways.

You finished the last of your noodles, then got up and took your tray to the recycling area. Heading up to your office, you paused by Ingenium’s office. His door was cracked open, and you peeked inside. You had to muffle your giggles at the sight.

He was wrapping presents with such a focused look on his face that you found absolutely adorable. His brows were furrowed, the tip of his tongue poking out of his mouth. He had a spool of ribbons laying on the floor next to him, as well as elegant white-and-gold wrapping paper and a roll of tape. What really amused you was the pile of paper, ribbons, and tape that was bunched together and tossed aside, obviously a result of trial and error. Iida looked frustrated. He had already put his presents in boxes so that they were almost uniform in size and easier to wrap, but he was clearly struggling. You estimated that he had forty boxes littering the floor, but he only had five wrapped. You watched as he ripped off the wrapping on the newest box he had started on, muttering about how hard it was to get straight edges with the wrapping paper. Knocking lightly on his door, you stuck your head around the doorway.

“Need some help?” You asked.

Iida looked up from unspooling more wrapping paper. His face brightened at your offer.

“Yes please, (Y/L/N)-san! I would greatly appreciate your aid. I seem to be having trouble folding the paper and trying to tape it together without it sliding from its position. If you could hold the paper in place while I tape, that would be wonderful!” He looked so excited, almost like a puppy.

You smiled at his eagerness. “Of course, I’d be happy to help.”

You sat down across from him and held the wrapping paper in place while he tore off a piece of tape. The two of you worked in tandem for around an hour, until you finished wrapping all the presents. You sat back, face flushed, and surveyed your work. All forty presents, wrapped with elegant paper and tied up prettily with a gold organza ribbon, were laid out neatly on the floor. It was a satisfying sight. Rolling out your back and cracking your knuckles, you got up from the floor.

“Those were a lot of presents, Iida-san,” you yawned, stretching your arms back like a cat. “Do you want to go down and get some hot cocoa? Emiko already left, but I can make us some.”

Iida got up too. His glasses were slightly askew on his face, and he had a dazed look about him. “That would be greatly appreciated, (Y/L/N)-san. Thank you very much for helping me wrap my presents. It was irresponsible of me to leave them until the last minute.”

“Of course, Iida-san,” you replied. “We were all so busy before the holidays I’m surprised you wanted to wrap everything as fancy as you did. I know that I just stuck my presents in bags, covered them with tissue paper, and called it a day! You didn’t even buy those sticky bows, you tied them with real ribbons. That’s dedication!”

Iida blushed furiously at your compliments. It’s the perfect time to confess to her, he thought. We’re alone, and there’s no one here to see if she rejects me. He took in a deep breath, trying to muster the courage to say something to you, but before he could, you grabbed his hand and dragged him down the hallway for some much-desired peppermint hot cocoa.

Humming lightly to yourself as you lead Iida down the halls, you entered the elevator and pressed the button for the ground floor. Releasing his hand, you clasped your hands behind your back, hoping he wouldn’t notice how they were shaking slightly. Wow, you thought. I really did that. I really just snatched his hand like that. Ugh, he probably hated it every second of the way, he’s just too polite to say anything. God, my palms are so sweaty. Why did I do this to myself?

Unbeknownst to you, Iida was having a mental freak-out of his own. Ahh! She grabbed my hand! And she didn’t seem to hate it! Does this mean she really doesn’t mind my company? Maybe I actually do have a chance with her! No, stop, he told himself. She was probably just tired of how I was staring at her and decided to do something about it. Ugh, I was staring at her, wasn’t I? God, I’m such a creep. Iida wiped his palms on his slacks, then reached up and adjusted his glasses, trying to hide the obvious blush on his face.

“Ding!”

The elevator stopped at the ground floor, and the two of you stepped out into the lobby. The decorations had been up for two weeks already, but it still took your breath away every time you saw it. There were garlands of lights strung high all over the ceiling, and dainty little ornaments hung from the chandeliers. There was a huge Christmas tree next to the fireplace, the floor around it coated in snowy fuzz. You had to resist the temptation to jump in on multiple occasions. You couldn’t help yourself! It just looked so fuzzy and comfortable, like clouds of cotton candy…

The Christmas tree was decorated tastefully. There was a surprising lack of hero-themed ornaments, mostly due to Momo’s elegant decorating. You had all been in agreement when you refused to let Kaminari or Mineta even touch the tree.

Making your way to the kitchen, you relaxed a little when you breathed in the apple-scented candles. It was a surprising choice for a holiday scent. Usually, pine or cinnamon were much more popular scents. You had gotten the privilege to choose the candles though, and although you almost fainted sniffing at every single scent in the candle store, you decided on apple. It was nice and refreshing, with just a subtle touch towards the holiday season. You liked the change of pace from the usual holiday scents, and it seemed it was growing on everyone else too. You stopped at the cabinets that contained the hot cocoa bombs. Emiko had seen these as an online trend with the food community, and she had made dozens of them “as an experiment”. Everyone fell in love with them (because heroes are allowed to be childish!) and they stuck. Now, the agency had an entire cabinet in the kitchen dedicated to the delightful goodies.

“Oat or regular?” You asked Iida.

Iida had, unfortunately, spaced out again. He was thinking about how cute you looked, standing on your tiptoes to reach the cabinet.

“Hello? Earth to Iida-san,” you turned around and waved a hand in front of his face. “You okay there?”

Iida blinked and had to recompose himself again. He kept getting distracted. This was not good. Not good at all.

“Regular is fine,” he replied, his face flushing once again. He really needed to stop daydreaming.

You poured out some milk into a jug and heated it. Then, you placed a hot cocoa bomb in each mug, licking some sprinkles off your fingers as you did so. Once the milk was ready, you filled each mug to the brim, careful not to spill any. It smelled absolutely delectable. Taking a spoon from the cabinets, you stirred both cups slowly, letting the chocolate melt at an even pace.

Iida was watching all of this, and he was still having an internal debate over when to confess. Would it be better to wait until you both finished the hot cocoa? Should he even confess to you on Christmas? What if his confession ruined your holidays? He began to sweat a little, his anxiety rising with each thought. Before he could come up with an excuse to escape, you stuffed a mug into his large hands.

“All done!” You exclaimed, taking a sip of your own cocoa, careful not to burn yourself.

Iida was not so lucky. Distracted by his thoughts, he raised the mug to his lips and gulped.

“Shit!” Iida swore. You blinked at him, a little shocked since he never swore, then immediately put your mug down and raced to the refrigerator to collect some ice cubes. Iida promptly put his offensive mug of cocoa on the counter, glaring at it like it just murdered his dog. Dumping some ice cubes in a glass, you hurried back towards Iida and popped one in his mouth.

“You really should be more careful next time, Iida-san,” you chided. “I just made it! You shouldn’t take such large swigs of a piping hot drink!”

“Sorry, I got distracted.” Iida replied absentmindedly.

“Distracted? By what?” Your curiosity was now piqued.

Iida’s face turned ever redder than before. He averted his eyes and mumbled out some quiet words that you couldn’t quite catch.

“Sorry, what was that?” You gazed up at him. “I couldn’t hear what you said.”

Iida’s hands were stuck to his thighs to prevent himself from freaking you out with aggressive hand gestures, and he didn’t think he’d ever been more nervous in his entire life. He cleared his throat. “I said that I got distracted by you.”

Now it was your turn to blush. “Really?” Your voice was quiet, almost a whisper. You weren’t sure if you heard that right, and your heart was beating so fast you were afraid that he’d hear it.

Iida finally looked at you. “Really,” he confirmed.

You wrung your hands and stepped towards him. Raising your eyes to meet his, your voice a half-whisper, you gulped before your next words.

“I like you.”

Blinking twice, Iida unclasped his hands and pinched his forearm. He winced in pain, then blinked again. You laughed at his antics, then clapped a hand playfully on his bicep.

“I’m real, Iida-san. I’m right here!”

Slowly, a grin crept up Iida’s face. “Really?” He mumbled, obviously still not entirely convinced he wasn’t dreaming.

You chuckled at how you had just asked the same thing moments earlier, but then you grabbed his large hand with your smaller one and squeezed.

“Really.” You smiled bashfully.

The two of you stood in silence for a while, then Iida spoke up.

“I like you too, (Y/L/N)-san.” Feeling bold now that he knew his feelings were reciprocated, he drew his other arm across your shoulders and drew you into a tight hug. You sighed, feeling comfortable and safe in his arms. A part of you wanted to stay like this forever and never wanted him to let go.

“Would you like to go on a date with me on Saturday afternoon at 3?” Iida’s voice rumbled in your ear.

You were bursting with excitement. A date! A real, formal, date! “I’d love to, but why so specific?” You giggled.

“Ahh, well, my patrol ends at 2:30, so I thought-”

Of course Iida volunteered for patrols the weekend after Christmas. Did this man ever take a break?

“No problem at all, Iida-san. That sounds lovely.”

Iida released you from the hug and rubbed lightly at the back of his neck. “You can… you can call me Tenya, if you’d like.”

You were smiling so big that you feared your face would split. “I’d love that, Tenya.” His eyes crinkled when you called him by his first name. “And you can call me (Y/N).”

Iida nodded his head. “(Y/N). I like that,” he said to himself. He muttered your name a few times, getting used to the way it rolled off his tongue. You blushed and hugged him again, pressing your nose into his chest. He was just too adorable.

You wanted to stay like that, but your phone dinging incessantly in your pocket made it uncomfortable.

Mina

(Y/N)!!! my parents ordered this WHOLE-ASS TURKEY for dinner with JUST THE 3 OF US!!! how we gon finish it all?!?

Mina

*burps* we did it. we finished all of it. the whole turkey. (Y/N). we. finished. a. whole. fucking. turkey. pls send help i can’t walk (Y/NNNNNNNN)!!!

(Y/N)

want me to call u an uber … mina mina MINA MINA DID U PASS OUT im calling an uber mina istg

Quickly sending an Uber to the restaurant Mina was at, you put your phone back in your pocket and looked up at Tenya.

“Hey. Do you wanna get your presents and put them under the tree?” You asked.

Tenya quickly straightened up. “Thank you for reminding me, (Y/N). I had almost forgotten about them!”

“No problem!” You chirped. “Let’s go!” You took his hand in yours again and lead the way to the elevator. As the elevator chimed, the two of you waltzed in, hands still clasped together.

Humming a little tune to yourself, you stepped out of the elevator. You and Tenya entered his office, and each returned with an armful of presents, carefully stacked as to avoid damaging the delicate ribbons the two of you had spent so much time tying.

It was a tradition in the agency to get everyone something small. However, you participated in gift exchanges every year. This year, it was a Secret Santa-type exchange, but the UA Hero Agency did Secret Santa’s a bit differently. Instead of giving your partner the gift on Christmas Eve, the gifts were labeled with typed name tags in generic Times New Roman font. Then, there was the guessing portion. Everyone got 3 guesses at the party when they first open it, and after that, they get one guess per week. Whoever held out the longest (avoided being guessed) would win a batch of Sato’s homemade cookies, a week of free food from Emiko, and two patrol coupons (basically the adult version of homework passes). This year, you had drawn Bakugo as your partner. You’d decided to get him a ¥4,000 gift card to his favorite ramen restaurant, as well as a high-quality leather jacket. The gifts were pretty generic, and you thought that you had a chance at the prize. You chuckled to yourself when you remembered that last year, Momo had been so frustrated when she hadn’t figured out who had given her a pretty earring and necklace set after two months that she’d used Creation to make fingerprint dust and swiped it all over the box. It had turned out to be Todoroki. Needless to say, he’d won the prize that year.

The two of you made a few more trips, carrying gifts from his office to the tree. Checking the time, you saw that it had been an hour since Ochaco’s patrol ended. Right as you were about to call her, the front door to the lobby burst open.

“(Y/N)!!!” Your friend screeched, holding up a kitten with fur the color of cinnamon. “Look what I found on my patrol! I had to take her to the vet really quickly to make sure she wasn’t hurt, and she didn’t seem to have an owner. Just look at her!”

You beamed. The kitten was absolutely ADORABLE. And not only was Ochaco safe, she brought a kitten back with her!

“Can I hold her?” You asked.

“Duh!” Ochaco passed the kitten from her arms to yours. Behind her, you saw Bakugou walking sullenly, arms drawn tight across his chest. You stifled a giggle at the sight. He obviously wanted a turn with the kitten too, but his pride wouldn’t let him as for it.

“We were coming back from patrols and I saw this little one stuck in a tree! And when I floated up to take her down, she just looked so sad. There wasn’t a collar on her or anything, so we took her to the vet. It seems like she was abandoned,” Ochaco pouted. “And so we asked the vet to vaccinate her and everything, and we brought her back here! Can we keep her? Mr. Grumpy over there already said yes.”

Tenya looked like he was about to object, seeing as this building had a no-pets policy, but then he saw how your face lit up and the idea and changed his mind. Maybe having a pet on the premises wouldn’t be too bad, he conceded. It’s not like there were other people sharing the building with them anyways.

“Of course we can keep her!” You squealed. Bakugou huffed a sigh. He’d have to deal with all these idiots fawning over the kitten for weeks, and he wasn’t happy about that, but there was no denying that the thing was cute. He’d mellowed out since his high school days and seeing a therapist for anger management classes certainly helped.

The kitten felt warm and fuzzy in your arms, and when you stroked it down its back with the palm of your hand, it let out a satisfied purr.

“What should we name her?” Ochaco asked.

You thought about it for a moment. “Well, since you found her, and her fur is brownish, why not Coco?”

“Coco! I love it!” She beamed. Coco purred again. “It looks like she likes it too!”

You smiled and looked down on the kitty. “Coco,” You murmured. “Welcome to the family.”

Just then, Mina burst through the doors, brimming with energy and not looking at all as if she’d fainted from turkey overconsumption.

“Mina!” You ran towards her. “I thought you fainted or something!” You accused, poking her in the chest. “You didn’t even leave me on read!! You just LEFT!”

“Chill, chill, girly, I’m alive and kicking! Just had to take a quick nap because of my digestive woes,” She flashed you a big thumbs-up. “And what’s this I see? Do we have an agency pet now? Did Shinso sneak it in his pocket from the cat cafe?”

“Shinso what?”

“Cat cafe?”

“I KNEW there was something fishy about his jacket the other day!”

You, Tenya, and Ochaco said at the same time.

Mina stared at all of you, then shook her head. “Never mind.”

Turning around, you looked at Ochaco. “I wanna hear about this later, you hear?”

“Alright, alright!” Mina shouted. “Change into your holiday gear! Let’s get this rolling!”

You had made a sweater especially for tonight. Knitting was a great way to relax, and huddling up in a cozy armchair with the soft yarn, some hot cocoa, and your favorite book, you had finished your holiday-themed sweater in two weeks. Now, you would finally get the chance to wear it. The sweater you made was white, a soft gold-and-silver threading woven through in the pattern of snowflakes. It was a basic winter pattern, but you were proud of your work.

Setting Coco down on the couch, you headed into the locker rooms to change into your sweater and some flannel pajama bottoms. Walking out, you noticed Tenya was still in his business attire, which looked pretty uncomfortable by your standards, although it did fit him nicely.

“Tenya,” you called out. “Are you wearing that to the party?”

He turned around at your voice, looking slightly taken aback. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I am. Why?”

“Nothing, just wondering,” you replied. Good thing that your present to him was a nice, cozy, hand-knit sweater. You may or may not have thought about making him a matching one, but then you’d decided that it was too forward.

“You look…” Tenya stared at you. “You look…cute,” he said, with a small blush on his face.

Blushing at his compliment, you smiled and ducked your head. “Thanks.”

“Your sweater…it looks nice,” he added.  

Playing with the hems of your sleeves, you smiled up at him bashfully. “Thanks. I made it myself. I really like knitting. It’s kind of therapeutic.”

“Oh, wow. You are truly very talented, (Y/N)!” Tenya praised.

“Thanks.” You rubbed the back of your neck. It seemed like you had lost the ability to say anything else. Why did you suck so much at making small talk?

Just then, Mina stepped out from the locker room and saved you from any further embarrassment.

“Hey, has Yaomomo come down yet?” Mina asked.

“No, she hasn’t. Do you want me to go get her?” You answered.

“Nah, it’s alright, I’ll just text her real quick.” Mina pulled out her phone, fingers dancing rapidly across the screen, then put it back in her pocket. Minutes later, Momo stepped out of the elevator, already dressed in a red sweater and white jeans. She always looked so put-together. You were sure that she had a second quirk.

“Yaomomo!” Mina screeched, running up to her friend. “You’ll never guess what I ate for dinner!”

You groaned as Mina recounted her dining disaster. You loved Mina, but her tendency to tell her experiences to everyone multiple times could sometimes get a little annoying. Trying your best to tune her out, you tapped Tenya’s shoulder and moved to settle on the couch with Coco.

“Hey, (Y/N)!” Mina shouted. “Come here!”

Begrudgingly, you stood up again, having just sat down moments earlier. “What is it, Mina?”

“We forgot to introduce Coco! Yaomomo hasn’t seen her yet!”

Oh right. You did forget. You lifted Coco with both hands, then scurried over to where Ochaco, Mina, and Momo huddled. Momo let out a quiet “aww” when she saw the kitty and lifted her manicured hands in a silent invitation to hold her.

You gently placed Coco in her outstretched arms and was about to turn and leave when Mina grabbed your elbow. “Not so fast, (Y/N),” she scolded you sternly. “Picture time!”

Mina took out her phone and swiped open the camera app. You girls all huddled together as she snapped a picture for the fans.

Settling back down with Coco on the couch, surrounded by your friends, you didn’t think that you had ever felt happier. One by one, more of your friends and coworkers began to trickle in, until finally, when a disgruntled Jirou arrived with a protesting Kaminari in tow, Mina stood up.

“Alright! Everyone’s here now, so let’s get this party rolling!”

She bounced off to the kitchen to grab plates for everyone. You could smell Sato’s freshly-baked cookies from here, and your stomach growled in response. Remembering the tiramisu that Emiko had made, you followed Mina into the kitchen.

Mina held a stack of plates that covered half her face. It was wobbling slightly, the entire thing almost toppling over multiple times. You had gotten out the fancier cake platter and was currently in hyper-focus mode, carefully moving the tiramisu from its cake mold onto the crystal platter. You breathed out a sigh of relief as the process was finally completed and the cake hadn’t been ruined.

Holding the crystal tray with both hands, you stepped out into the lobby, marched over to the coffee table in the center, and slowly set the tray down.

“Hey guys, Emiko made us some tiramisu,” You called out. “Come here if you want some.” You held a cake knife in your hand and began serving everyone.

Tenya watched all of this with barely-hidden admiration. You were just so competent. So hard-working, so kind, and so wonderfully skilled at everything you do. Even the things that you weren’t good at, you tried your hardest to learn and to improve. He was definitely in deep, and to be honest, he didn’t mind a single bit. You were worthy of being admired, and he vowed that he would let you know in all the ways he could.

As you served the last slice of tiramisu to Ojiro, you carried the cake platter back to the kitchen and sat down next to Shinsou, who was, not surprisingly, hogging all of Coco’s attention. Seeing you, Coco scrambled over Shinsou’s lap and faceplanted into yours. You laughed at her enthusiasm and snorted when you heard Shinsou mutter “traitor” underneath his breath.

“So Shinsou,” you started casually. “What’s this I hear about you stealing cats from the cat café?”

Shinsou’s face immediately turned a tomato red. He put his hands up defensively. “No, wait, you have it all wrong- I swear- who told you about it anyways? Never mind,” he stopped his waving motions. You snickered. You were definitely getting the full story out of him later. For now, you had things to do.

Strolling over casually to Tenya with Coco still in your arms, you very sneakily dropped her, front paws landing gracefully, onto Bakugou’s head.

“Hey! What’s this damn cat doing here!” Bakugou yelped. Coco also yelped, and it came to you that dropping her on Bakugou’s spikey hair was probably not the best idea ever. However, as Coco quickly scampered down and curled up on Bakugou’s shoulder, and Kirishima was sitting next to him to make sure he didn’t kill the cat, you felt a sense of triumph. Bakugo was smiling. Not smirking, not grinning maniacally as he beat someone up, but genuinely smiling. You gave yourself an internal high five as you moved onto your next goal.

You walked hesitantly towards Tenya, and when he turned his head towards you, about to ask what you were doing, you quickly linked your hand with his and started leading him towards the rest of the group.

“(Y-Y/N) ?” Tenya sputtered. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” You replied cheekily. “I want to hold hands with you!”

“B-but, do they know?” Tenya gestured nervously with his free hand.

“Nope, but they’re about to,” you grimaced, thinking about all the teasing you’d have to endure from your friends later. Better to just get this over with during the party, when everyone had the attention span of a goldfish and any embarrassing moments would hopefully be forgotten moments later when more exciting things came along, such as Mineta’s annual lingerie gift. Whatever the powers that be were doing, they were definitely not doing the world any favors when they let Mineta draw a girl for the Secret Santa every single year. But, for all the bad things you could say about Mineta, he definitely consumes enough material to have at least semi-decent taste in lingerie. Surprising, and sometimes gross, but not entirely unwelcomed if you could manage to forget who gifted it. The most disturbing thing was he knew all the girls’ sizes. You tried your hardest to not think about that. It’s not like you could erase his memory anyways.

You settled down with Tenya on a vacant couch, inwardly counting the minutes until someone noticed your position. Tenya looked vaguely uncomfortable, his posture ramrod straight, and you squeezed his hand in reassurance.

“No one’s going to judge or anything, if that’s what you’re worried about,” you whispered into his ear. “And besides, at least half the girls already knew I had a crush on you, so this won’t entirely come as news to them.”

Tenya relaxed slightly at that, then stiffened again when he noticed a pair of eyes glancing his way.

Midoriya had been excited at seeing Ochaco for the first part of the evening, but then had wondered where his other friend had gone. He knew Tsu was in southern Japan, as she couldn’t stand the cold and was operating in the warm coastal areas instead, but Iida being absent was strange. He had searched around the lobby, and when his eyes descended upon you and Iida cuddling on the couch, he was intrigued, to say the least.

He stared at the two of you for a solid minute, not wanting to disturb your peace. Slowly, he turned back to Ochaco, thinking that it wasn’t his place to draw attention to the two of you.

Ochaco, however, had no such qualms. Noticing how Deku began to space out during their conversation, she followed his line of vision to the two of you, blinked twice to check if she was seeing it right, then immediately let out a squeal.

Heads turned at the sound, and in moments, everyone was staring at you and Tenya curiously. You hadn’t noticed the attention yet, but Tenya had, and he grew stiffer and stiffer until you finally looked up at his face with furrowed brows.

“Tenya, what’s wrong?” You whispered. “Do you not enjoy cuddling? I can stop if you’d like,” your lips were pressed together in concern.

“I-it’s not that,” Tenya whispered back. “Look.”

You finally raised your head from his chest and saw thirty pairs of eyes staring back. After a few moments of silence, the room erupted.

“Iida-kun! Why didn’t you tell us?” Midoriya was the first to raise a question.

“(Y/NNNNNN)!!!!!!!!!!!” Mina practically screamed as she ran towards you. She clasped her hands dramatically over her heart. “YOU DID IT YOU DID IT YOU DID IT OMG YOU GUYS ARE SO ADORABLE EEEEE!!!!!!”

Half the room winced at her loud tone, and you quickly moved Coco from your lap to save her from the incoming bear hug.

Mina launched herself in your arms, then stepped back and shook your shoulders until you felt your brain rattling around in your skull like soupy mush.

“(Y/N)! What did I say, huh? Bitch I TOLD you that he liked you too, and you wait three goddamn months to finally make a move!?! Honey-”

Your face flushed red. Gently, you pushed her away. “Mina, stop,” you whispered, horrified that she was making a scene. It was too late. Ochaco and Hagakure rushed towards you, Momo trailing more slowly behind them. The boys were stunned for a bit, since you had always seemed so quiet and shy, much less Iida’s feelings towards you. As their initial shock wore off, Midoriya trailed after Momo to approach Iida.

“Congratulations, Iida-kun!” He held up his arms in front of his chest. “You and (Y/N) are really cute together!”

“Yeah bro! That’s so manly that you finally confessed!” Kirishima added, with a quirk of his lips and a thumbs-up.

“Tch. Fucking coward. Took you idiots three fucking months to confess, huh.” Bakugou smirked, but you could tell he wasn’t really annoyed. You actually somewhat got along with him, due to all the times Mina would drag you to hang out with her friends.

You struggled vainly against the arms of your friends encasing you. “Guys,” you pleaded. “Let me out, please.”

Reluctantly, the girls let go, and you immediately tried to redirect their attention. “Shouldn’t we start opening presents?” You asked hopefully.

“Oh, you sneaky little thing,” Mina wagged her finger in your face. “Don’t think we’ll forget about this, (Y/N), but you’re right, we should start opening presents or we’ll be here all night.”

“We’ll be here all night anyways,” Todoroki pointed out.

“You knew what I meant,” Mina sighed.

Mina enlisted the help of Ojiro and Shoji to pass out the Secret Santa presents; you’d all open the rest of your personal presents later.

The best way to go about this, after years of trial and error, was for everyone to open their presents at the same time. It would simply take too long for everyone to open theirs one by one, and you’d all realized that the people who opened theirs first had a significant disadvantage when it came to guessing who their partner was, as the ones who opened theirs later had the benefit of some options already being eliminated. When you opened your present, you tried your hardest to hold back a squeal. It was a limited-edition album from your favorite artist! You hugged it close to your chest, and immediately knew who gave it to you. Jirou. Her parents were musicians too, and you had bonded over your love of this artist. It was a thoughtful gift, and you were glad that she had given it to you, even though it immediately gave her away.

The rest of your friends opened their presents. Poor Momo. No wonder Mineta had looked so gleeful earlier. He had been her Secret Santa and had gotten her a lacy black lingerie set. Her face was so red you were beginning to get scared that she would hyperventilate, but you had to admit that it was a pretty nice set. Mineta was basically drooling at this point, and Jirou was trying to comfort her while sending a death glare towards Mineta. Mineta, meanwhile, had received a new video game. Sero had received a large pack of farmer’s market coupons, as well as some homemade mochi from Ochaco, who had blushed and apologized profusely for not being able to afford something better for him. Sero just grinned and gave her a thumbs-up, saying that it was completely okay and that he appreciated her effort into gift-giving. She had brightened up a bit at that.

Koda had received a new hamster wheel along with some toys for his various pets. Shoji had been gifted a comfortable-looking poncho, as well as three pairs of matching gloves. Ochaco had received a generous sum of money, Midoriya had gotten a new set of comic books, and Iida had received a beanie and a multiflavored pack of tea. Aoyama had received a makeup set, and had gifted a makeup set as well, evidenced by his inability to contain himself and pounced on Hagakure, asking if she liked it. Hagakure was ecstatic, babbling about how she could finally show her face and how she’d never really been able to afford a full set before and how Aoyama was so considerate.

Sato had received a new baking pan, as well as cute mittens and a trending recipe book. He had given Setsuna a batch of cookies, as well as a gallon of frozen cookie dough with instructions on how to make it. There wasn’t really a point in him trying to win the contest, since he would be one of the people providing the prize. Mina had gotten fuzzy socks and a blanket, Kirishima had received a new pair of tennis shoes, and Jirou had been gifted a new pair of headphones. Ojiro had received some sort of custom tail armor with spikes along with an Amazon gift card, and Todoroki had gotten a hand-made red-and-white sweater with a red reindeer nose smack in the middle, along with a gift card to a hair salon, tucked into a bouquet of red-and-white candy canes. The only person you could think of that would go so far into the color scheme was Hagakure, who seemed like just the type to make an ugly sweater for fun. Shinsou had received earmuffs, a silk eye mask with a note (“to help you sleep”), and some gourmet coffee beans (“in case you still can’t”). Mina had seen the little notes that came with his gifts and started teasing him relentlessly about how sweet his Secret Santa was and how it was so cute that he had a secret admirer. Shinsou looked very nonchalant about it all and grumbled about how he just wanted to pet Coco and then go to bed.

Finally, Kaminari received some Pokémon cards to add to his collection (yes, he collected Pokémon cards, what was wrong with that?) along with another Pikachu plush, as per usual. It was an unspoken tradition that whoever drew Kaminari for their Secret Santa would get him a Pikachu plush along with whatever else they decided to give him. He had about twenty, collected over various years from birthdays and holidays. If this kept up, he’d be able to fill an entire closet with them once he retired.

As the chatter slowly died down, you snuggled into Tenya again. At some point during the present exchange, Shinsou had stolen Coco from the couch you occupied. Stifling a yawn, you pulled out a bag and handed it to Tenya.

“What’s this?” He asked, a slight smile on his face.

“It’s your gift, silly,” you booped him on the nose with your index finger.

“Ah, I see,” he replied, still smiling. “Do you want me to open it?”

“Duh,” you giggled into his chest. “What else would you do with it?”

Chuckling lightly, Tenya removed the tissue paper from the top of the bag. He stuck his hand inside, then pulled out a sweater. The sweater that you’d knitted for him. It was navy, the color of the yarn matching his hair, with gold and white snowflake detailing. His heart skipped a beat when he realized that you had made this especially for him, with your own hands. Putting the sweater down beside him, he wrapped his arms around you and pressed his face to your hair.

“Thank you, (Y/N),” he whispered. “I love it.”

You flushed, but you hugged him back. “You’d better,” you teased. “I spent two weeks on that.”

“Well, I appreciate it.” Tenya ruffled your hair.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, just soaking in the pleasant atmosphere. Yawning, you stretched out your arms, careful not to hit Tenya in the face. You gently pushed his arm off of your torso and got up to go to the bathroom.

When you came back, Tenya was nowhere to be seen. You searched around the common area and stepped briefly into the kitchen, but he wasn’t there. Sighing, you grabbed your parka and padded outside.

“Tenya?” You called out as you stuck your head around the doorframe. He was with Kirishima and Todoroki, clearing the entryway of the building of snow. You leaned back along the handrails of the stairs and watched. Your friends were all just so nice. So caring, so wonderful, so kind. As Todoroki evaporated the last bit of snow, you stepped aside to let them all head back in. As Tenya reached you, he paused briefly, looking up.

“What?” You tilted your head up also, curious to see what he was staring at. Oh. So this was where Mina and Ochaco had decided to hang the mistletoe. If Tenya hadn’t looked up, you would’ve missed its existence entirely. You looked back down at Tenya to gauge his reaction.

He gulped, and softly taking your chin into his hand, he leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss on your lips. You leaned up to meet him, rising slightly on your toes and wrapping your arms around his neck. The kiss was long and sweet, and you were both a bit breathless when you let go.

You smiled sweetly up at him and took his strong hand in yours. Standing on your tiptoes again, you pressed another soft kiss to his cheek.

“Merry Christmas.”

Masterlist

[hockeyboysiguess]

dear winter | c. parakyo

a/n: this one was entirely inspired by and written to dear winter by ajr. highly recommend listening to this while you read. this is your reminder that vince dunn isn’t the only player on the blues. enjoy!

warnings: a little swearing. otherwise, alllllll fluff. 

word count: 6K

You sighed as you felt a firm kick to your bladder. You had to give it to her, your baby had great aim, something she’s definitely inherited from her dad since you couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn with a baseball even if you were being coached through each movement. You rubbed your growing bump softly, a vain attempt to get her to relax, before you grabbed the full file box. Colton would be upset if he knew you were moving boxes without him. You loved Colton, god, did you ever love your husband, but he was treating you like you were going to break any second. He had as soon as you’d told him you were pregnant. You tried to fight him on it, but if Colton wanted something to go a specific way, there was pretty much nothing you could physically do about it. He was a physical immovable force. You settled for doing things when he wasn’t home.

You huffed out a loud breath as you sat down on the couch with what would be your fourth box of the day. You had been trying to go through everything in the room that was going to become “Little P’s” nursery, as Colton called her. You were also using it as an excuse to actually clean out your catch-all spare bedroom instead of just moving the problem of having too much stuff from the bedroom to the attic.

You sucked in a deep breath before blowing off the layer of dust from the top of the box. You lifted the lid and sighed. It was absolutely packed with papers and notebooks, Colton’s notebooks. He religiously kept notebooks, not a diary, not a journal. He rolled his eyes whenever you called them that, telling you that they weren’t diaries or journals because he wrote anything in them, from grocery lists, to hockey plays he thought of, gift ideas for you, anything. He also refused to get rid of a single one, much to your chagrin, but the least you could do was label them with the dates they contained to organize them. Thank god you’d pulled the label maker out for the last box so you didn’t have to get up. Getting up wasn’t your specialty anymore, thanks to Little P being a little less little since her father was a large human being.

You cracked open the first notebook after shaking off more dust, flipping to the first page to grab the date and the last page for the final one. Colton’s notebooks had never been any of your business. You thought he had every right to his private thoughts, something that had absolutely floored him when you started dating. Every other girl had tried to read over his shoulders, sneak a peak when he wasn’t around, but you trusted Colton, which is what you’d told him then and still told him now every time he picked up another notebook. The next notebook opened with a silly drawing, it made you giggle, but you didn’t pry further, simply adding your label and moving on to the next one.

Your brows furrowed when you came to a notebook toward the bottom. Unlike the rest, which were heavily worn in, the pages wrinkled and fanning out, making them appear thicker, this one was only partially started. The wear stopped about three-quarters of the way through it. You found it odd. Colton always finished everything he started, even if it was virtually impossible for him to do so. He was the least wasteful person you’d ever met. You shook off your thoughts. His notebooks were his business, not yours.

Still, regardless of you trying otherwise, your eyes flitted to the first entry in this notebook. The start of it pulled your eyes in unwillingly. It was a letter, a letter to someone else. Your heart sank and you slammed the notebook shut. No, you thought. Colton would never, but then who was he writing to? Your heart was aching in your chest. You trusted and loved your husband more than you ever thought possible for yourself, but your mind was running through possibilities and you needed to know. When your eyed scanned the first words, the tears started to slip out even though you willed them not to.

Dear Winter, I hope you like your name I hope they don't make fun of you When you grow up and go to school, okay? 'Cause Winter is a badass name

Colton’s words continued and your tears kept flowing.

Sorry if you don’t love it, baby girl, but I do and unfortunately for you, one me and one other person get to vote on it and I’m all in for it. Also, I’m not really sure where I got the idea to start this, but I’m two sentences in and I hope one day you think this is as cool as I do right now.

Anyway, I wanted to start by telling you what made me think of your name. I was walking through Forest Park (I’m playing for the Blues right now, in case that ever changes, so I’m in St. Louis) because I was having a pretty terrible day. I botched something at practice, couldn’t get the play right, and coach got angry at me. You probably know I don’t handle people being angry with me well because I doubt that’s ever going to go away. I found out the woman I was seeing actually cheated on me (I know, weird to read from me, but I hope you stick through this one) and I’m missing my family a lot today. (Side note: please come home more, Winter. I love you.)

So I was having a terrible day and decided to take a walk. It was chilly, but sort of comforting. It smelled like it was about to snow. I really hope you know that smell too, sort of like Christmas Eve, my favorite day of the year, as I also assume you know. Then, it started to snow. It was that beautiful, promising fluffy snow that makes me think of hot chocolate and peppermint and family. That’s when I really thought about you for the first time, Winter. I thought about us outside in our front yard, your mom on the front steps, and you catching snowflakes on your tongue. I thought about how you’d ask me to build a snowman with you, even though the snow wasn’t even sticking to the ground. I thought about you, Win. Winter. Some people hate winter. Some people love it. That’s also why it’s your name, Win. You might not be everyone’s cup of tea, Winnie, but that’s okay. You’re not meant to be for everyone. You’re meant to be exactly who are you as you’re reading this. 

I'm hoping that some day, I can meet you on this Earth But shit, I gotta meet your mom first

Love, Dad :) 

You placed your hand gingerly on your swollen stomach as the tears flowed freely. Colton wrote the first letter in the notebook seven and a half years before today. He’d been writing to her, the little girl still growing in your belly, for years, before you’d even moved to St. Louis let alone met Colton for the first time. Of course Winter would take that moment to kick you in the stomach. Winter. You loved her name too. You’d been racking your brain all day since you’d found out that Little P was a girl, not the boy you were convinced you were having based on your apparently flawed mother’s intuition, so when you found out Little P was a girl, you’d be wracking your brain all day for both a way to tell Colton and what you might name her. Somehow, even though he didn’t know yet, Colton had already taken care of another worry of yours, a man who didn’t know how to love you wrong. 

You couldn’t stop yourself from turning to the next page to read the next entry. Unlike his notebook he used every day, the next entry picked up a few weeks later.

Dear Winter, I hope you talk to girls Or boys or anyone you like

It’s been a few weeks since I’ve written to you, but I heard something out a bar that made me come home and immediately grab this notebook. Sorry if this is a little unclear. Dad’s just a little drunk right now, but I want you to know how important this is and I wanted to tell you as soon as possible.

This guy at the bar was being... absolutely awful, Win. This girl was just trying to have a good time with her friends. She was wearing a pin on her jacket with the pride flag on it. This guy started asking her about it. She shrugged, said she was bi, and she moved on. Except he didn’t move on. I heard him talking to his friends, talking terribly about her. He was talking about her sexuality and what it could do for him, how good it would be for him that she was bi. It didn’t sit with me right, so I warned her what he said and she said something that stuck with me so I wanted to tell it to you. She said, “God, thank you for telling me. I’m so fucking tired of guys sexualizing my sexuality for their own sexual gratification. It has nothing to do with them, you know? It’s my sexuality. It’s for me and me alone. I thought it got through all of the bad stuff when my parents kicked me out for it. It just keeps on coming, you know? Fucking sucks.”

Winnie, whoever you like, boys, girls, both, neither, people who don’t identify any particular way, if you know deep down you’re not my little girl, but you’re my son, I’m always, always, always, always going to love you. I will always be in your corner, Win. My love for you will never change. My support for you with never waiver. I will stand with you a pride parades. I will advocate for you. I will do anything I can to make sure you know you are loved and supported and that you can always come to me. I will always protect you, Winter. I will always love you.

If you’re reading this and you haven’t come out yet, the door is open, Win. And I’m standing right there, arms wide open, ready to love the truest version of you, the version of you that makes you feel like your most authentic, happy self. Whenever you’re ready, I’m ready.

Love, Dad

You felt your heart pound hard in your chest. Colton had never wavered on loving whoever your baby was going to be, but this, this was something special. You took a deep breath and looked down at your bump again.

“He loves you so much,” you told her softly as you gently rubbed your bump. “You have the best dad in the entire world. I just hope my genes don’t screw you up too much.”

You flipped to the next entry, laughing to yourself at how it was filled with entirely with car buying advice. Apparently, Colton has just bought a car the day he wrote it and he was keen on sharing his newfound wisdom with Winter. He also talked about how he was going to help Winter buy her first car and exactly what that would entail. It was such dad advice, but somehow it was perfect and it was Colton.

You kept reading, an entry an unknown amount of dates deep, caught your eye. You weren’t sure how deep into this you really were. You were flying through entries, Colton’s loving words pulling you through each page at a lightening pace. This one caught you eye though.

It really doesn't seem like there's anyone for me But dear Winter, I hope you like your name You know I cannot wait to teach you how to curse But shit, I gotta meet your mom first

You think your mom is going to like that I’m cursing in these letters? Probably not. But hopefully she’ll deal. I mean, I play hockey. Cursing is part of the game basically. I hope I teach you well. :)

You know, Win, I saw a couple out at a restaurant today and they were so in love. I, on the other hand, got stood up on a date today. Super fun, right? And super weird to hear from your dad, but it’s the truth. As smooth as I’ve tried to make myself look your whole life, Dad’s not really all that fucking smooth, Winnie.

But anyway, I wanted to tell you that it doesn’t matter if you ever find someone, Win. I wanted to tell you this because I need to hear it right now and even if when you first read this, you don’t need to hear it, I’m betting at some point in your life you will need it. You can achieve every single dream you have without a partner. You can have the life you want. You can have a family. You can make a beautiful life for yourself all on your own. Because you aren’t looking for your other half. You’re a goddamn full, beautiful, powerful person all by yourself. You are complete just as you are and that’s fucking amazing, Winnie.

Am I writing this for you in the future or me now? That’s debatable, but someday you’re going to need a reminder that you are a galaxy of beautiful, stunning possibilities. You are the sun, moon, stars, planets, and everything in between. A galaxy doesn’t need anyone or anything else. Always remember that anyone you let into your life should be in wonder at the galaxy that is you.

Sorry, Dad’s going to get off his weird soapbox now and go to bed. I’ll write you soon. Pinky promise :)

Love always, Dad

You gripped the notebook tightly in your hands, careful not to wrinkle the pages. You briefly thought about how you’d never read one of his notebooks before so maybe pregnancy hormones weren’t the best time to start, but this notebook was for someone. It was for the baby in your belly, so you kept reading. 

Dear Winter, 

I met someone today. I don’t want to say too much, in case it doesn’t work out. It never really works out for me, does it, Winnie? I hope a) that your mom has much better luck with men than I do with women and b) that you inherit her luck. At least I got her phone number, right? Maybe I can figure out how to sounds less like a guy that really like writing in notebooks and puzzles and more like a guy who is all about parties and adventure?

Actually, no, Win. No. Don’t listen to that. Be whoever you want to be, whatever that looks like. If some guy doesn’t like you because you’re a homebody, reject him and toss him out in the street. He’s clearly no good. Be whoever you want to be, Win. A homebody, a busy body, whoever that is, I’ve got your back for the rest of my life. 

(Side note: this girl is super, super pretty and she’s wicked smart with an incredible sense of humor. Kind of hoping this one works out? If not, then I guess on to the next one, right? If not, I’ve got to meet your mom one day, Win. We’ll see when it happens, I guess.)

Love, Dad

Your eyes scanned back up the page to the date. You breath hitched it your throat when you saw it and your hand came over your mouth as your eyes started to fill with tears again. It was about you. That was the day you met Colton for the first time. That memory was burned into your brain forever because it was honestly one of the worst days of your life, until Colton walked in.

You were about to give up. Four cups of coffee at varying degrees of strength had done nothing to stimulate an idea in your brain. Well, it would have been five cups of coffee if you hadn’t spilled the third cup down yourself and stained your favorite sweatshirt that was now a crumpled mess in your backpack. Despite that, you were still face to face with a blank Word document that needed to be six pages long by midnight tonight, which was less than twelve hours away. Procrastination always got the better of you. Today was no exception.

You had opened your day with a trip to the dentist and of course, you had a cavity. You didn’t realize until you got back to your car that your house key wasn’t on your key ring, so you couldn’t go home and your roommate was going to be out all day, so you’d had to post up in your fourth favorite local coffee shop as shops one through three were completely packed. You’d had to park six blocks over because you couldn’t find a spot. All of this chaos had wasted almost two hours you were supposed to be working. Then there was the spilled coffee, which you spilled because your terrible ex-boyfriend had shown up and tried to talk to you. In an effect to escape, the coffee had gotten spilled. To boot, after actually drank coffee number three, your mom had called you and told you your childhood dog had cancer. It was just one of those days. She was fifteen, so you couldn’t say she didn’t live a good, long life. Still, it was a terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad day.

Your music was blaring in your eyes. You were rapidly flipping through Spotify trying to find something that might provide some inspiration. You sighed and rested against the back of the chair as your head fell back. You let out a long sigh and carded your fingers through your hair. Ideas or not, you needed to get started. That went out the window when you saw a large man standing next to your table when you lifted your head. He gave you a sweet smile and a small wave. Your eyes rolled up and down him quickly. He was massive, broader and taller than most people you knew. His size could make him intimidating, but there was something cautious and nervous about the way he moved. One of his large hands was shifting around his iced coffee. The other was fidgeting in his pocket. His smile was kind and inviting. His shoulder were low, hunkering down as if to try and look smaller than he was. It was his eyes that took your breath away for a second, a pair of beautiful baby blues framed by dark glasses.

You yanked one of your headphones out of your ears and raised your eyebrows at him.

“Hi,” he said softly. “Um, all the other tables are full. Do you mind if it sit? I’ve got an appointment in half an hour, so I won’t be in your hair for too long.”

You almost stuttered, but pulled yourself together in time to say, “Oh, yeah, sure.”

He thanked you with a sweeter, wider smile as he dropped down into the chair opposite you. He dwarfed it, and the small table you had stationed yourself at. He was just slightly too big for everything around him, but he didn’t seem to mind much. 

“I’m Colton, by the way,” he told you as he opened up a book you hadn’t realized he’d been carrying. 

You told him your name softly before you tried to get back to work. Every minute you had was precious at this point to meeting your deadline. Beautiful man or not, you had to get this done. Except he seemed to have other ideas. 

“What are you working on?” he asked you after a few minutes. You’d caught him eyeing you as you finally got some sort of an idea, so your fingers were blazing across your keyboard.

“Oh, just this project for work,” you answered flatly, not even looking up from your screen or pausing your furious typing to answer. “I got into this fight with my boss about it because I think her premise is wrong, so I’ve been having some issues trying to write this condensed summary of her position considering I disagree with it. But, hey, a job’s a job, right? At least I’m employed enough to keep my cat fed, the hungry bastard, and support my own coffee habits without a sugar daddy.” 

Colton laughed and like your life had sudden become a movie, the sound took your breath away. You couldn’t stop a smile from pulling up the corners of your lips as he laughed. His laugh sort of made you forget how embarrassing what you’d just said was. 

“Is he fat?” Colton asked before quickly adding. “Your hungry cat, is he a fat bastard as well as a hungry one?” 

“The fattest bastard of them all,” you laughed as grabbed your phone from next to your laptop to show him a photo. 

Colton whistled when he saw the photo and nodded softly. 

“Put a ribbon on him and you could enter him as a prized heifer in the county fair,” Colton joked, making you smile widely, your first genuinely thrilled smile all day. 

“I got him fat from the shelter,” you tried to explain. “I’m trying to put him on a diet, but he’s just not having it. Honestly can’t blame him. Diets are dumb. But the fatso won’t exercise. I got him one of those cat wheels, like a giant hamster wheel but for cats. He barely fits on it and even on the days he finds his balance enough to fit on it, he won’t use it. I’ve sort of thrown in the towel.” 

“I think he’s decided how he wants to be in life and you might just have to accept it,” Colton told you. “I’ll stop bugging you, sorry. I said I wouldn’t.” 

With that, he turned his attention to his book and you went back to your paper. You sat across from him for the next thirty minutes, occasionally taking glances over at him. You found out later on that he keep looking up at you over the top edge of his book the whole time. You somehow just never caught each other.  

As Colton got up to leave, he paused for a second with his phone in his hand, spinning it nervously. 

“Um, I know this is probably sort of random and you’re probably not interested, but would you maybe want to get coffee again sometime you don’t have to do work?” Colton asked you, stumbling over practically ever other word on his way to asking you on a date.

You smiled softly as the memory faded out. You placed your hand on your bump again. Thank god the first three coffee shops had been full that day. You gently turned to the next page then the next one and the next one, stopping when the start of another grabbed you. 

Dear Winter, don't move too far away And please don't say I'm hovering When I text you to ask about your day I wanna hear about your day Will we still hang out and talk when I'm no longer in charge?

I’m sorry if you ever think I’m hovering, Win, but I promise you, I just want to hear about your day, every single day. Sorry if you move far away for some incredible opportunity and I don’t handle it super well. You know me, your old man, I just want you to be able to catch up with you whenever I want to. I’m a little selfish that way, I guess. 

Who knows? Maybe by the time you move, teleportation will be real :)

But if you can, Winter, try and stay close to home. I miss my parents a lot, more than I can properly explain. I know you’re going to be so cool and smart and amazing and you won’t need me someday, but I hope you want me around anyway, even though I’m a lot sometimes. 

(Side note: That girl I talked about a while ago, she’s the one who made me think of this letter. I told her I was scared I was hovering too much, that I was smothering her, and she told me she wanted me around even more. I think you’d like her, Win.)

Hold on for someone who cares about you exactly as you are and loves the way you care about people. You shouldn’t have to change the way you care for someone. They should just feel it. 

Love, Dad

(P.S. Whenever you read this, please come home for a visit, even if you were here yesterday. I’ve definitely missed you since then.)

Your mind flashed back to Colton’s first road trip a few months after you started dating. You had a busy day, absolutely packed with meetings and work, so you’d barely had any time to glance at your phone all day. When you finally had a second to glance at it on the way to your car, you groaned. Two missed calls and four texts from Colton. Of course, the day he managed to find some time away from the guys to call you when you were supposed to be done with work, you had been kept late and missed him. 

You were already dialing his number as you dropped into your driver’s seat to begin the traffic-filled journey home. Colton answered on the second ring. 

“Hey.”

Your brows furrowed at his tone. He was trying hard to sound calm, but you could hear the nerves edging at each letter. He swallowed hard, hard enough you could hear it over the phone. 

“What’s up, babe?” you asked him as you slowly backed out of your parking space. “Is something wrong?” 

“No, nothing,” he said too quickly. He knew he’d said it too quickly the second it had left his mouth. He sighed and you heard some rustling on his end of the phone, following by a door being shut. “I’m sorry I bugged you today.”

“What?” you asked, even more confused than you had been previously as you turned on your right blinker. “You didn’t bug me, Colt. I asked you to call if you were free anytime outside my work hours. I just ended up working late today, that’s all.” 

“Oh, okay.” 

You could tell there was still something bothering him. His pitch was too high, responses too short. He was still on edge, something bigger dancing on the tip of his tongue. He knew you knew. You could read him like an open book even through the phone and he knew better than to not tell you when he was upset. “Relationships thrive with windows and doors open,” was what you always told him, and it takes two people to keep them open all the time.

“Am I hovering?” he blurted out. “Am I bothering you? I just, when I called you again, the guys started-”

“Those idiots that couldn’t keep a girl if they had a carefully curated list of instructions from the girl they liked to tell them how to keep her? They don’t know anything,” you jumped in. “You’re not bothering me, Colt. You never bother me. I want as much of you as I can get. If my life was you just and me, having our favorite lazy Saturday where we go to the farmer’s market, play Scrabble, make bad cocktails, and cook unnecessarily complex dinners before we watch some niche movie practically no one else on the planet has ever seen, I’d be so unbelievably happy. I want as much of you as I can have, Colt, and sometimes I feel like I’m asking for too much. You’re not hovering. I want you right here.”

“You’re not asking for too much,” he replied. Of course, Colton would ignore everything you had said to comfort him in favor of comforting you. “You’re sure I’m not too much? I can do less, if that would be better for you. I can, fuck, I don’t know, whatever you need.” 

“Colton, I love you,” you sighed. “That’s the easiest thing in the world to say to you. I love you, Colton. I love loving you. I love being loved by you. At least, god, I hope you love me back because now I’m realizing we’ve never actually said that and I’m sort of freaking out, but I love learning to love you better and I love finding new ways to show you I love you. Today’s way is actually telling you I do, I guess.” 

“Of course I love you too.”

Colton’s words had reminded you of a prayer, a prayer of a grateful man whose longing, desperate words to something out there that he’d whispered ages ago had finally been answered. You didn’t know how long he’d felt it, definitely longer than you, but love wasn’t a competition. There wasn’t a yardstick, a to-do list, or a formula. Love was whatever you made it to be. You loved Colton, and finally told him, and he loved you, and finally told you. That day, that was all either of you needed.

That day was so clear in your mind. It was the day that set your life on the path it was on, the day that really had started the path that ended up with little Winter being more than a figment in Colton’s mind when he wrote these letters. She was real and you were going to meet her in just a few short months. Your mind wandered forward, seeing Winter’s wide baby blue eyes, you imagined she’d look like Colton as well, hoping your genes didn’t taint his too much to ruin her, as Colton had her sitting on his broad shoulders, securing her safely to him with hands around her ankles as you walked through the zoo. She would be pointing at each animal, tugging on his hair, making sure he saw each and every one. He would be patient, kind, and caring, matching Winter’s excitement in kind with each animal. You would catch him on Google the night before, making sure he knew at least one random, uncommon fact about each one for her, just to make her day. That was the kind of thing Colton said he would do for her to you when you’d shown him the positive pregnancy test, and one of an ever-expanding, never finished lists of reason you wanted to have kids with him. 

You sighed as you felt her flip over in your stomach. She was constantly in motion, something that brought you peace because it told you she was healthy, but as much comfort as it brought you, it brought you more discomfort at the very feeling. You shifted on the couch as you turned to the next entry.

Dear Winter, I hope you like your name I hope you let me take a shot with you on your twenty-first But shit, you gotta ask your mom first

I really hope you let me take a shot with you on your birthday. I’m asking because I was at a restaurant early today and saw the dad order two shots of tequila at a five star restaurant for him and his daughter, who had to be about twenty-one when her birthday dessert came out. She thought it was hilarious and you could tell she she did the shot with him that she loved her dad a ton. So naturally I thought of doing it with you. I know you’re definitely not going to think I’m cool by then, and you could be living in Canada instead where the drinking age is lower, but either way, I hope you don’t mind taking a shot with your old man. 

But, even if you don’t think I’m cool, even if we have to do the shot together over Facetime, even if Facetime doesn’t exist and you have to text me to ask me what it means when you read this, I hope we do one together. I promise, your old man could drink once, Win!

So, go ask your mom and I’ll break out the good tequila for you! :)

Love, Dad

You would definitely have to approve of the aforementioned tequila shot now that he’d been planning it for almost twenty-five years based on when this was written and when Winter would be twenty-one base on her estimated birthday. You laughed lightly and shook your head. Colton was already winning parenting debates with you and he didn’t even know it. Actually, maybe he did. It would be Colton to have planned this all out just so. You smiled as you flipped to the next entry. 

Dear Winter, I'm looking for your mom I gotta find a girl that doesn't mind that I'm inside my head a lot Winter, it won't be too long First, I just gotta find your mom

This whole writing to you as I’ve looked for your mom is how this whole notebook started. 

And Winter, boy do I have some good news about your existence for you. 

That girl I mentioned a while back? I asked her to marry me today. And somehow, she said yes. 

I found her, Win. I found your mom. She’s the most incredible person I’ve ever met in my entire like, that is, until I meet you. And, Winnie, she’s so excited to meet you too someday. 

Here’s hoping she likes your name :) 

Love, Dad

Your eyes were filled with tears again and you were so caught up in the moment, you missed the sound of Colton fusing with the lock on the front door as he entered the house.

“Baby? Why are you crying? Is everything okay? Is Little P okay? How was the appointment?”

Colton’s questions were flying out of his mouth almost faster than you could understand. You heard his gym bag hit the floor and his feet hit heavy on the hardwood as he rushed over to you. Colton rounded the back of the couch and stopped when he saw what was in your hands. You closed the notebook gently in your hands, careful with the soft leather binding, before pulling the elastic over to keep it closed. You turned your head toward your husband. He was white as a sheet, nervousness coating his features. His baby blue eyes were jumping between your puffy eyes, your stomach, and the notebook in your hands impossibly fast. He swallowed hard, waiting for you to say something because his mind was running too fast toward the brick wall of having to ask you what you thought about what was in your hands to actually speak. 

“Colt,” you breathed out softly before placing a hand on your stomach again, “Little P is a girl.” 

“A girl? Really? I’m going to be a girl dad? Really?” 

Colton’s voice cracked with each word and tears began to spill over almost instantly as he sank onto the couch beside you. Hesitantly, as if he didn’t know if he was still allowed to, he reached a hand out toward your stomach. You grabbed his large hand with both of yours and placed it on your swollen belly. 

“Do you want to tell her what her name is?” you asked him softly. 

His eyes snapped up to meet yours. He took his bottom lip between his teeth and looked at with cautious, hesitant joy. 

“You like it?” Colton asked you, his voice barely above a whisper. 

“I love her name, Colton, and since you came up with it, I think she should hear her for the first time from her incredible dad who already loves her more than she can possibly understand.” 

You reached a hand out to cup Colton’s face as you spoke. He leaned softly into your hand, his free hand cupping over yours, completely dwarfing it. He smiled at you softly before he placed a gentle kiss onto your palm, a silent way of telling you he loved you. His fingers wrapped around your hand, pulling it down to your belly along with his as his eyes shifted to it. 

“Hey, Winter, it’s me, your dad.”

[got-svt]

the road not taken

summary: you live in la, he lives in seoul. you don’t think it’s ever going to work out, but he believes otherwise. especially when every year on the holidays, both of you rediscover that your hearts are still in chicago. aka the conversations that had you rethinking your relationship.   pairing: johnny suh x reader genre: angst, friends with benefits (but only on the holidays lmao — implied sex, so no actual smut), some fluff at the end kinda word count: 2637

part of my tales from the lakes series inspired by taylor swift’s ‘tis the damn season

___

Truth be told, despite the fact that you were neighbors and your parents were quite close with his, you didn’t know much about Johnny in the years you spent growing up in the suburbs of Chicago. Sure, you caught glimpses of him from your bedroom practicing whatever song or dance routine he felt like he needed to improve on. More often than not, you’d find yourself laughing as he accidentally bumped into a shelf or slip and fall over on the floor. And he would be lying if he said he hadn’t taken a peek out his window to watch you running lines, a script in you hand as you paced around the room, a smile creeping on his face as he watches you shake your head every time you forget a line. In a way, you both formed some sort of a relationship as you silently cheered the other on in whatever endeavor you put your minds to.

He wanted you to succeed just as much as you wanted him to succeed. 

But when he moved to Korea to pursue a career as an idol, and you to LA for acting, there were little to no opportunities to actually begin a proper conversation. 

It wasn’t until in December of 2017, when both of your parents decided to have a joint Christmas dinner in celebration of both their children coming home for the holidays for the first time in years. They thought it was time for you two to meet, having settled in your respective career paths. Maybe they also wanted to see how the two of you would get along, but they would never admit it even if you ask. 

“I don’t think we’ve ever formally met.” He told you once he entered your parents’ house and offering a hand for you to shake, “I’m Johnny.”

“Yn.” You replied, taking his hand in yours, “And, trust me, I know exactly who you are.”

He raised an eyebrow at your statement as he let go of your hand, you shivered at the immediate loss of contact, your hand immediately growing colder at the absence of his. 

“NCT?” You asked tentatively, testing the waters of what could possibly be an exciting new friendship.  

“Ah yeah,” he sheepishly smiled, reaching a hand to scratch the back of his neck, “I guess there’s no use in pretending I don’t know who you are either.”

It was now your turn to raise an eyebrow at him, crossing your arms in front of your chest, “Hmmm?”

“I’ve seen pretty much every show you’ve ever been on.” Johnny clarified, but his tone suggested a bit of embarrassment on his part, “The other members don’t believe me when I tell them I practically grew up next to you.”

“I guess I could say the same.” You replied with a shrug, but you offered him a reassuring smile “Nobody really believes me when I tell them a Kpop star used to be my neighbor.” 

“Perhaps we need better friends then.” He joked, but your gaze was fixated on the way the curve of his lips moved with each word that left his mouth. Johnny had always been attractive, whether it be through your bedroom window or your computer screen. But now here he stood, in front of you, bare faced in black jeans and a gray sweatshirt and somehow he had never looked more alluring. 

Johnny noticed you watching him, but he never called you out on it. Maybe because he was too busy thinking about how soft your hand was when he shook it, imagining how it must feel running over his skin. Or how your hair seemed fall perfectly, framing your face in a way that was enticing him for reasons he couldn’t exactly figure out. 

“Care for a drink?” You asked, breaking the brief period of tense silence that had fallen between the two of you, leading him to the makeshift bar your parents had near the kitchen. 

He smirked, placing his hands inside the pockets of his jeans, “I thought you’d never ask.”

And maybe it was because of both of your parents deciding to turn in early and the three bottles of wine that was shared between the two of you that had you pinned against the wall of your childhood bedroom, quietly giggling into his lips as he went in for another kiss. He drunkenly mumbled words that you couldn’t quite understand, but he was telling you to keep quiet. You knew you should have stopped him the second planted his lips onto yours, and he knew he should’ve pulled away when you started taking off his shirt. Maybe then you wouldn’t have woken uncomfortably cuddled up on your twin-sized bed and sneaking him out of the house before your parents could wake up. 

But both of you enjoyed the way your bodies seemed to be made just for the other too much to stop, and thus, a tradition of sorts was formed. 

2018. 

One particular night the following year had you driving around the city, Johnny had one hand on the steering wheel while the other held yours, his thumb rubbing comforting circles on the back of your hand. But it did everything but comfort you or himself. Since the previous year, you and Johnny grew much closer than either have you had anticipated. You thought it would all end after that first night or maybe when you flew back to LA, and him back to Seoul. But it had been seemingly impossible to move away from whatever relationship that began to form, as both of you sacrificed nights of well warranted sleep to call or text the other, soon enough both of you were in too deep to easily get out. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” You asked, taking note of how the streetlights perfectly illuminated his face. He had been unusually quiet and you were growing tired of the Christmas songs that had been blasting on every radio station for the past few hours. 

“It’s nothing.” He sighed as he turned to an unfamiliar street, you knew better than to believe that it was truly nothing. But you also knew him well enough to not to push it. 

“Where are we going then?”

Johnny replied with a shrug, continuing down the foreign path, he knew neither of you had been to this particular part of town but at that point he’d do anything to even remotely extend the time you spent together. 

“And if we get lost?” You asked, your voice almost challenging him to turn back, but he didn’t give in. 

“Then we get lost.” He replied without missing a single beat, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards to form a smile, “You know, the road not taken tend to be the most exciting.”

“Oh wow,” You let out a laugh, and Johnny feels his heart skip the slightest of beats, “and where did that immensely profound quote come from?”

“My brilliant mind.” He grinned, briefly turning to face you. 

Johnny wished he had a camera to capture the absolute spectacle that was you. How you stared out the window, at the unfamiliar road, eyes alive with a certain curiosity. Your finger drawing little stars on the car window, pouting when it doesn’t quite look the way you wanted it to. It was at that moment he knew, you were all he wanted. 

“What are we?” He asked, causing you to jump a little in your seat, Johnny had never brought up the nature of your relationship before. 

“Friends?” You said, at an attempt to offer him an answer, but even you sounded unsure at your response which made Johnny grow hopeful. 

“Yn, friends don’t kiss.” Johnny responded, grateful that he had to keep his eyes on the road. He didn’t need you seeing right through his pretend confidence, “They sure as hell don’t sleep together”

“Sure, they do.” You joked in an attempt to lighten the mood, maybe even change the topic to something—anything— else, “I do it all the time.”

“Well, acting is different.” He let out a scoff, annoyed at the thought of you not taking the conversation seriously,  “You know what I meant.”

“I like where we are now. It’s easy.” You explained, wanting to make him understand where you were coming from, “Relationships are messy, given the industries we are in. There’s no pressure with this. With you and me.”

“But what if I wanted something more—”

“It’s never going to work.” You cut him off before he could even make his case, before he could ask you to be his. 

“Now, why do you say that?” There was a slight tremble in his voice, and you had never heard him sound so nervous, scared even. The feeling of guilt slowly crept up your system, but you shook it away before it even had the chance to fully settle in. 

“Time, distance, to begin with. Not to mention both of our very busy careers.” 

“Then I guess this is good enough for me.”

For now, he added in his head, determined to make you see otherwise. 

You smiled at him, glad to have the conversation over with and thinking that this would be the last time you’ll ever speak about it. 

2019.

Johnny wanted to prove you wrong, show you that both of you could in fact make it work. You just needed to try. Which came with more calls and texts than normal as you got to know each other more than you already did, flowers sent to you on your birthday, several little gifts every now and then, and even slowly introducing you to the other members of NCT. His efforts did not go unnoticed, but it definitely left you more confused. 

When both of you went home for the holidays that particular year, you knew something had changed. Johnny was more reserved than usual, and you would usually have to be the one to initiate sleeping together. 

“Don’t you ever get tired of doing this?” He asked, turning to face you, as you lied side-by-side on his childhood bed. 

“Doing what?” You asked, feigning confusion, preparing yourself for the inevitable conversation you had been dreading for the past few months.

“Don’t pretend like you don’t know what I’m talking about.” His voice was calm, but it chilled you to the core. 

“What do you want me to say, Johnny?” You snapped, the tone in your voice letting him know how exasperated you were as you shut your eyes, “That I like you? That I want to be with you?”

“Don’t you?”

You let out a sigh, still keeping your eyes shut. You didn’t want to look at him, he’d know if you were lying. You didn’t know if you had it in you to lie. Instead, you focused on the sound of his breathing, steady and almost reassuring. You imagined the rise and fall of his bare chest, covered by the thick white blanket. 

Johnny knew to drop the subject when you didn’t even make an attempt to answer his question, he probably didn’t want to know the answer anyways. But Johnny knew he loved you, and part of him knew you loved him back. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t have let this little charade go on for as long as it did. You just needed time. And he was more than willing to give it to you. 

“A year.”

Your eyes opened at his words, your head turned to face him,  “What?”

“I’m giving you a year.”

You didn’t have to ask again. You knew exactly what he meant, what he wanted. He wanted an answer. 

“Is this an ultimatum?”

He takes your hands in his, “It’s me letting you know that I’m serious about wanting to be with you.”

“Johnny—”

He kisses the side of your head before you could even finish your sentence, an action so tender that it caused you to forget every single coherent thought of protest. 

“Hey, you don’t have to answer me now. Just think about it. Please?”

“I will.” 

And with those two words, you stood and gathered your clothes off the floor and put them back on. He gave you a small nod as you turned to leave his room, going back into the freezing cold and leaving the warmest bed you had ever known. 

2020.

Neither of you could come home to Chicago that year. 

And so you both had to settle for a reunion through a screen. You wished that circumstances were different, but at the same time you were grateful that you didn’t have to give him an answer in person. Mainly because you didn’t have one. 

When his face appeared on your computer screen, you couldn’t help the ache that crept up in your chest at the sight of him. 

“Hey, yn.” He greeted with a smile.

You missed him.

After the exchange of pleasantries and a bit of small talk on both ends, Johnny wasted no time in getting to the purpose of your call, “I believe you owe me something.” 

“Johnny—“

“Before you say anything, I want you to know that for me, it’s always been you. After all this time, even with all the distance between us.”

Johnny moved his face closer to the camera, as if that would somehow help his point come across more genuinely. You had to stop your hand from reaching out to try and wipe the single tear that fell on his cheek.

“This is the last time I’m going to ask.” He said, trying to keep his voice from faltering too much, “After this, I won’t try to push it anymore. But I want you to tell me the truth. Don’t you wish—“

“It’s not going to work.”

“We haven’t even tried, Yn.” It almost sounded like he was pleading, begging you to give him and the two of you a chance. He wasn’t there with you in person, but he didn’t have to be for you to feel the sincerity in his words.

“I’m scared.” You whispered, finally choosing to truly let him in for the very first time since you met, “What if it doesn’t work out? I want you in my life. I don’t want to lose you.”

“You’re not going to.”

Johnny said it with such conviction, such confidence, that you felt like you had no choice but to believe him. Your eyes studied his face, looking for any sign of wariness or doubt. Only to find none. You could only find hopefulness, and maybe even love. With one final review of his features, you had made your decision. 

“Okay.”

“Okay, what?” He asked, just to make sure, but he made no attempt in holding back the grin that slowly spread across his face. The sight of which made your heart flutter. 

“We’ll try. I want to be with you.”

You let out a breath that you didn’t you had been holding as the final word left your lips. It felt like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders, the floodgates in your eyes releasing the tears it had been holding onto for months now. Nervousness still coursed through your veins, but it was mixed with a different kind of emotion: excitement. 

“You’re smiling, but you’re also crying. I’m not sure if I should be concerned.” Johnny joked, the crinkles in eyes becoming much more apparent as he stared at your face through the screen. 

“I’m still scared,” You confessed, “but I’m excited.”

Johnny couldn’t help but chuckle at your confession, waiting for you to wipe your tears away before he continued speaking, 

“Well, Yn, didn’t I tell you the road not taken would be the most exciting? Trust me, it’s looking really good now.”

[missdawnandherdusk]

I Will Rise

Hufflepuff!Reader X Draco

You can take everything I have

You can break everything I am

Like I'm made of glass

Like I'm made of paper

Go on and try to tear me down

I will be rising from the ground

Chapter 1     Chapter 2    

Chapter 3    Chapter 4

Chapter 5     Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Summary: With the next winter holiday things get to their lowest point. But rock bottom is always the place to start building up. 

A/N: So this was supposed to be super angsty with no end in sight but ya know, I changed my mind. This is angsty don’t get me wrong, but this is also where choices are made and people are changed for the better or worse. Sidenote: I just ended a four year relationship yesterday and ya know. I’m great. Anyway. Love yall!! Let me know that you think as always!!

Draco and I stood at the Manor gates. Dark clouds rolled in, suffocating us. They threatened with snow, ice, and fury.

“It’s the Dark Magic,” Draco noted, his voice seemingly indifferent, taking my hand.

I nodded, sighing. Something was to be said about missing sunny days and warmth. Even in the dead of winter, this chill sat differently on our shoulders. Winter promised spring... this artic promised nothing but death.

Inside and unpacked, Draco and I shared a bit of tea in front of a warm fire. He was reading The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe aloud, and despite my adoration of the book, I couldn’t seem to lose myself in the words as I once had. Even with the silkiness of Draco’s voice. I now had a deeper understanding for Narnians before the events of the book. An endless winter with only a small gossamer of hope to cling too.

“Wrong will be right, when Aslan comes in sight,

At the sound of his roar, sorrows will be no more,

When he bares his teeth, winter meets its death,

And when he shakes his mane, we shall have spring again.”

The words mocked me. Draco seemed to pick up on my disinterest.

“Don’t tell me you don’t prefer the book any longer?” There was a soft teasing smile on his lips as he closed the book, setting it on his lap. It was the one I had given him almost a year ago.

“No, I do,” It was a sad sigh. “I just... do you think someone is out there for us? An Aslan to come and save us?” I hugged my knees.

“Well, you know as well as I do,” He took the same book and flipped further back before settling on a page that seemed to satisfy him.

"Dearest," said Aslan very gently, "you and your brother will never come back to Narnia."

"Oh, Aslan!!" said Edmund and Lucy both together in despairing voices.

"You are too old, children," said Aslan, "and you must begin to come close to your own world now."

"It isn't Narnia, you know," sobbed Lucy. "It's you. We shan't meet you there. And how can we live, never meeting you?"

"But you shall meet me, dear one," said Aslan. "Are — are you there too, Sir?" said Edmund.

"I am," said Aslan. "But there I have another name. You must learn to know me by that name. This was the very reason why you were brought to Narnia, that by knowing me here for a little, you may know me better there."

A smile brushed my lips as he closed the book again.

“But do you think that was meant for us?” I laid my head on his shoulder.

“I think that it was meant to give hope,” Draco decided after a quiet moment, “Aslan, by any other name, would still be something to believe in,”

“Unless that name happens to be Harry Potter,” I chuckled, drawing a laugh from Draco. “And have you been reading my Shakespeare?”

“Maybe a bit,” A smile toyed at his lips.

“Romeo and Juliet though?” I rolled my eyes. “I told you, it wasn’t a good story to read presently,”

“I think you also told me that it was worth keeping the books that didn’t have a happy ending,” Draco set the book on the coffee table and pulled me into his hold.

“Do you think we’ll have one?” I asked softly. “A happy ending?” His face was hard to read as his eyes fixed on the burning fire.

“How can we with what we’re going to do?” The words echoed in my thoughts as we both sobered.

The plea for him to not do what he was asked of came rushing to my lips, but I held them there. I wouldn’t tell him. I had decided on that long ago. This was the one choice that he needed to figure out how to make on his own. I was torn myself. I wanted to tell him to stop, to help him make this choice, but I couldn’t. I didn’t know how to. But I could stay beside him... I prayed that it would be enough for him.

Even with the holiday upon us, the air was void of excitement and magic. The Manor was decorated immaculately even still. Tears stung my eyes, when thinking that this was the first Christmas I ever had without my mother, without baking or cooking or the music or movies. There was nothing to do in the kitchen with the house elves working and practically shoving me out of the room. There was nothing to clean. Nothing to tidy or move... It felt unnatural. Draco pulled me into his arms, giving me the comfort that I craved so desperately.

“Your mother is arriving soon,” He murmured softly. “Are you going to be alright?”

“I think so... we’ve been civil through writing. How bad could this possibly be?” My words were cynical but hopeful still. “Besides... at least it won’t be just the four of us. By comparison my mother will be a delight,”

“Bellatrix has agreed to be civil, and Snape always comes for Christmas. Or has before the last couple years at least. He’s my godfather, you know. He and my father were close when they were young,” Draco’s voice was strained. “But I suppose they will all be needles in a haystack,”

“It was right to invite the rest of...” I trailed off. “They’re alone too,” 

“Always the Hufflepuff, are we?” He mused softly.

I hummed in acknowledgement. I was still wary about Bellatrix attending supper. Too many things had the chance of going poorly.

“You know we have to do this,” He read my thoughts.

“The perfect children. The perfect couple. The perfect soldiers.” I sighed. “What I wouldn’t give to go back to that night at the Ball. Or the month after...”

“It’s ironic,” Draco chuckled darkly. “That we now know ignorance is bliss,” I nodded at the doorbell chimed throughout the house.

“Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,”

It was something quite different dining with just the Slytherins and dining with their parents as well. It wasn’t just I and Draco who were playing perfect children, but all of my friends, everyone I knew. All sapped of joy, of smiles, expression... under the scrutiny of their parents. Blaise, Vincent, Greg, Theo, and Pansy.

“How has schooling been?” My mother tried asking as the first course was served. 

“Well—”

“Ugh,” Bellatrix scoffed. “Who can learn anything with that daft old fool as headmaster?” 

“Bellatrix,” Narcissa warned gently.

“Yes, yes. Civil. As you wish,” She rolled her eyes and slouched, digging into what I assumed was quail.

Draco and I shared a look. Attempts for conversations halted after that.

Dinner passed and I barely tasted any of the surely rich foods that were placed before me. After the awkward affair, my mother asked to speak with me in private. Draco, Narcissa, and oddly enough, Snape eyed me warily.

“Of course,” I gave Draco one last look. He looked as if he were ready to pick me up and make a run for it, but he refrained.

I led her to the small rose garden that Draco had once led me to. It seemed sacrilegious to tread upon this secret haven, but it was a place that gave me comfort. Though it was covered in snow and the trees and bushes were bare, I still remembered the summer warmth the garden offered.

“You have surrounded yourself with quite a group people my dear,” Her voice strained out the words. “And that dress is lovely,”

“A gift from Narcissa,” A tight smile touched my lips. 

“So, you’ve replaced me then?”

I turned, frowning at my mother.

“You really think that?” I was baffled.

“Well look at you! New dress, new shoes, new friends! You’re living and dining with a bunch of Death Eaters for Merlin’s sake!”

“Yes, because I had so much of a choice to abandon the people I love and come home and live with my mother who lied to me for fifteen years and manipulated me!” I watched as my sharp words silenced her.

“You could have come home any time,” It was a quiet notion.

“No, I couldn’t have,” I wrapped my arms around myself and took a deep breath. “I’m going inside,”

“Please, dear. It is Christmas,”

“Yes,” I turned to face her. “And I’d rather be inside with Draco, if you can understand that.” 

“Draco,” It was nearly a sneer. “I have heard... rumors about him.”

“I really don’t think you have any right to say a word,” I said, my tone as ice.

“You’re blind. Your own love blinds you to who he really is. You’re going to get hurt,” There was an air of concern in her voice.

“No! I’ve spent years of my life terrified of letting people in because you’ve got it so deeply ingrained in me that I might get hurt! Well you were wrong about the world! And you were wrong about me!” I stalked up to her. “I have done things that you will never know! That you will never understand! I’m living through a war for god’s sake mom! And you’re here yelling at me about who I’m dating!?” I took a small step back, shaking my head. “This was a mistake...”

“Y/n, wait, please, you have to understand—”

“No mom! You... you don’t get to just waltz in here and ask me to understand! I don’t have to understand, and you really don’t get to give a damn after all you put me through! Don’t you think I want to have my mother here for me!? That it doesn’t kill me inside because I’ve never felt so alone in my life!? That everything I’ve known has been pulled from under me and while I’m trying to set myself somewhere new you just criticize me!? No! You just...”

“And what would your father say?”

I gaped at her, enraged.

“How dare you!?” I annunciated each word. “Dad would be damn proud of me! And he never would have let you do what you did to me! I am supposed to be your daughter! But I’m done.”

Without another word I stalked up to the house and inside, fuming. Draco caught me at the door, but I shrugged him off.

“Love,”

“No,” I snapped. “I need to cool down, just...” Wordlessly I headed upstairs before collapsing behind a random locked door, sobbing.

After a while, when my tears had subsided and my frame only shook minimally, I pulled myself up off the ground and stumbled over to a vanity. It must have been a guest room that I found myself in.

The girl looking back was a mess. Tear tracks stained with mascara ran down her cheeks and red lipstick was smudged out of place. Her hair was hanging haphazardly and out of order. Her eyes were red and puffy, and her lips etched into a permanent grimace.

There was a knock at the door. 

“Go away, Draco,” I sniveled.

“Do I look like that blond-haired prat to you?” The door clicked closed softly as I saw Pansy’s reflection in the mirror.

“Pansy, please... I—”

“You don’t have to tell me anything. I’m not here to console you, not particularly,” She came up beside me and leaned against the vanity. “Everything’s really fucked up, huh?” Her voice was depressed as she looked down.

“That doesn’t even begin to describe it,” I muttered.

“You know, I can’t tell my parents about Abby at all,” Her confession was small and weak. “She’s not a pureblood, and well, they’re not as accepting as her parents are about our relationship...”

I looked up at her, my eyebrows furrowed, trying to figure out why she was telling me this now.

“We haven’t spoken all holiday,” This wasn’t the strong confident Pansy I was used to seeing, but rather a broken scared teenager. “She’s mad at me because I won’t tell my parents about her, and I... I can’t do it. I’m a coward,”

I let out a hopeless laugh and smiled at her.

“I just told my mother off and now I really think I’ve been disowned,” A dry humor coated my voice. “And I’m in love with the son of the man who killed my father,”

“Well shit girl,” Pansy laughed. “You make my problems seem so trivial,”

“Not my intention,” A smile met my lips. “And I’m really sorry about you and Abby... not saying that it’s anywhere near the same... but I’m aware of what it’s like to be scrutinized for my choice in partner.”

Pansy nodded and a silence fell between us.

“You’re going to run yourself thin, Y/n. Trying to be everything for everyone.” Her voice returned to its somber mood.

“I think I’ve past that point,” I muttered darkly.

“Then tell me, little Hufflepuff, who are you going to be?” There was a slight challenge in her eyes. “You don’t have parents watching over your every move, you don’t have the constant expectations.”

“I can’t just—”

“And why not?” She shot back.

“Because I have to protect Draco,” I breathed out. “Play the part and get through this,” 

She eyed me; eyebrow raised but said nothing. “If that’s what you think,” She mused. 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I shot back.

“Well, the girl I met a couple years ago would stop at nothing to be herself even if it meant being teased and bullied by a couple Slytherins. The same girl who cut off all her hair and started to fight back. I just wondered what changed.”

I opened my mouth to refute her point but refrained. A lot had changed. Draco was a Death Eater now. We had a trial to get through alive or we would both die. I had to somehow manage not to get killed by his aunt preferably. I still had to pass my bloody N.E.W.T.s as if the rest wasn’t enough.

“Tell me, or don’t. But I care about Abby and Draco a lot. And now I’ve got this kid sister under my wing and I don’t want to see her drive herself into the ground like I have. This war is shit, but you... Y/n, you’re someone to believe in.”

I tutted out a laugh. “I’m a mess. Please don’t believe in me,”

“But that’s what makes you so valuable to all of us. Blaise, Theo, Vin, and Greg too. You gave us all a second chance. It doesn’t take much to lay down your life for a good man, but to forgive a bunch of villains?”

“You’re not villains,” I refuted.

“See, that there. That’s why we believe in you.” Pansy smiled. “Even through it all, you still are kind and believe in us,” She tucked my hair behind my ear. “Now let’s get you cleaned up, because I’m sure Draco is on the verge of breaking in here himself,”

I laughed and pulled her into a hug.

“Thanks Pans,”

 _____________________________________

Draco paced outside the door as he heard your ragged sobs coming from within wishing nothing more than to go in there and hold you. But you had asked for space, so he tried to honor that. Draco jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Pansy?” he asked, relaxing a bit. “What—”

“I’ve got this lover boy,” She smiled and patted his shoulder.

“She doesn’t want to be bothered,” Draco defended, glowering.

“Maybe not by you, but I think she needs a sister about now, what do you think?” Pansy raised an eyebrow at him, and it reminded him of all the times that Pansy had been there to be a sister to him and he nodded, knowing that it might help you more that he could.

Draco leaned against the wall, next to the bedroom door, his eyes closed.

“Draco?”

He peaked an eye open to find his mother on the landing with him.

“Is she alright?” Soft concern colored his mother’s voice.

“I have no idea,” It was a ragged whisper. “I knew we shouldn’t’ have invited her mother. I knew it was a bad idea,”

Narcissa laid a hand on his shoulder and tilted his chin up so that his eyes reached hers.

“It was going to happen eventually, but maybe now she can get some closure from it,” His mother sighed. “I remember the night that Andy walked out... it was weeks before that last fight and I could see how much it drained her. And you know it’s been hurting her too,”

“Andy?”

“Your aunt, Andromeda.” Narcissa smiled sadly. “Married a muggle and was disowned... she was barely older than you,”

“Talking about our dear sister again?” Another voice snarked from behind them.

They both turned to see Bellatrix leaning against the stair banister.

“She was a traitor, Cissy,” The witch sneered. “Walked away from this family. Married a muggle,”

“I know,” Narcissa’s voice was strained. “But I thought perhaps it would give some insight to what Y/n is going through,”

“Are you sympathizing with our dear sister then? Are you a traitor sister mine?” Bellatrix raised an eyebrow.

“Of course not,” His mother snapped. “If anything, Y/n has just affirmed her loyalty by turning her back on her muggle loving family,”

Draco knew the words were said to appease Bellatrix, but still he flinched at the reality of them and what it looked like on the outside. He knew that was far from the truth. He knew that you had walked out on your mother because she had a problem with you being with him. It had nothing to do with blood status. But perhaps the wicked narrative would keep you safe.

Three pairs of eyes snapped up as the door opened. Pansy emerged first, a smile on her face and you followed behind. You were smiling and held your head high. You were also barefoot, your stilettos in hand. Draco smiled at the sight.

His aunt on the other hand.

“Improper if you ask me,” She muttered.

“I don’t think anyone did,” The smile on your face was tight and he had to refrain from laughing at the look of shock on Bellatrix’s face. “My apologies Narcissa, I do believe that I may have ruined your dinner party,”

“Think nothing of it my dear,” His mother smiled. “I’m just glad to see that you’re alright.”

Tucked by his side, Draco tried to read your facial expressions, but even he couldn’t pick anything up. What you showed him seemed real. A real smile and real confidence, but he doubted that it was really the case given the present circumstances. But perhaps it wasn’t far fetched after all.

Bellatrix glared at you, but you held no air of worry or fear. Instead it was almost as if you were challenging her. Which left him wondering what in Merlin’s name had Pansy talked to you about.

Draco kept a close eye on you all night, but you really did seem alright. Curled up under his arm on the sofa in the company of just your friends, you were almost at ease. He itched to know what had happened between you and Pansy, but there was never a moment alone with just the two of you.

The night wound down, and soon it was only you, him, and his mother left in the large house. The both of you had drifted to the sitting room that held the grand piano. Draco’s fingers danced along the ivory keys, remembering how last Christmas he had composed for the first time. Your song was still remembered under his fingertips as it became a part of mini concert.

Christmas morning came and there were few presents under the tree, most of them trivial. Christmas seemed trivial. He had gotten a pack of permanent markers from Abby with a note saying that you would know what to do with them. You had gotten a pair of diamond earrings from him—and his mother. You both agreed, however, not to get each other anything. It was a depressing notion, but there was simply nothing to say about the occasion.

That evening, you donned your cloak and smiled at him softly.

“I’m gonna go visit Papa,” Your voice was soft and subtle. “Would you like to join me?”

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. He never expected for you to invite him to something like this. After the events of yesterday he didn’t feel worthy to go with you, let alone meet your father.

“It’s okay Draco, I can go alone,”

“No,” It was immediate. “You’re not going alone,”

Draco never thought that your father would be buried here. At Godric’s Hollow. He supposed it was a common place for wizards to be buried, but... he didn’t make the connection. There were others here as well and he could hear the faint hymns being sung at the church down the road. You and he were just cloaks in the crowd, two hoods visiting a loved one. You paused at a gravestone.

Walter Y/l/n

1956 — 1983

A Father and Husband

~Have Courage and Be Kind~

“Happy Christmas Papa,” You whispered softly, waving your wand, riding the gravestone of snow and frost. You sank to your knees, tears in your eyes and a smile on your lips. “I brought someone here to meet you,” Your fingertips brushed the stone. “This is Draco, Draco Malfoy. I know you probably don’t like the last name Papa, but... he is good,”

Tears welled in Draco’s eyes at the interaction. He stooped beside you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

“Hello,” His voice was tight. “You have a wonderful daughter,” A pause. “And though I cannot atone for my father’s mistakes, I will try. And I will be someone worthy of her affection and love,”

You laid your head on his shoulder, not saying anything, but rather enjoying the quiet night, the soft snow starting to fall. Drawing his wand, Draco conjured a small wreath of holly at the bed of the grave.

“He would be so proud of you,” Draco murmured. “As I am.”

“He would be proud of you too,” You looked up at him, snowflakes on your eyelashes. “We should go before the snow gets worse. I can feel it growing dangerous,”

Draco’s eyes darted around to the other mourners in dark colors that made only your silver cloak stand out when his eyes landed on a rather large focal statue. You followed his gaze and stood, standing.

“Do you think Harry has ever...?” The question was soft.

“I don’t think he knows it’s here,” Draco answer truthfully, his brows tugging together.

He led you down the rows of headstones until you were before Lily and James’ gave. It was sobering, seeing it like this. Draco knew the legends and stories, of course, but looking at the small bundle etched in the stone, cradled in Lily’s arms, it seemed almost too real. With your wand, you used the same spell and cleared the grave of frost and snow.

“As much of a prick that he is...” You trailed off. “I hope he’s having a good Christmas,” 

Draco hummed in acknowledgement.

___________________________________

Narcissa greeted us at the door to the Manor. A warning in her eyes. The warning, proven to be in vain because nothing could prepare us for what was awaiting inside. The treacherous smile of Bellatrix greeted us, as she was flanked by two others, in hoods and masks—deeming them unidentifiable. Even though I had seen her the night before, her civility seemed to have vanished.

“The young prince returns, dear sister,” Bellatrix cooed. “But he has not been such a good young prince now has he?” She twirled her wand in her hand as Draco took a step in front of me, his own wand out.

“Bellatrix,” A steady recognizable voice called.

My eyes snapped to the right where Snape stood. His nonchalant demeanor almost blending in with the gloom that hung in the air.

“You know his fate, Bellatrix,” Snape did not attempt to stop her, but something held in his words accomplished the feat.

“Yes,” Her head cocked to one side as she drawled out the word. “But he is not above the Dark Lord’s law. And that goes for his harlot.”

“You will not speak to her like that,” Draco spat, growling.

I placed a hand on his shoulder. I could handle some name calling. I was just desperately trying to figure out Bellatrix’s game and why she had come back and why the hell Snape was here too.

“You know, you might have gotten away with it, little tramp, had the Ministry and that blood traitor Weasley stepped in and torn through the enchantments,” The purr fell from her lips. “And Cissy you should really know better than to leave me alone anywhere,”

Bellatrix waved her wand and I felt unseen hands grab my arms and drag me forward, to the center of the foyer, and then they were gone, causing me to stumble onto my knees. I glowered up at the witch, picking myself up and drawing my wand.

“Bellatrix!” This time it was Narcissa.

“Worry not little sister,” The witch stalked up to me, her wand tracing along the scar that resided under my shirt: from her knife the last time we had met. “She is in no harm... The Dark Lord has plans for her after all... But I am afraid that her possessions...”

My eyes went wide. I shoved the idea that the Dark lord had plans for me and finally figured out her game. The reason she was here.

My room in the manor. Filled with my muggle books, and records, and photos... Everything I had left from the family and home I no longer had.

“Yes, little pet.” Bellatrix snapped. “But I wanted to take this as a learning opportunity. That the Dark Lord will expect nothing less than perfection—dedication.”

“Bellatrix, please—” I started, only for my voice to be taken by a flick of her wand. 

“You will be silent, little toad,” She snapped.

I turned, and saw Draco standing with his mother, pure fury written on his face as Narcissa held him back. As much as I yearned for his touch and comfort, I knew that this had to be played very carefully for us to survive. His eyes met mine.

“Come, come,” The deranged witched cooed almost happily.

Draco wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me along beside him. I looked up at him with frantic questions in my eyes, but he just shook his head. Though I couldn't hear the others behind us, I was sure they were there. Standing at the door of what was once my room, I saw the scattered books, torn pages, and absolute destruction that was in the room’s wake. Tears welled in my eyes at the sight. Draco’s and Narcissa’s arms around me were the only thing that held me back from running forward to save something—anything.

“Draco,” Bellatrix motioned him forward. Rigidly he let me go and took a step forward.

“The Dark Lord and every Death Eater believes that Purebloods are superior. That Muggles are filth and should not be considered human. And yet you allow such scum in your house. Muggle scum.” Bellatrix turned to Draco. “Destroy them. Prove your loyalty, little prince.”

Narcissa’s arms became a vice grip, holding me up instead of holding me back. I ducked into her shoulder, not being able to bring myself to watch what I knew had to be done.

“Confringo,”

Time passed. I wasn’t sure how much time. Maybe seconds... maybe an hour. Everything froze around me. My lung burned for oxygen. My eyes saw nothing. There was nothing left for me to see. Nothing but destruction in wake.

________________________________

“Draco give her mind time to protect itself,” Snape’s calm voice chided, watching the young boy pace outside the room you were in, nursed by Narcissa.

“No.” He snapped. “She—Fuck she’s going to hate me! Do you realize what I’ve just done!” He nearly screeched. “I’ve just destroyed everything—”

“And rightfully so!” Snape hissed. “Do you think the Dark Lord would be as forgiving as Bellatrix? If he came here and saw such things?” Snape’s eyes narrowed. “If it weren’t for the Dark Lord’s plans for her, she’d be under a gravestone by now.”

“Plans for her!?” Draco rushed his teacher, wand out. “No. He doesn’t touch her.” The threat was malicious and icy.

“It is out of your hands,” Snape merely brushed Draco’s wand away. “Has today not been enough for you to understand that there is no other choice for you here?”

Draco took a cool step back. “Crystal.”

The door opened and two pairs of eyes snapped and fell upon a weary Narcissa.

“She is awake,” Her voice wavered slightly. Narcissa walked forward and placed a hand on her son’s shoulder. “She’s asking for you,”

Ice ran through Draco’s veins as dread filled his chest. Maybe this was it. Maybe this was goodbye. Maybe this finally broke you. It’s what he dreaded the most, but knew it was coming.

You were sitting up, on the edge of the bed, your gaze cast to the floor. 

“Y/n, please, you have to—”

You held your hand up and shook your head.

“Books... can be bought again. So, can records...”

“But they—I...”

“Draco,” You called, squeezing your eyes shut. “I know.” Your voice was curt. “I know, but right now, if I dwell on that...”

He nodded and looked down.

“Can you ever forgive me?” Tears welled in his eyes as he sat beside. “Please forgive me,”

“You had no choice,” Your voice was small. “They’re just... things.” Your eyes still didn’t open. “They’re trying to break us. Break me. The Dark Lord has plans for me,” You almost scoffed. “Like I’m his pawn. Like I belong to him!” You stood pacing the room. “Well you know what? He can watch me bleed, he can watch me burn, but I will not give in!” Your voice was vehement. “I—won’t—break,”

Draco gaped at you, utterly shocked. This was... new. This was different. This was also the first time that he had ever seen you so adamantly speak against the Dark Lord with such fervor. A kind of courage that he wished he possessed. A determination that made him believe that maybe, if nothing else, you would get through this. It gave him hope that maybe he would too.

You sat beside him again and took a deep breath, running a hand through your hair. 

“How are you feeling?” You voice was gentle and soft.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” A small smile touched his lips.

A shrug fell from your shoulders and your hand ran up and along his left arm. The action alone eased the ache of the magic etched into his skin.

“I hate what I am,” He confessed through tears. “I hate what I’ve done and what I have to do. I... I don’t want to kill anyone. I don’t want to hurt anyone,” Sobs wracked his frame. “And I don’t know how you’re getting through this so well because I’m just breaking. I’m broken.”

Your arms wrapped around him, head resting on his shoulder.

“And that’s okay,” You pressed a kiss to his shoulder. “Go ahead and break. You’ve been strong too long, Draco.” Your hand ran through his hair.

He clung to you desperately, sobbing into your shoulder, hiding there. And he did break. He broke on you. He came apart at the seams in your hands and you held him together.

“I—I don’t w-want to kill him,” He sniveled. “W-why haven’t you tried to stop me?” He started to hiccup from the lack of oxygen.

You took his shoulders and looked him in the eye.

“Deep breath,” You instructed and took an exaggerated breath waiting for him to follow suit. It was shaky and ragged, but Draco managed a couple. “And because I wanted you to figure that out on your own. I wanted you to make that choice,” Your thumb brushed away his tears. “And I’m so proud of you for making it,”

He nodded and collapsed back into your arms a sense of relief flooding through him despite the threats that closed in from all sides.

__________________________________

“M-miss?”

It was early January when the house-elf came to me, clutching something in her hands tightly. Cassie, I thought was her name.

“Yes?” I knelt down, a soft demeanor to the action.

“I—I am—” She started to hyperventilate, tears in her wide eyes.

“It’s alright, sweetheart,” I soothed softly. “I won’t hurt you, nor tell you to hurt yourself. You’re safe in my presence,” I held my hands out, a slow action, showing the cowering house elf that they were empty and held no threat.

“I—I have been a b-bad house elf,” She cried. “I s-stole from M-miss,”

I frown furrowed my brows. I couldn’t think of anything that I owned that was worth stealing. A depressing thought tacked on that I didn’t own anything worthwhile even to me at the moment.

“It’s alright,” I smiled something sad.

The house elf held out what she was clinging too.

My photo album, the gift from Abby last Christmas. Tears sprung in my eyes as I hastily snatched the book from the house elf’s grasp.

“P-p-please do n-n-not be cross with C-C-Cassie,” The elf sobbed. “S-she likes l-l-looking at the p-p-pictures of h-h-happy mom-ments.”

“Oh, I’m not mad,” I quickly rushed out. “Not even in the slightest,” Tears streamed down my face. “You saved this,” I set the album down and drew the elf into a hug that she tried to scramble from but eventually relaxed, sobbing into my shoulder. “Thank you, thank you.” I cried.

“P-P-Please do not tell Master D-Draco,” She sniveled. “Y-Y-You have a-a-always been k-k- kind to us e-e-e-elves, p-p-please,”

“Y/n?” Draco’s voice was concerned. “Tell me what?” Cassie squawked and hid behind me, cowering. 

“M-m-m-master D-Draco,” The elf stammered apologies.

“What’s going on?” Draco was reserved, a mask of calm.

“Cassie, she saved my album.” I ran my fingers over the leather cover. “She took it from my room I guess... said she liked to look at the photos,”

Shock and relief flitted across Draco’s face in waves. He knelt down beside me and brought the book into his hands tears in his eyes.

“Thank you,” He spoke softly to the house elf. “Thank you for saving what I couldn’t,” 

“Draco,” I chided softly, reaching out for him. “It wasn’t your fault,”

“Regardless if it was or not,” He turned his attention back to the house elf. “You have my deepest gratitude,”

I flipped to a worn page by my own hand, to a day last year in the snow of four friends laughing and smiling. It wasn’t much, but I supposed it was something to believe in.

.

Chapter 9

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Masterlist

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[fictionadventurer]

Thoughts on Edwardian literature (as opposed to Victorian)?

To keep things as simple as possible, I’m defining Edwardian fiction as anything published between 1900 and 1914, no matter which country it was published in.

The Edwardian fiction I’ve read seems to be a lot lighter than the Victorian fiction. Maybe it’s easier for the lighter works to stick around since not as much time has passed? Or maybe it’s just that the age of pay-by-the-word epics had passed? (Is this the point where cheap paperbacks started to be a thing? That could account for the rise in short, fluffy literature, unless my just-making-this-up-off-the-top-of-my-head method of historical inquiry turns out to (somehow) be faulty).

First association with this era’s always Chesterton. My love of him is no secret, and a lot of my favorites of his works come from this pre-war era.

Graybeards at Play was his first published book of poetry--conveniently, for the purposes of this post, in 1900. According to Ward, even Chesterton hated it. (He always considered The White Knight his first published book). I don’t think it’s deserving of hatred. It’s like, four or five poems. They’re light and forgettable (I couldn’t have told you a thing about any of them an hour after I read them), but there’s nothing all that terrible about them.

I don’t talk enough about my love for The Napoleon of Notting Hill. It’s such a fun story, and a lot of the ideas of it form important parts of my mental landscape. I think of it every time I see a Renaissance Fair, and any time there’s a Cheat-the-Prophet style prediction about the future. So much of it is so very silly, but it’s built on such an interesting tension between people who care too much and people who don’t care enough. Adam Wayne and Auberon Quin are such good characters. The ending section always kind of creeps me out--of all things, it made me think of Elmo Saves Christmas, because both stories left me with an extremely unsettled feeling when the silly story turns into an unexpectedly dark alternate reality--but the ending reconciliation between Quin and Wayne is excellent.

Manalive is delight in novel form. It was the first book I ever read by Chesterton and it changed my life. At first, I was just blown away by the love of life shown in the pages, but I thought it a better essay than a story. Later rereads have made me appreciate the excellent character work and the turns of the plot.

The Ball and the Cross was an excellent book, but very weird. A lot of the issues are still relatable, but I don’t understand the weird mystical happenings of the later part of the book.

I think Chesterton’s essays are my favorites of the things he’s written. “On Running After One’s Hat” is a particular favorite. As is the one about drawing with chalk on brown paper.

Lepanto is one of my favorite poems of all time. Ballad of the White Horse gets a bit long and repetitive, but it’s a stirring epic.

I have an entire section of Father Brown reread posts that go into my love of the stories. Those rereads gave me a greater appreciation of the stories as stories, rather than Chesterton essays. I low-key regret that I was never able to finish my post for the last story in Innocence. The reread posts were a big undertaking, but I would have liked to have had posts for at least the first volume of stories. (But there was something about that last story that just halted all attempts to say anything about it.)

Oh, how can I forget about Orthodoxy? Absolute cornerstone of my mental landscape. But Chesterton has already taken up far too much space here.

I’ve also got two years’ worth of Psmith Pseptember posts talking about my love of Wodehouse’s work in this period. They may not be Wodehouse’s best work, but they might be my favorites. It kind of shocks me to remember that the Psmith author is the same guy who wrote the Jeeves and Wooster stories, because I’ve kind of split them up in my mind. So much similar between the series while feeling so different.

I always assumed The Phantom of the Opera was the quintessential Victorian Gothic novel, but I ran across a copy this week and was shocked to see that it was published in 1911. I like the book, especially the parts that didn’t make it into the musical. I love that the book casts Raoul as the hero of the piece and plays up the horror of the Phantom’s past, making him this exotic genius. (The scenes with the traps below the opera house? Shivers.)

I seem to have developed a deep fondness for A.A. Milne’s adult books. His sense of humor is so relatably daffy, and I can see why he hated only being known for the Pooh books. I have a copy of The Sunny Side that I read about half of, and I really need to go back and finish the rest of the stories sometime.

Peter Pan is...fine. I was glad I read it, but I can’t say it’s a favorite.

This period also gives us Anne of Green Gables and Anne of Avonlea. The first book deserves its status as a classic. It was one of the first books I ever bought for myself at full price (I had won a bookstore gift certificate). I hadn’t even heard of it before, but I loved it. Then I tried to read the second book and got so bored that I never finished it, and I never read the rest of the series until I was an adult. I’ll always hold a grudge toward that second book for depriving me of years of Anne enjoyment.

A Little Princess was one of the only books I got as a gift as a kid (my parents are not bookish). My aunt gave it to me, with an inscription saying it was one of her favorite books. I read it lots, still have that copy, and was glad to see that it held up when I reread it last year.

Daddy-Long-Legs was a book I discovered thanks to tumblr recommendations, and I loved it. Such an engaging voice! (Though the twist does make the MMC a bit skeevy). The musical is rather good, too.

The Rosary by Florence Louisa Barclay was an impulse pick when I was looking for free Kindle books. (It has nothing to do with religion--The Rosary is the title of a song the character sings). It was apparently the bestselling novel of 1910, and I can kind of see why. The characters and humor are surprisingly sharp, and the romance is sweet, even though it devolves into improbable tropes. I’ve only read it once, but I have intensely fond memories of it, and it always makes me wonder what other Edwardian gems have been lost to obscurity.

Kilmeny of the Orchard has some beautiful descriptions and cute characters, which makes it a crying shame that the entire plot hinges upon complete medical codswallop.

There are a lot of books that I think of as Edwardian that turn out to have been published during WWI or the ‘20s. But that’s probably a good thing because this post is already far too long.

[benjiwyatt]

do you have any ben/leslie headcanons! i love your posts abt them so much it's great to see someone get as emotional abt them as i am asjdkajhjd

i got this message and i was like "god, i dont really know if i have any headcanons" and then i opened my notes app and started typing and didn't stop for over an hour

i'm literally putting this under a break and organizing it into categories bc it's absurdly long

here it is

A COLLECTION OF BEN AND LESLIE HEADCANONS

PRE-RELATIONSHIP/S3

basically canon but leslie definitely had a crush on a young benji wyatt and followed the story religiously for the first couple months before she started college

ben is only slightly jealous leslie had ann go out with chris to try and get more money for the parks budget rather than leslie asking him out with the same goal. he knows it’s insane, unethical, and illogical but he’s still excited that he gets to spend the night with her on a date plus two other people even if it is to accuse her of bribery.

ann realizes early on that leslie was attracted to ben and teases her mercilessly about it. she thinks it’s absolutely hilarious that leslie wants to make out with "mean ben.” after april and andy’s wedding, she realizes it's more than just attraction and she lays off.

before ben can even think rationally about what he’s doing, he’s in line at bed, bath, and beyond with a crock pot in his arms, calling stephanie to ask her to send him their family’s chicken soup recipe

ann knew ben liked her from the beginning and was totally positive when she ran into him in the hospital asking for leslie’s room number while holding jj’s waffles and a tub of homemade soup.

ben realizes he’s falling in love with leslie when he is at city hall with her until 3am one night trying to budget for the amount of cotton candy machines she wants for the harvest festival. in his exhaustion, he naively believes her when she tells him she’ll go home in a bit so he leaves. he never gets a text from saying she made it home so he stops at jj’s the next morning and brings a takeout container of waffles and a coffee complete with an outlandish amount of whipped cream and sugar to the parks department. he finds her asleep in the conference room. he starts trying to convince sweetums to donate more cotton candy machines that afternoon.

chris had to have known ben liked leslie. he’s not an idiot. in the deleted scene from their wedding, they read out emails from their “tumultuous first week in pawnee” and chris writes to ben saying, “why are you so focused on leslie knope?” ben replies saying, “i’m not. whatever. shut up.” there’s no way chris is this oblivious. ben takes her out for a beer. ben pays out of pocket for a children’s performer to help her out. ben shows up on chris and ann’s date just because he thinks leslie might be there. chris can’t be this dumb. but when they take the city manager jobs in pawnee, he knows it can’t happen so he cuts ben off when he starts to ask about dating someone in city hall. he cracks down on the rule in front of leslie after the tom incident to hammer it in. he starts setting ben up on a bunch of dates to try and head it off. he sends them to indianapolis for the little league pitch because, realistically, he knows they’re the best bet for success but makes sure to interrupt their dinner and invites them to his apartment to continue to run interference the rest of the night. after their fights in 4.06-4.08, he hopes he won’t have to worry anymore. the next work day, they come into his office looking nervous and happy and he knows he’s about to lose the partner and best friend that’s been by his side for the past decade.

april and andy knew they were secretly dating. it went unspoken aside from a few implicit teasing remarks from april and a few suggestive attempted high fives from andy but leslie assured ben they wouldn’t tell anyone despite their ostensible behavior.

BREAK UP

ben had commissioned the li’l sebastian plush for leslie after he had died but the toy shop didn’t finish it until after they broke up. he felt bad not going to pick it up so he did despite not being able to give it to her. he kept it for all those months and sometimes thought about getting rid of it but could never bring himself to do it.

when leslie made personalized copies her books for her friends with individualized annotations and notes in the bylines, she had two copies for ben. there was one that she gave him during their breakup that was very simplified and watered down where the note basically just said “i’m really glad you decided to stay in pawnee.” then there was a second copy that she kept while they were split up that was totally covered in notes and random thoughts she couldn’t say during their time apart. she gives him that copy when they get back together and it may or may not be the best gift he’s ever received.

april was much less abrasive with them during the break up because she’s a sweetheart and wants her friends to be happy.

the first time leslie admitted she was in love with him was during a long night of drinking and crying at ann’s house

ben craved the taste of sugar during their breakup because he got used to tasting the sweetness when he kissed her

ben found himself unable to sleep at night without the sound of leslie talking in her sleep to comfort him

april texted leslie the night of the halloween party to let her know that ben and andy were at the hospital after a fight and everything was fine and she didn’t need to worry. leslie was mad at andy for a few days after and he couldn’t figure out why.

the only photo in ben’s bedroom was of himself, leslie, and li’l sebastian at the harvest festival. if he got caught staring at it and crying, he would just say he missed li’l sebastian so much.

april and andy started having star wars and star trek movie nights to try and cheer ben up

DOMESTIC

ben and leslie got in the habit of having weekly game nights with april and andy during the campaign since they were all basically living together. it became a tradition that kept going as often as they could make it happen, even after the kids were born. they try to have game night at least once a month. april pretends to hate it.

one of my absolute favorite ideas about them is that she sleeps much better when he’s around to keep her grounded. after they get together for good, she starts getting closer to 5 hours of sleep a night.

another favorite involving leslie’s sleeping: ben is typically accustomed to tuning out incoherent nonsense that she babbles in her sleep but she also has some of her best ideas when she’s not busy trying to focus on a million different things. when he hears her coming up with legitimately good ideas or making speeches or having solid debate arguments, he takes out the notebook he keeps in his nightstand to record her thoughts and quotes. he revisits and revises the notes to strengthen her statements and make them more professional and less rambling but makes sure to keep her distinct voice apparent in them.

ben prefers pancakes to waffles but he will go to the grave with that secret

this isn’t a headcanon because nbc posted it but one of ben’s holidays on leslie’s calendar is watch synchronization day which is the day they celebrate syncing their watches to, as leslie puts it, “always be in harmony, like our hearts” which is just one of the sweetest fucking things in the world

leslie makes ben read and watch all the harry potters because he didn’t get into them when he first tried. ben is much more of a success than ann. she buys him a ravenclaw scarf for christmas.

their first fight as a couple was a historical debate gone awry

since ben clearly has some affinity for custom stuffed animals, he has some made for the triplets.

they’re both dog people but they adopt a cat because sonia and stephen beg for one and it does fit their busy lifestyle much better. they love the cat. they get a dog when the kids are older and life is slightly less hectic.

they both love striped shirts and sweaters so much that they have to make a conscious effort to avoid wearing them on the same day and matching

leslie makes sweets and bakes desserts while ben typically handles cooking the actual meals

BASED ON EPISODES, QUOTES, AND THROWAWAY LINES

i always loved the ann/ben dynamic in bus tour because there’s been such an obvious shift in ann’s attitude towards him in this episode. maybe it’s because she and tom just broke up and she just turned chris down again and she’s frustrated with relationships but i think it’s her realizing ben isn’t going anywhere. since the campaign is winding down, she realizes that things aren’t gonna go back to the way they were because ben is now part of this and he’s clearly in it for the long haul. ann’s definitely jealous that ben is just as important to leslie as she is and she now knows she’s never gonna get that full attention back. ann sits ben down to have a real “don’t you dare hurt her” speech after this ep and before win, lose, or draw. this is when he tells ann he wants to marry her.

they discover they both adore the princess bride after ben says “as you wish” to her one night and after that it becomes their movie.

the wildflower mural becomes a thing between them when ben says he considered that to be their first date, prompting leslie to tell him what the mural means to her.

ben puts banjo boogie bonanza on one of the mix cds he gives leslie at the beginning of their relationship

harrison ford movie nights start after they both reveal they had a crush on him as a kid. ben was obsessed with han solo and leslie was into indiana jones’ whole history teacher vibe.

they basically hate each other’s taste in music and stop exchanging mix cds once that becomes apparent that they aren’t gonna find much common ground. they both love tom petty, al green, and etta james and music in that vein though.

ben makes leslie watch game of thrones just to try to explain why he’s called her khaleesi. she gets into it, not so much because of the show itself, but because of how passionate her boyfriend is about it.

they start learning basic french during the s4 campaign because they think it will be useful to have a basic multilingual vocabulary for their political careers and because leslie confesses she has always dreamed of seeing paris. they study spanish next.

ben makes leslie watch the star wars prequels just so he can complain to her during them. he doesn’t think she’s paying attention and then he reads about midichlorians in the paper.

ann is also in on ben’s plan to sneak vegetables into leslie’s waffles.

they will sometimes jokingly refer to themselves as the “dream team” or “dynamic duo” because, despite chris’s absurdity, it’s true

i’m open to literally any origin of this because no matter what it’s perfect but i like to think that “i love you and i like you” started at some point in season 4 when, at some point, leslie went “i like you” and ben replied “you like me?” “mhm” “hm just like me?” “yes i like you. i love you and i like you. both.” “mmm i love you and i like you too”

i barely even register some of these things as headcanons since they just live so solidly in my brain

this might be my favorite ask ever thank you for loving benslie enough to ask me this and be genuinely interested

if anyone read all of this, i love you

[fandom-sheep]

Eret 11 MAY 21

Cat and DSMP Part 1/1

Cat! Goose!

Goose my beloved.

Eret’s streaming very late for me again. So I’m not staying the whole time.

Hello Elaina. Enjoy Goose.

Fundy! Kinda...

Fundy hearing the donations. LOL.

Fundy enters a stream and it starts to scuffed. Scuffed just follows Fundy wherever he goes.

A wild my beloved on the cube.

The Drista stairs.

Wait what. Why is the tower gone?

I have missed some lore.

Ah... it’s part of the nightmare thing.

Eret offering Fundy housing like a good almost adoptive parent.

Sneeze? OH WOW SNEEZE.

Sounds like Fundy about lost a lung. Good gracious.

The bargaining between these two.

Cat, Handsome, said cube was massive

You know what that works.

It’s hard to keep the audio right for Eret’s stream for my headphones. It’s either too quiet or the loudest my headphones can go and my family can hear it.

On stream explosions. Noice.

Wow youtooz. Not super cool. Permission is usually a good thing.

Eret keeps on sizzling.

Getting dirt for scaffolding. Going old fashioned Minecraft for this.

“Why is the Cube kinda hot” cue Eret losing faith in her chats sanity.

Cube go poof.

Oh. Red stone. That’s dangerous.

I like this song. Oh klahoma. Gorgeous song.

Love joy is such a fun band. I want to make a plushy of the cat.

It’s kinda sad that Eret can’t see themselves the way chat and their little fandom sees them. Most all of us think they look fabulous.

Not Arson. Just bombing. A bit of anarchy by the king.

Demolition. Now there’s the word.

Controlled ish demolition.

Ah I’ve almost saved enough channel points for water. Nice. I’m not going to redeem it I’m just going to keep hoarding the points.

Flame Arrow. Nice.

Eret cleaning up the SMP eye sours.

Watch me attempt to sleep to Eret here in an hour or so, but keep getting distracted.

Explosion time.

Someone get ready to clip it.

Bye Bye Cube. Let’s go.

Gotta get a song that fits the vibe.

Hayloft. Time to go poof.

Turning up my brightness just to watch this explosion in the best way possible.

Still wearing the red dress I see.

I hope the music isn’t too loud to get this part muted.

Drum roll...

Drum roll continues...

Drum roll still going...

THERE GOES THE CUBE!

That was so smooth and good looking!

Overall a very good explosion.

Just a little bit of a hole in the other building.

Twitch Pr-

Poor being’s so confused with his hair. Someone help them.

Twitch bleep.

Everyone attempting to give hair styling advice. Everyone’s trying to help the being.

That bird is majestic. I remember seeing that tiktok.

Animals just decided Eret was the animal whisperer.

Yes! Disney Princess Eret fanart! Someone make it, I shall reblog all of it.

Likes to hug cute animals and cute animals like being hugged by her. Nice.

It’s alright. Names are difficult. I have to like put name tags on people to learn who they are. That or name tags on their space (like on campers bunks and door decs on dorms)

It does feel very February. But I’m very ready for summer because that means I get to do my favorite job.

Hooray. I hit 15k points.

Eret trying to prove to us a ponytail won’t work. Like we aren’t going to hype them up no matter what.

Gotta heart in the chat. All Eret’s chat does is hearts and encourage. It’s a lovely place.

Oh Eret forgot his cat ear sub goal. It’s alright I know I forgot.

Pride is next month. Nice.

Oh. We’re almost halfway already. Why does the world spin so quickly?

We forgot a dirt tower. Whoops.

I would wear Eret merch. I like it when people release merch around Christmas. Then I can ask for it as a gift.

Oh it wasn’t a dirt tower.

Just looking at Elaina’s stream in the stream selection screen it like very cozy.

All the way up the Drista stairs.

Look it’s the museum!

Eret’s got most of the builds around there. The museum. The fortress. Nice.

Some things are too historical to remove. Somethings are historical because they are being removed.

Oh no. L’sandburg.

It’s taking over the summer home.

Ah the lore is coming. It just seemed to be too early.

Hello unofficial ranboo Raiders.

Foolish making the awesome tall thingy!

Foolish’s builds are so neat. I want to watch Foolish’s streams more. Maybe just in the background but I start wanting to delayed liveblog and that requires attention.

Oh the giant portal turned out well. Sorry that was the lady’s foolish stream I watched.

Shulkers. The forbidden mob.

Eret with just a pit in the desert filled with llamas. Bones. And discus.

The mansion has been finished?

Alright is better than bad. It’s alright to be alright.

Lucky being not getting tired. I got the Johnson and Johnson vaccine and I was so so tired. I also had just no appetite.

Eret doing an smp tour. And looking at foolish’s builds.

Flickering the switch on the rainbow beacons.

Eret just knowing where everything is.

Kinoko is super pretty. Just for the aesthetic value of the kingdom I appreciate it.

Yeet. Just defenestrated himself out the window.

Oh? Spectator fly over the smp?

That would be really neat to like. Watch in VR. I think I’ve only used VR maybe twice.

Pretty Rainbow beacons.

The nurse who gave me my vaccine hid the needle from me because I mentioned to her that I was afraid of needles. It wasn’t a big deal at all.

30 minutes till I attempt sleep. Woo.

Goose my beloved. Someone make the gif because I’m not quite sure how to make it.

Oh yeah. Goose in Marvel. I hear MCU and think Minecraft cinematic universe. Not marvel.

Ghibli is so nice. It really romanticize small moments of life.

Yeah the characters are all really supportive in Ghibli movies.

Someone subbed for nine months “that’s enough to make a child” -Eret

That mansion is like a maze. I’m so lost already.

Everyone encouraging Eret and telling her she looks pretty. Good.

Eret needs all the hype and encouragement.

Antarctic empties flag. Yeah it does have a similar color pallet.

Michelle! Hello!

Fortress work. Nice.

Do it. I’ll listen the Eret play other games.

I don’t usually watch game play for non Minecraft games. But I’ll listen to it all.

Hbomb and Eret living in the same city feels like two worlds that shouldn’t meet. But it’s awesome that they have.

TOS means against twitches terms of service. Nice. Glad to finally have an explanation of what that means.

Look at our handsome and pretty streamer. All the hype.

I keep turning down the stream to hear the show my mama has on because I’m curious about what happens.

Yeah. Backseat gaming can be annoying. That’s part of why I share my thoughts here just in case I do start backseat gaming.

Almost to the sub goal. Hooray!

Ooo food.

No no. I see where they are coming from. Eret does give a bit of cat bus vibes. I can’t explain it but the vibes are there.

Creeper causing issues at the fortress.

Ed Sheepran my beloved.

I should draw more ferrets. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe I’ll draw us doing stuffs.

Actually I kinda want to make a little animatic of some heels walking across the screen followed by a hoard of ferrets. I think it’ll look cool. But I need the artistic ability and the ability to not scream making that.

Woop. Ad time. Off to the void of where ever the ads game me.

OH THE NEW VOID LOOKS COOL!

Bread. Flowers. Ted. Crown. And of course Eret.

We V O I D and get our streamer bits.

Hush the chat is V O I D and the occasional emoji or emote.

The void being centered looks good. Maybe that’s just the symmetry speaking but it’s good.

Oh. We hear the being. The being in void mode. And spooky mode.

Chat just starts yelling corpse.

Hydration. I try to stay hydrated. But I fail often if I’m not doing something active.

Tree!

Casually makes and snags tree.

Eret does read chat often. It’s strange. And it is weird how often it ends up being you.

You can tell I’m a tumblr peep. I may say stuff in chat but I’m fully not expecting or wanting to be noticed by the streamer.

Others hitting darkness o’clock and saying goodnight.

It’s sleep to the stream hours y’all. Whoop.

I need to visit the parks out west. I’ve only really seen the eastern US ones. But I have been to the Great Smokey Mountain park which is gorgeous.

Eret thinking of his friends triggers when naming his cat.

Eret’s builds are so casually pretty. Not like Foolish’s which are intricately pretty. Not like Phil’s or Sam’s which are complicated pretty. All pretty. Just different breeds of pretty.

Alrighty. It’s sleepy hours for me. As much as I love Eret I want to read some fanfiction and daydream a bit before I head to sleep.

Have a good rest everyone and may all your coming meals be delicious.

Wait no is it our turn with goose?

OUR TURN WITH GOOSE!

Eret honey that’s the ceiling.

Cat stream. Cat stream.

Sleepy kitty. A cat cam would be good.

Yeah. That happens with cats. Especially strays.

Goose captured the computer mouse.

Goose straight up chose Eret and Elaina.

Goose really just chose not to leave.

Oh my stream connection is acting sad. But I want Goose content.

I want to draw Goose now.

Maybe I’ll do water color for Goose. I know I tried to do that with Boots (Fundy’s cat)

Hopefully there will be some Goose face screenshots I can see. Maybe I can see him well in the Tiktok.

Artists just violently refusing payment. Sounds about right. The MCYT artists just kinda go “yeah give credit and we cool”

Cowboy cat. Nice.

I want to paint Goose in the cowboy hat.

Hype train! That we are zooming.

Bucket sponge?

WATER BUCKET FROM WET SPONGE! Tiktok people giving all the cool info.

Go Goose. Catch the computer mouse and the screen mouse.

Just sitting here at 11:30 at night getting screen shots of Goose for painting purposes.

Goose please. Look at the camera babe.

My phone is dying. And I can’t charge it and type.

Alright the camera is off the cat. The cat is also blocking the screen.

But no cat on camera means I’m getting some sleep. If I do any of the projects I’ve mentioned I’ll let y’all know.

Have a good rest everyone.

[silverarmedassassin]

Goodness & Light

Pairing: 40s!Bucky x Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1030

Summary: Bucky’s home. You’re married. And you have one hell of a Christmas present for him. 

A/N: Lol so this has been seven months in the making. And it’s still trash. But happy Christmas in July! I’m taking a page of Sebastian’s book and just celebrating Christmas early, I guess. Anyway, this is the last part of the little 40′s series thing I did back at Chrismtas time. You can read the first part here, or find all my Christmas stories here. You don’t have to read the other parts for this to make sense, but just know that they are all in the same universe! 

Thanks for reading! If you’re feeling generous, reblog and leave me a comment❤️

Masterlist

It’s Christmas morning. A thick blanket of shimmering snow is covering the quiet streets of Brooklyn. You’re up early. Earlier than normal - even earlier than your husband. But today was special and you needed to prepare.

Husband. You sigh as your mind drifts back to that thought, subconsciously playing with the two golden bands that had found a home on your left hand. Although it’s been six months, you still find yourself signing your old name on letters. A half dozen Christmas envelopes had been tossed because Mrs. Barnes still didn’t flow easily from your hand.

You’re silently finishing up stuffing a little package into Bucky’s Christmas stocking when you hear him get up and start his day. He’d be upset with you, of course, since you’d both agreed on no gifts this year, but this little offering was important and so worth his upset. Having spent a little more on your wedding than you should have didn’t leave you with much disposable income, even with Bucky’s military compensation. In some twisted way, you think, you’re lucky he was discharged after almost losing his left arm. Without the medical assistance he received from the government and the wages he earned back at the docks, you’re not sure you’d been able to make ends meet this far into the year.

But your wedding was worth it. Bucky was worth it. Four months after he returned state-side, cleared from medical with a relatively clean bill of health, you were married. It was a June wedding - all yellow flowers and sunshine - held at the church Bucky’s family had attended for years. Becca was your maid of honor. Bucky’s side remained empty, a sad reminder that one of the most important people in both your lives would be forever absent for whatever awaited you as a married couple. It was a happy day, though, one without war or death. It was just you and your James. Your Bucky. And it had been that way ever since.

Butterflies pick up low in your belly when you think of your little family and all the ways it has yet to grow and change.

Bucky finds you in the kitchen where you have attempted to busy yourself. An uniced gingerbread cake sat on the counter, patiently awaiting the icing you’ve just now started to mix.

“Mornin’,” he draws, voice thick with sleep, as he wraps his arms around your middle. A chaste kiss is planted to your cheek before he burrows his face into your neck. “Merry Christmas, baby.”

Baby. The word bounces around in your mind. Baby. A name that has been reserved for you and only you for seven long years now. A name that, up until recently, you hadn’t given much thought to. Bucky breaks your train of thought when he sneaks his finger into the icing bowl and scoops a large helping out just for him.

“James,” you chastise, only half angry as you swat him away. He only laughs, swings you around until you’re face-to-face. Any annoyance you may have had instantly dissolves when you’re met with piercing blue eyes and a goofy smile. “You’re such a menace,” you laugh as you reach up to kiss him.

“Why don’t you go busy yourself somewhere else,” you giggle as wipe away a small smug of leftover icing on Bucky’s lips. “We don’t have to be to your ma’s until noon. Go start a fire and we can listen to that Christmas special they’re having today.”

Another kiss and a pinch to your bum before you find yourself alone in the quiet kitchen again. Your hands shake a little now, knowing how close he is to finding his gift, knowing what you know.

“Baby, I thought we said no gifts,” you hear Bucky say from the front room. You peak around to find him standing in front of the mantel, holding the red and gold package you had expertly placed just so he would see it. You discard your apron, wiping your now frosting-covered fingers off on the thin cloth, before making your way to your husband.

“I know.” It’s your turn to snake your arms around his middle. You look up at him, take in the way his face is flickering and aglow thanks to the fire. The war may have aged him, but he was still as beautiful as ever. “But I saw this and I had to get it. I promise it didn’t cost me a thing.”

Bucky looks down at you with speculation written all over his face. “But I have nothin’ for you.”

You shrug and guide him back to the loveseat as best as you can. “You’re more than enough for me, always. Now, open it.”

As the two of you settle into the worn fabric of your tiny sofa, you feel your excitement growing. But there’s also a hint of fear threatening to wash over you, drown any feelings of happiness and replace them with that of disappear. What if this was exactly what Bucky didn’t want?

He fiddles around with the paper for a few moments before he picks carefully at the tape, mumbling something about not wasting such beautiful gift wrap. He’s slow to open the small box that rests inside the paper, and you think you might pull your hair out before he removes the lid.

But, when he finally opens it all the way and registers what’s inside the little box resting on his lap, it’s like time freezes. Nestled inside the sweet little package is the first pair of shoes Bucky’s mother ever bought him. There were countless times throughout your life that you were grateful for Winnifred’s sentimentality, and this moment will forever be your favorite.

“I-Is this…” Bucky looks from the shoes to your face, eyes shimmering with unshed tears that are threatening to spill over at any second. “Are you...pregnant?”

Your own tears glid down your cheeks as you nod. Not too far along, just past six weeks if your midwife was correct. With a sniffle and clear of your throat, you reach out for Bucky’s hand and place it on your still non-existent bump. “Merry Christmas, Bucky.”

[gnarf]

Gnarf’s 2020

and what a fucking year that was... Anyways, let’s talk about the good things, shall we?

I made it through 2020 alive and without going insane! Yay! So lets see what else I did. (This is a long post)

In the beginning of 2020 I said I won’t participate in many fests. Only three or something like that. Lets check how that went!

Fests Gnarf participated in: 9

@lockdownfest @lcdrarry @hd-wireless @hpfluff-fest @hd-hurtfest @hd-fan-fair @hd-erised @gameofdrarry in drarropoly @wireless-festive-minifest​

Haha yup, three. Sounds legit. I also wandered off to try if I can art! No worries, I gave that up :D Mad respect to all Artists, arting is exhausting and the progress is too slow for me.

If you really want to check out my attempts, here’s what made its way onto AO3:

Dont Blink! for LCDrarry, it includes the Angels from Doctor Who and was a pain in the arse.

If you knew... was made for H/D Wireless and has the armiest arm i ever saw, very proud of that one. Its also the last thing I made.

Home Sweet Home was also made for H/D Wireless, and the first bigger art piece I tried my hand on.

A muffled groan which is rather explicit and I entirely forgot about making it :D it has a ficlet going with it too.

(I think theres other Art stuff here with the tag #gnarf draws or something)

I reached my yearly goal of writing 100k words once again!

Fics and Ficlets I wrote this year: 20(ish)

Better Side of the Bed (Lock Down Fest, T, 2k)

It was all Malfoy's fault. Harry could be at the Burrow right now, but instead he was trapped in Malfoy's tiny flat. All because that dick couldn't stop bothering him about a stupid life debt he didn't even care about.

Doing What's Best (G, ~800 words)

Lucius looked down at the little bundle currently sleeping in Narcissa's arms and felt terror shoot through his body. A little boy, his hair so white it was nearly invisible. Born only a few hours ago, taking his first breath in the light of the rising sun. Narcissa had whispered a welcome, her eyes wet, her smile bigger than ever. But they both knew, even though temporarily safe, he really wasn't. Draco was born into a world ruled by war. If only it'd end soon.

I better be hallucinating this (T, 3.8k)

After the war Draco Malfoy is sentenced to Azkaban for a really long sentence. Apparently aiding in Dumbledore's death overrules any argument Harry could put up for him. After the trial, as the days pass by, Harry is more and more outraged at the sentence. He can't stop obsessing over the fact that Draco Malfoy saved his life and aided him during the war and is very much capable of redemption. Not to mention that Malfoy has always been a delicate git and would never survive Azkaban. After a few weeks obsessing Harry decides that Malfoy indeed can't remain unjustly in Azkaban and starts to plot a way to break him out of jail and hide him in Grimmauld Place. When Hermione finds out she's not amused. Ron is horrified. Draco still thinks he's hallucinating.

Keep Holding On (Wireless, M. 33.333) A collab with @maesterchill​ who surprised me with lovely art for it!

After the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry and Draco both fall into their own battles with their mental states. Draco is sent to Azkaban, and Harry turns to drinking, hoping to forget. Months later, Harry visits St Mungo’s new ward on the request of a friend, only to find Draco in a deep vegetative state. Not willing to give him up, Harry stays by his side, while simultaneously dealing with the Ministry's newest grand idea to make everything worse. Making new allies, and losing old ones along the way, will hopefully be worth it in the end.

Age is just a number (Fluff Fest, T, 1.5k)

Married for decades, their life is perfect. Until Harry gets a call and hears the following words: "Mr Potter, we caught your husband stealing ten large packs of King Sized condoms."

There was still hope (Hurt Fest, M, 3.1k)

Draco winced as pain shot through his leg with every step. This secret, back-alley laboratory had been his last chance, last hope, to find the potion. But nobody had it in stock, and there was no time left to brew it himself. Panic was slowly overtaking his entire mind as he crept out of the store and back to the nearest alley to Apparate back home. He already felt off, and it was still early in the day. Of course this thestral-shit had to happen to him, of all people. As if life wasn't bad enough for him already.

Desire (E, 1.7k)

"Auror Potter, what a pleasant surprise to meet you here. What can I do for you?" "Stop the show, Malfoy. There's no one around, and I'm not here as an Auror." Draco watched Potter move closer until they were nearly nose to nose, only the small counter of his shop kept Potter at distance. Potter's eyes were dark with something Draco couldn't exactly name, his face was flushed and the air surrounding him felt somehow static. Draco felt the urge to lean further over his counter, to drink in his sight, to touch the man on the other side—but he didn't.

Drarropoly 2020 currently holds 7 ficlets and is in a Series. The highest rating is Mature and its 3.2k in total at this point.

Let's not wait for France (Fan Fair, T, 17.7k)

All Harry had wanted from his Eighth year at Hogwarts was a little peace and a little privacy but, from the moment that he stepped onto Platform 9 3/4, it was obvious that nothing was ever going to be that easy. An accidental bond with Malfoy that resulted in them having to stay together at all times was the final straw. Things couldn't be worse. So much to a quiet year in Hogwarts.

Love letters for the oblivious (Mini Wireless, T, 716 words)

Draco had gotten the strangest letters all week long, which wasn't what anyone needed at Christmas. Especially not him. Either someone was taking the piss, or he had a very dumb and inefficient secret admirer. And Draco didn't know which would be worse.

Double-Booked (Mini Wireless, T, 2.1k)

Finally, peace and quiet, and— "Malfoy?!?" Or the one where Harry thought he could enjoy a quiet Christmas far from everyone, just to find out that the cabin he had booked already accommodated another guest.

The best Christmas he ever had (Mini WirelessT, 1.9k)

Christmas had never been less appealing to him than this year. That was until Arthur Weasley showed up at his door, dressed as Santa, inviting him to the Burrow.

Anon Fests to be added

Whoever made it to this point: yoooo! Friend! Lots of love to you! I also got tagged in many get to know me posts, plenty of love in my Inbox giving me love slaps left and right (honestly, im bruised, stop slapping me), amazing person awards, top 5 fics, and whatever you can think of.

To make up for not answering most of them because I’m a horrible person:

My favourite colour: purple My age: I’ll be 30 next year in April, I expect gifts, I don’t accept first borns My favourite trope: eight year My favourite animal: cat My favourite ice cream: Ben and Jerry’s Cookie Dough Here’s my writing Playlist, it’s the worst you’ll ever see, and yes, I use YouTube, I’m old.

Other things that happened in 2020 that made me happy:

I kicked out my mentally/emotionally abusive partner of 7 years in January

I kept my grandma alive through this *waves hand at world*

I was able to share my birthday cake with my family becaus I got to leave my first quarantine a few days before my birthday

I got to keep my job

I found a lot of lovely friends in this fandom, and got to keep them through this year

My cats are their usual little jerks and actually enjoyed me being at home due to the raging pandemic

I finally cut off my hair

I’m about to hit 3.5k followers here and I love you all

I’m also tagging everyone who sees this and wants to do something similiar! Show us what you did in 2020, the things you’re proud of, and the things you loved! Let’s spread some happy for the end of the year 💜🥰

[no6secretsanta]

Don't Say It

Hello and happy holidays to you, @glorifiedscapegoat! I hope you enjoy this cheerful little modern AU fic I wrote for you! I always love writing Nezumi and Shion as carefree teens in a world that isn’t trying to destroy them (we all deserve some peace this year, even the bee boys), and I promise a happy ending!

<3 @weiselzelle

******

For someone who disliked Christmas as much as he did, Nezumi had decorated an awful lot of Christmas cookies, six dozen, to be precise. He’d also listened to the Charlie Brown Christmas soundtrack four times in a row, going on a fifth. Soon, he’d be watching an equally cheesy Christmas movie. It wasn’t by choice. Not exactly, anyway—

It had all started in kindergarten, the year he’d met Shion. They’d become fast friends, and the prospect of not seeing his best friend over winter break had been too much for Shion’s young heart to bear. As a solution, their parents had arranged a playdate over the holidays. Shion had been determined to celebrate Christmas with Nezumi as much as possible, so their day had included as many Christmastime activities as possible. The experience, quite frankly, had been exhausting. Unfortunately, it had only been the start of a long tradition.

Now, if Nezumi had things his way, they’d simply do what they always did when they hung out and nothing extra… but intentionally ignoring Christmas would make Shion sad, which defeated the entire purpose of spending a day together. That was why Nezumi put up with the whole ordeal year after year, and this time was no different.

“So, you still haven’t told me what you want for Christmas,” Shion said as he delicately placed some of the cookies into a shiny, festive tin. “And you can’t say ‘I’ll think on it’ this time, okay? Christmas is in a few days.”

Nezumi picked up a pinch of snowflake sprinkles from a dish and dropped them unceremoniously onto an iced cookie. “I’ll think—”

Shion glared at him before he could even finish the sentence, and Nezumi couldn’t help but laugh.

“Okay, listen, I know I said I’d think on it, but the truth is, I forgot. You know how busy I was before break started,” Nezumi explained.

Shion’s expression softened and he returned to decorating cookies alongside Nezumi. “Yeah, I know. That’s why I didn’t bug you about it sooner. But I really do need an answer today.”

“Well…” Nezumi sighed and looked off. “How about you tell me what you want? I still have to get you a present, and maybe it’ll give me some ideas for what I want, too.” He normally prided himself— secretly— in coming up with clever gifts for Shion, but with Christmas in only a few days, simply asking seemed like his best option.

“Me? Um!” Shion seemed awfully surprised by the question. Judging by the growing blush on his face, however, it was more than just surprise.

Nezumi smirked and leaned closer to his friend. “You’re blushing, Shion. Is it something really dorky?”

Shion looked down, clearly hesitating. “Uh, you’d probably call it that, yeah…”

Nezumi waited for Shion to say more. “…Well? What is it?” he asked, and raised an eyebrow.

“Um…” Shion smiled nervously and tucked a piece of hair behind his ear, still not looking at Nezumi.

Once again, Nezumi sighed. “You’re going to make me guess, aren’t you?”

“I suppose you could try,” Shion replied quietly with a small shrug. His face was as red as ever.

Nezumi smirked. “I’ll take that as a challenge.” He rubbed his chin as he thought. “Hmm, something so dorky that you’d blush about it in front of me… This may be difficult.”

While Nezumi thought about where to start his questioning, Shion began to slowly decorate another cookie.

“Can it fit in a backpack?” Nezumi asked, watching Shion’s expression closely.

“No.”

“What about a locker, then?”

Shion blinked, his eyebrows drawing together slightly. “Um… no? I don’t think so, anyway.”

“And you think I can afford it?” Nezumi asked with a laugh.

“I mean—” Shion laughed as well, though rather nervously. “Y-Yeah.”

Nezumi gave a skeptical look. “You sure about that?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay…” Nezumi picked up one of the cookies he’d decorated and took a bite as he thought. “Is it… something I even know exists?”

Shion laughed a little again. “Yes.” It was the most certain answer he’d gotten yet.

“Okay, so it’s something I obviously know about, judging by that reaction,” Nezumi scoffed. “It’s something that could be put in a box, right?”

“W-Well, I guess so…”

Nezumi frowned. “I mean that it’s an actual object, not like the gift of going somewhere with you or whatever.”

“I guess we could go somewhere for my present,” Shion suggested with a smile Nezumi could only call coy. Of course, very few people even could recognize coyness from Shion. Nezumi knew, though. Shion was up to something.

Nezumi narrowed his eyes. “Second thoughts about challenging me?”

“We could go ice skating again. It’s been years since we last went.”

“We could not go ice skating again,” Nezumi retorted. “I’m not having you pull me down on the ice every five minutes.”

“You are taller than me now, aren’t you?”

Nezumi eyed Shion suspiciously. His latest growth spurt had been a bit of a sore spot for Shion, so why would he bring it up now? “I sure as hell am, you little runt.”

Shion’s blush fully returned and he averted his eyes. “S-So, that means I wouldn’t make you fall if I lost my balance, right?”

Crossing his arms, Nezumi leaned back in his seat. “I see… Finding the advantages to being your fun-sized self?”

“You know, I never made fun of you this much when you were the shorter one,” Shion said, slathering a bit too much icing onto a large, snowflake-shaped cookie.

Nezumi watched as Shion then dumped an excess of sprinkles onto the cookie. “Oh, come on. You always thought I needed to be protected or something when I was smaller than you, even though you knew I could’ve kicked your ass no problem. I’m going to enjoy this change as much as I wa—”

Shion abruptly shoved the cookie into Nezumi’s mouth, or at least as much of it as he could fit. As soon as it happened, Nezumi cupped his hand under the cookie in a desperate attempt to catch the sprinkles and dripping icing. While Nezumi struggled to eat the messy cookie that was now his responsibility not to get everywhere, Shion returned to decorating more cookies.

“And what kind of friend would I be if I didn’t care about your safety?” Shion asked, though he clearly wasn’t expecting an answer from Nezumi, not after shoving food into his mouth. “Anyway, I think ice skating would work out better now, so— ah!”

Nezumi smeared the icing that had dripped onto his hand across Shion’s cheek. “Here, you dropped something.”

Shion stared in shock for a moment before swiping a bit of icing from the bowl onto his fingertip. Nezumi had a good idea of where that finger was headed. As it drew closer to his face, he opened his mouth and caught Shion’s sugary finger between his teeth. The icing was sweet on his tongue, but Nezumi savored the expression on his friend’s face far more.

“Nezumi!” Shion squeaked when his finger was finally free.

“Yes?”

Shion gawked at his hand as if he’d never seen it before.

“…Yes, Shion?” Nezumi asked again.

“Um!” Shion blinked and shook his head. “W-We should both probably wash our hands before we decorate any more cookies,” he stammered.

Nezumi snorted out a laugh and followed Shion over to the kitchen sink. While he waited for his turn at the faucet, he bumped Shion’s hip with his own. For some reason, that always put a smile on Shion’s face. “Back to my guesses. Is it something I can buy?” he asked.

“Uh, n-no,” Shion replied, his eyes going wide. He turned away as he dried his hands.

“So it’s something I have to make, then?” Nezumi asked.

“N… No.”

“No?” Nezumi finished washing his hands and dried them off as well, thinking over what Shion could be talking about. If it couldn’t be bought and couldn’t be made… “Is it something I already have?”

“Uh…” Shion scratched the back of his neck and returned to the kitchen counter as if decorating even more cookies was an actual priority. “Technically?”

Nezumi scoffed and crossed his arms. “Technically?” he repeated. “What the hell kind of answer is that?”

Shion stared down at a star-shaped cookie he’d picked up. “Um… uh… I say ‘technically’ because…”

“Because…?”

“Well… technically you… have… what I want…” Shion mumbled, trailing off. He set down the cookie and smiled nervously, his eyes focused on Nezumi’s shoulder rather than his face. “Forget I said anything, okay? I like your ice skating idea. How about we do that for my present?”

Nezumi frowned to himself and ripped off a paper towel from the roll by the sink. “That was your idea, not mine,” he corrected, briefly running the faucet again to get the paper towel wet. He approached Shion and began wiping the icing off his cheek. “You forgot something.”

Shion shut his eyes while Nezumi cleaned off his face. “I did? Ha, oops, I guess I did…”

Somehow, exchanges like this made Nezumi dread their inevitable separation that would come with graduating high school. He didn’t like the idea of someone else helping Shion the way he did, taking his place… Would Shion even have him over during the holidays? How many more Christmases would they spend together?

“Hey, Shion?”

Shion peeked an eye open. “Yeah?”

Nezumi turned away to toss the paper towel in the trash and to avoid looking Shion in the eye. “You’re still going to invite me over for Christmas stuff once we’re in college, right?” he asked.

“Huh?” Shion blinked. “Y-Yeah, of course.”

“Good.”

Shion laughed a little and smiled sheepishly. “You know, I was starting to think you didn’t like celebrating Almost-Christmas with me. I’m sort of surprised, given how much you usually complain about Christmas…”

Nezumi let out a laugh as well and leaned his elbows on the counter. “I mean—” The gentle smile on Shion’s face kept him from finishing his sentence. He glanced away.

“Wait, Nezumi, do you secretly like Christmas?” Shion asked, just a hint of a giggle in his tone.

“What? No! I hate Christmas!”

The amusement left Shion’s face. “Oh. Um… Does that mean you don’t actually like doing Christmas stuff with me?”

Nezumi’s stomach sank. He hated seeing Shion sad. Why did he have to say that? “Okay, ‘hate’ may have been too strong of a word. I don’t hate Christmas. Not all of it, anyway,” he quickly explained. “I— Listen, I wouldn’t do this for anyone else, okay?”

Shion fell silent, staring down at the array of cookies before him and chewing his lip. After a long moment, he spoke again. “You know, we don’t have to keep doing the same stuff every year. Honestly, I just kept doing it because it’s what we’ve always done, and you kept agreeing to it, but I… I guess we don’t have to do anything Christmasy if you really don’t want to.”

“I mean, we are gonna hang out over break either way, aren’t we?” Nezumi said, though he knew in his heart that wasn’t what Shion wanted. Shion enjoyed the holiday season and all the pepperminty sweetness that it brought far too much to ignore it all with Nezumi. “Maybe if it’s just… a little less Christmasy,” he offered. His eyes darted around the room, searching for examples of anything seasonal that didn’t make him cringe. “Like… hot cocoa. I like hot cocoa. And I like eating Christmas cookies, just not, you know… decorating several dozen of them.”

Once again, Shion took a long while to respond. Nezumi might’ve been concerned if he didn’t know his friend so well; he knew it meant Shion was deeply considering his words. Besides, having Shion react logically rather than emotionally right now was preferable, albeit expected. After taking a hesitant breath, Shion asked, “Is ice skating too Christmasy?”

Nezumi breathed out a laugh. Of course their discussion had come back to this. “It’s an Olympic sport. I think that exempts it from being too Christmasy,” he replied. Skating really could turn out better than before, if Shion’s reasoning about his height was correct… Compared to watching a Christmas movie, it might actually be fun. “Listen, I’ll take you ice skating right now if it means we skip everything else on today’s itinerary.”

Shion blinked in surprise, finally looking up at Nezumi. “Y-You’re serious?”

“Completely.”

Shion gawked, then shook his head and said, “Um, right! I’ll— I’ll go tell mom what we’re doing!”

Nezumi laughed as Shion hurried out of the room. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes,’” he commented, though he knew Shion had to be on the other side of the house, already and well out of earshot.

Before long, the two boys were buckling into Nezumi’s car, which was parked outside. Nezumi smirked to himself as he turned the key and started the engine. The satisfaction of having a license and a car had yet to wear off.

“It’s still weird that we can just drive places now, isn’t it?” Shion commented, running his fingers along the car door just below the window. “I’ve barely used my bike this year.”

“You mean that I can drive us places now?” Nezumi teased. “Seriously, when are you going to take your test?”

Shion shrugged. “I don’t know. Driving is kind of terrifying,” he said with a small laugh. “Besides, I kind of like…”

Nezumi raised an eyebrow, giving Shion an inquisitive look before pulling out of the driveway and heading down the road. “You kind of like what? You know you can’t just trail off like that.”

“Um.” Shion laughed a little again. “Well, I was going to say that I kind of like when you drive me around, but that sounds sort of entitled, doesn’t it?”

Nezumi scoffed. “Yeah, it kind of does.” Still, he couldn’t help but feel smug.

“I mean it as a good thing, though,” Shion explained. “Actually, I… I really am scared of driving. It’s not that it’s too difficult, it’s just— but—” His sentence sputtered to a halt. Shion forced out an exhale and tried again. “I’m afraid I’ll really mess up and hurt someone, or worse…” He shook his head to himself. “But… when I’m with you, I feel safe. I trust you.”

“Well. Maybe I like driving you around. So it all works out.”

Sure, Shion would eventually have to bite the bullet and get over his fear. For now, though… This was fine, perhaps even preferable. If Shion had a license, Nezumi could easily picture him having a personal crisis over a fender-bender or an unlucky squirrel’s demise. Yes, perhaps this was for the best.

Shion turned his head away, and Nezumi knew that meant either Shion was blushing or something very interesting that only Shion could see was on the side of the road. “Y-Yeah, at least until we graduate. Unless we go to college in the same place…”

They hadn’t discussed college much yet, surprisingly. Nezumi knew Shion planned to go to medical school to become a doctor, but that was about it. He wasn’t even sure what he wanted to do, himself.

“I’m not going to med school with you,” Nezumi laughed.

“Well— just hold on a second, that’s not what I meant,” Shion protested. “I’ve been thinking about this. As long as the school you pick has a pre-med track, I’ll go there.”

They slowed to a stop at a red light. The contrarian part of Nezumi ached to argue with Shion’s suggestion, but he’d secretly been hoping for something like this. He hadn’t let himself think too much about going to college with Shion to save himself the disappointment, but now the possibility was very real.

“…Only if you want that, of course,” Shion added. Nezumi’s silence must have been a blow to his confidence.

The light changed, and Nezumi pressed his foot on the gas pedal. “You’re going to save me from the torture of rooming with a total stranger? Seems like a pretty sweet deal to me.”

“I— er, you mean you like my idea?” Shion stammered. “Really?”

Nezumi shrugged. “Yeah. Why not?”

Shion fiddled with the cuffs of his jacket sleeves instead of looking at Nezumi. “I… I guess sometimes I worry that you’ll get sick of me.”

“Unlikely.”

“What?” Shion looked up. “Really? Because sometimes you get really annoyed with me…”

Shion wasn’t exactly wrong. It had been much worse a few years before, when Nezumi was still grappling with the complicated mess of new emotions he felt toward Shion. It wasn’t the proudest time of his life. “When’s the last time I got seriously annoyed with you, though? I can’t remember,” Nezumi replied.

“Um… I believe it was last year, when we were discussing—”

“It was a rhetorical question, Shion,” Nezumi interrupted. “The point is, you’ve had over ten years to do anything truly unforgivable and you haven’t even come close, which makes you a pretty solid candidate for a college roommate, in my opinion.”

“What about that time at the homecoming dance?” Shion asked.

Nezumi blinked, furrowing his eyebrows. “What the hell are you talking about, Shion?”

“Back in eighth grade, I tried to do some kind of dance a bunch of other people were doing, and you looked me in the eye and said ‘truly unforgivable.’ Remember?”

“I��” Nezumi laughed and shook his head. “I may have overreacted. I hardly remember it.”

“So you aren’t even a little mad about that anymore?” Shion asked.

“No? Why would I be?”

Shion shrugged and sighed, which was a rather unusual gesture from his friend. “I know it hasn’t happened in a while, but you at least used to get mad at me for random stuff, sometimes for a long time. I can’t help but worry you might still be mad about some of those things.”

Nezumi was grateful for the excuse of watching the road so he didn’t have to look at Shion for this discussion. He’d thought they could just move on from that bumpy patch in their friendship without talking about it, but apparently that was not the case. He should have expected as much. “Would you believe me if I told you it was all just a lot of mood swings?”

“If you promised that’s the truth, then yeah, I’d believe you.”

Nezumi resisted the urge to sigh himself. “It’s the truth,” he replied. At least, it was the closest he was willing to get to the truth. He didn’t intend to give out any love confessions today. “I swear I’m not mad at you about any of that old stuff. I’m not mad at you about anything.”

“Really?”

“For now, anyway. I’m sure you could piss me off if you really tried.”

Shion giggled a little. “Okay, I’ll try not to worry about it.”

Nezumi turned into the parking lot outside the skating rink and easily found an empty spot. After they parked, Shion quickly unbuckled his seatbelt, but Nezumi locked the doors and kept his finger on the button to do it again if necessary. Shion looked over at him in surprise.

“Before we go in,” Nezumi explained, “you have to tell me what you want for Christmas.”

Shion gave him a grumpy pout. “I thought going skating was my present,” he argued, fiddling with the lock on his door. 

“You know what I’m talking about. Whatever thing I apparently already have that you want. If it’s a sentimental thing, there’s no guarantee I even have it anymore. I don’t save stuff like you do.”

“Well…” Shion averted his eyes, his cheeks growing pink. “I guess I already got what I wanted.”

Nezumi paused, looking ahead as he thought. “…Wait, you wanted to be college roommates for your Christmas present?”

“N-No, not exactly, but— well, yes, it’s basically the same thing.”

“Is it or isn’t it?” Nezumi unbuckled his seatbelt and turned more towards Shion, watching his friend closely. Either Shion was choosing his words carefully or he was planning to bolt from the car.

“I-It’s—” Shion hesitated. “It’s… Nezumi, all I want for Christmas is—”

The pieces came together as Shion spoke, and time slowed down as a terrible realization struck Nezumi. He immediately covered Shion’s mouth with his hand. “Don’t say it!”

The outburst shocked them both into a silence that stretched on for several seconds. Finally, Shion pulled Nezumi’s hand off of his mouth. “What?”

Nezumi felt heat rise from his neck up to his ears. This was going to be difficult to explain. “I-I… You were going to say the name of a Christmas song, weren’t you?”

Shion blinked, then replied, “Oh, y-yeah, I guess so. Um…”

Nezumi had to think fast. He hadn’t thought this conversation would be happening today, or even at all, and it was already off to a rough start. He wasn’t even entirely sure what Shion meant by that kind of request. “Listen,” Nezumi began to explain, though he didn’t really know what he was about to say. He kept talking anyway. “If… if, let’s say, this ends up being something people might ask us about later, I’d rather it not be a reminder of an annoying Christmas song. If what you’re asking for is what I think you’re asking for.”

Shion’s face had turned bright red and his wide, dark eyes were focused on Nezumi’s hands. “Um. What do you think I’m asking for, Nezumi?”

Nezumi almost passed the question right back to Shion, but maybe Shion really couldn’t bring himself to say it. The suave thing to do in this moment would be to answer Shion’s question with a kiss, but Nezumi’s doubts kept him from acting. He settled for a response somewhere in the middle. “It sounds to me like you want a boyfriend for Christmas,” he replied as casually as he could.

Shion didn’t respond, nor did he move. He sat there, frozen in place, clearly unsure of how to proceed.

“…Just nod if I’m right.”

Shion took a small, sharp breath and nodded ever so slightly. Nezumi had never seen his friend look so terrified in his life.

If there had ever been a time to kiss Shion, this was it.

Nezumi had never kissed anyone before, only stage-kissed a few people in drama class, but he reasoned it couldn’t be too different from the real thing. Gently lifting Shion’s chin with one hand, Nezumi leaned closer, lightly closed his eyes, and touched his lips to Shion’s. An odd thrill ran down his spine, which certainly never happened with a thumb in the way— or more likely, with anyone else. 

A second later, he felt a jolt of pain as Shion pressed back too hard, too quickly. Nezumi jerked away and pressed his fingers to his aching lip. “Ow—”

Shion quickly pulled back with a look of absolute horror on his face. “I-I’m so sorry!” he stammered. “I didn’t mean to— I’m sorry!”

“It’s fine,” Nezumi said with a small laugh. “Just— hold still this time.”

Ignoring the pain in his lip, Nezumi leaned closer again. Shion shut his eyes and held his breath. Nezumi lingered just inches away for a moment, then withdrew slightly.

“You… do want me to do this, right?” Nezumi asked.

Shion opened his eyes and looked up at Nezumi briefly before averting his gaze and nodding. “I— That is, only if you want to—”

They’d just crossed a new boundary together, and yet they were both afraid to take a single step further. Something about it was utterly ridiculous, but Nezumi couldn’t blame Shion for acting so nervous. After all, if this change ended up being a mistake, there probably wouldn’t be any going back. From what Nezumi understood about the world, lovers could rarely return to just being friends. Could he really risk their entire friendship? Was it already too late to turn back?

Why hadn’t he thought of this before kissing Shion the first time?

“Are you okay?” Shion asked quietly, meeting Nezumi’s gaze for only a split second. “You’re shaking.” His fingers carefully wrapped around Nezumi’s trembling hand.

“You’re shaking,” Nezumi whispered in retort.

“Y-Yeah, but it’s weird for you to be shaking like this,” Shion replied. He wasn’t wrong.

“So what?”

What kind of answer was that?

“Nezumi…” With a sad expression that was meant to be a smile, Shion turned his head away, breaking the tension and leaving Nezumi with an unpleasant sense of disappointment. “I… It’s okay if you don’t want to—”

“That’s not the— listen, Shion,” Nezumi argued. He didn’t dare pull his hand away from Shion’s gentle grasp. “What if this doesn’t work out? Then what? Do you really think everything would just go back to normal? That we’d just go back to being friends?”

A series of expressions crossed Shion’s face before he spoke, and Nezumi wasn’t entirely sure what any of them meant. “We’ve stuck together through everything so far, so I can’t imagine we wouldn’t be able to find a way to get along,” Shion said with a slight smile. “Besides… I really think… this could work out.”

Maybe Shion was being too much of an optimist, but Nezumi had considered that exact possibility before. Maybe they could get through anything together. None of their past disputes had been enough to damage their friendship. His doubts were losing their ground.

“And… what’s the point of acting like we don’t want more from each other now that we know?” Shion added softly, staring down at their joined hands as if looking anywhere else would cause him to lose what courage he had left. “I… I really love being with you, Nezumi.” He’d said that phrase to him many times before, but Nezumi finally understood what Shion was actually trying to say. “I always have,” Shion added, then let out a shaky sigh and briefly glanced up. “…Please say something.”

Nothing felt right to say, but Nezumi had to say something. He couldn’t leave Shion to doubt himself all over again in his silence. With his free hand, he lifted Shion’s chin so their faces were level once more. “Stay still, alright?”

Shion immediately complied, closing his eyes in anticipation of what was to come. If it wasn’t so cruel to make Shion wait, Nezumi would’ve taken a moment to enjoy the blissful expression on his friend’s face. Summoning his own courage, Nezumi leaned in and gave Shion a careful kiss. Shion’s fingers tightened around his hand in response, but he otherwise stayed perfectly still. Nezumi drew back and Shion’s eyes fluttered open, and slowly, a wide smile spread across Shion’s flushed face. Nezumi couldn’t quite stop himself from grinning as well. The thrill of the moment was still sinking in, even after it was over.

“So, um.” Shion sheepishly ducked his head and held Nezumi’s hand with both of his own. “What do you want for Christmas?”

“Hm. Pretty much the same thing as you, I think,” Nezumi answered with the casual shrug of a shoulder. The hand that had been touching Shion’s face came to rest on Shion’s knee, causing him to jump slightly, but neither of them moved away. An unexpected sense of freedom was settling in… the freedom to show his true affections after all this time.

Shion looked up with an embarrassed smile. “Okay, but I like giving you presents. Is there anything else you want?”

“Who says I don’t like giving you presents?” Nezumi scoffed.

“Well, you said you hate Christmas, didn’t you?” Shion replied, visibly confused. “And you’ve complained plenty of times about how trivial you think Christmas gifts are. I thought you would have just stopped giving anyone presents by now if you’re so against them.”

Nezumi sighed through his nose and glanced away. “It’s… complicated,” he tried to explain. “Overall, yes, I think Christmas presents are crap. But this is an exception.” Shion was the exception. Shion somehow always was the exception for him. “It’s… enjoyable to pick out a gift for you, and I know it’s not a wasted effort since you actually appreciate it.”

“I appreciate anything from you,” Shion said far too earnestly.

Nezumi laughed. This was exactly what he had been talking about. “Yeah, I know. It’s—” Instead of editing his words to be a playful jab, he allowed the rest of his thought to leave his lips, “—cute.”

Shion gawked at Nezumi, then covered his beet-red face with both hands. “I-I—!”

“Did I break you?” Nezumi asked with another laugh, using his newly freed hand to ruffle Shion’s soft, brown hair. Making Shion blush had yet to lose its appeal. “Sorry. Well, not really. Have I really never told you you’re cute before?”

“Um!” Shion kept his face covered as he spoke. “N-No, I think you’ve said that every time you’ve seen me dressed up for an event, but I know you were just making fun of me.”

Nezumi hummed thoughtfully. “Was I, though?”

“Wait, were you!?”

“Was I?”

Shion faced forward again and placed his head down in his folded arms on the dashboard. “Argh, which is it!?” he loudly groaned.

Nezumi rarely saw Shion this worked up. He wasn’t sure whether to be proud or sorry. “Is not knowing really that unbearable?” he asked.

“Kind of.”

Nezumi’s eyes scanned over Shion’s hunched, trembling form. His own nervous jitters had thankfully faded away, but Shion case seemed to be the opposite. “Serious question, though… are you going to be able to skate today? You’re shaking like crazy.”

Shion quickly sat up, placed his hands in his lap, and took a deep breath. “I’m fine!” he insisted, though his face was still awfully red and every inch of him shook.

“Are you sure?” Nezumi asked, raising an eyebrow skeptically. “If you’re that tense on the ice, you’ll definitely fall. What’s the matter, anyway?”

“Nothing!” Shion quickly answered and took another deep breath. “Nothing’s the matter! I’m just— I’m— I’m really happy. And excited.” He let out an anxious laugh. “And a little nervous.”

Nezumi felt his own shoulders relax. Had he been tense, too? “Nervous about what?” he asked.

Shion laughed again. “Um. Well, I did kind of punch your mouth with my face a little.”

“It wasn’t that bad. It doesn’t even hurt anymore.”

“That’s good,” Shion said, giving Nezumi a sheepish glance. “Um. But I’m nervous I’ll do it again. But I— w-want to try—” He looked at Nezumi again, this time with eyes full of hope.

Nezumi opened his mouth to reply, then shut it again and closed his eyes. When he still wasn’t kissed several seconds later, he gestured a hand toward his face and prompted, “Well?”

“What? Oh!”

Once again, Nezumi waited.

“Um, hold still,” Shion murmured and gently grasped both of Nezumi’s hands.

Nezumi complied. A moment later, he felt Shion’s lips gingerly touch his. It was over almost as soon as it happened, just a whisper of a kiss, but it somehow left Nezumi’s nerves buzzing long afterward.

“Was that okay?” Shion asked quietly.

Nezumi opened his eyes and smiled. “Completely painless.”

Shion beamed brighter than the sun overhead.

“Still nervous?” Nezumi asked.

Shion shook his head and looked away, still smiling. “No, not really. Only a little.” He gazed out across the parking lot for a brief moment, then grinned up at Nezumi. “Let’s go skating!”

Nezumi laughed, caught off guard by Shion’s abrupt enthusiasm. “You’re awfully confident all of a sudden,” he teased.

“It’s just that— I realized this will be our first date,” Shion replied. “It’s kind of exciting, you know?”

“You mean all those school dances we went to don’t count?” Nezumi scoffed, still smiling. He knew they didn’t really count. Nezumi had only been Shion’s date to keep him unavailable.

“Um— I didn’t think they did,” Shion said hesitantly. “Do they?”

“Not really, no.” Nezumi smirked as a thought crossed his mind. “Did I ever tell you that Safu called me ‘too possessive’ before the homecoming dance this year?”

Shion covered his face with his hands again and leaned his head against Nezumi’s shoulder. “Oh, jeez… No, you didn’t tell me. What happened?”

“She asked me not to ask you to the dance, and I told her that I’d already asked you and you’d already said yes. Apparently that wasn’t quite what she wanted to hear.”

“Thank you. Again,” Shion mumbled. “I only ever wanted to go with you, anyway.”

A part of Nezumi had always suspected as much, but actually hearing it from Shion gave him a smug sense of satisfaction. He slipped his arm behind Shion in a halfway embrace. “Maybe she’ll finally realize you’re not interested in dating her when she spots us making out at your locker.”

“You’re gonna kiss me at school!?” Shion asked in disbelief.

That wasn’t the takeaway Nezumi had expected Shion to get from his words, but Shion was always like that, surprising him in odd ways. “I might,” Nezumi replied. “You’d better watch out.”

Shion blinked, then smiled and stretched to press a kiss to Nezumi’s cheek. “Then I guess you’d better watch out, too.”

Nezumi turned his head away in an attempt to hide how much a little kiss on the cheek was making him blush. He was going to have to get used to this, wasn’t he? “…Noted.”

Shion giggled at Nezumi’s response, then grinned up at him. “Well, then. Shall we go in?”

“Sure. Let’s go.”

They both exited the car, Nezumi locking the doors before meeting Shion on the other side. They joined hands, and just to make things fair, Nezumi gave Shion a quick kiss on the cheek. For the entire walk across the parking lot toward the ice rink, Shion blushed and giggled while Nezumi wore a smug smile on his face.

If this was what celebrating Christmas with Shion would be like from now on… well, Nezumi certainly didn’t mind.