#(i joke but also. it was like my advent calendar for December. in telling me days were passing) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

polikszena · 2 years ago

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Ficlet advent calendar - December 6

Title: Scholarship program Fandom: Gilmore Girls, Top Gun: Maverick Characters: Lorelai Gilmore, Luke Danes, Sookie St. James, Jackson Belleville, Taylor Doose, Beau “Cyclone” Simpson Relationships: Lorelai / Cyclone Word Count: 1273 Rating: Teen and up audiences Songs: Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas Summary: It's time for the annual Santa Claus Beauty Pageant in Stars Hollow! With an outsider amongst the competitors: Lieutenant Beau Cyclone Simpson. Sets in 2003. Notes: Okay, so shipping Cyclone with Lorelai Gilmore came to my mind a few months ago, and despite how random this is, I grew quite fond of this ship, so I had to include them in this challenge as well. Also, this chapter tells the origins of the Santa figurine on Cyclone's desk (the one that appeared in Chapter 5). You can find some more stuff about them here. And just a warning: this one is written in first person which is something I rarely do when writing in English, but I wanted to experiment a little bit.

December 6 – Scholarship program

I have to admit, it was my idea. I just said it as a joke, but Miss Patty liked it so much that she convinced Taylor to include it in the town’s Christmas events. It wasn’t surprising because unlike in the baking contest, he would definitely stand a chance in a Santa Claus beauty pageant. For obvious reasons. He does look a little like Santa Claus, although the real Santa definitely wouldn’t make comments on what your fence looks like or make a scene in your diner every second day for not putting a dancing reindeer in your window. Anyway, Taylor won three times, which wasn’t hard keeping in mind that he was competing against Kirk or Andrew, just to name a few other contestants. None of them comes to my mind if I think of Santa Claus.

The Santa Beauty Pageant is like any other beauty pageant, except for the bathing suit part. They have to sort out presents instead, but the conversation and the performance parts are the same. Even with the world peace thing. Most Santa Clauses want world peace. Except for Taylor, who wants a doormat next to every fireplace, so when he goes down a chimney, he can wipe his feet so he wouldn’t get the whole living room dirty while going to the tree.

Luckily, this year, for the first time ever, I wasn’t part of the jury, because Jackson was one o the contestants and I didn’t want to be accused with bias. This way I could root for him with Sookie and make snarky comments on the other Santas. I also tried to convince Luke to come as well, but of course, he declined it.

“I don’t even know what’s the point of this,” he growled. “A Santa Beauty Pageant? They are not even beautiful!”

“Hey, this is not a beauty pageant! It’s a scholarship program!” I said, quoting Miss Congeniality, but of course, he didn’t notice that.

“Scholarship program? You mean that meet and greet tomorrow when they’ll have to listen to the kids asking for stuff they would never get?”

“Oh come on, Luke, you’re such a Grinch!”

“Why? I don’t want to steal Christmas; I just have better things to do than to watch the people who make a fool of themselves in every town event making a fool of themselves in a Santa costume,” and with that he went back to the kitchen and yelled at Caesar for something.

Well, it’s his loss.

“It’s starting, it’s starting!” Sookie exclaimed sitting next to me as Taylor, three-times winner and our host this year came on stage.

No wonder Sookie was so excited as this year her husband was also in the contest, and she kept telling me that he had a chance to win. We cheered for him when he came onstage wearing the red costume and I had to admit that he looked convincing in it. However, when he started to recite The Night Before Christmas using vegetables as puppets, I had to bite on my lips to hide my laughter, because he put so much effort in it, and I love Jackson with all my heart, but the whole thing was ridiculous. I mean, who uses eggplants as reindeer? I was so glad I wasn’t in the jury this year!

“Our next contestant is an outsider,” Taylor announced once we watched Putzie’s Little Drummer Boy and Kirk’s presentation on what to do when we get stuck in a chimney. “He doesn’t live here, but he is no stranger to this town. Please welcome Lieutenant Beau Simpson!”

I could feel my heart skip a beat as I heard the familiar name. What on earth he is doing here again? Whenever we had a town event, he appeared out of nowhere, as if there was something in this town that makes him return again and again. My stomach jumped when I saw him on the stage. He looked so great in the red suit that my brain filled with inappropriate thoughts. Which was quite weird as I don’t usually think that Santa is hot – I mean, he’s an old, bearded man in a red suit who gives presents to children. There’s nothing sexy about that. About Cyclone, on the other hand, there isn’t a thing that is not sexy. Even that red coat with a white faux-fur collar and the fake beard suited him well.

“Hello, Stars Hollow,” he said it into the microphone as he looked around the audience and then his gaze stopped on me. “It’s nice to be back.”

I couldn’t hide my smile as our eyes met. I was sure I would never see him again after Halloween, yet he was here.

“What are we going to see now?” Taylor asked.

“I’ve brought you a song,” he replied. “To wish you all a merry little Christmas.”

That was the first time I heard him sing, and even though I knew he used to do theater in the Academy, I was surprised how good his voice was. It was soft and deep as he sang Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas. It felt like a mug of hot chocolate with marshmallows. I shouldn’t tell it to Sookie who tried everything not to look impressed by the aviator as his husband was in the competition as well. However, I heard her sigh at the end of the song. Poor Jackson! After the song Cyclone had both the audience and the jury wrapped around his finger.

No wonder he won the pageant and got the Santa figurine as the prize. I couldn’t help but wonder how he would be doing on that meet and greet the next morning with the local kids.

When the people started leaving, I waited for him, and once he shook hands with everybody, he finally stepped to me.

“I thought I’d never see you again,” I admitted.

“Well, here I am,” he smiled at me under the fake beard. “I thought I’d surprise you, Junkie,” he added, using the call sign he and Luke gave me.

“You did,” I nodded. “Tell me, do you get a newsletter that tells you about the events in town? Because it seems to me you like it here.”

“In fact, I do,” he replied. “I mean, I do like it. You know, there is something here that makes me want to come back,” he told me, looking into my eyes in a way that it made me think that the ‘something’ is actually ‘someone’.

“I’m glad I wasn’t in the jury, otherwise I could’ve been accused of being biased,” I told him, trying to change the topic.

“So, you liked my performance,” he stated.

“You sing very well.”

“I want to celebrate somewhere,” he said. “Get a few drinks. Would you like to join?”

“Of course I would, just please, change first. Drinking with Santa feels a little weird. Even if he won a beauty pageant.”

“Hey! It’s not a beauty pageant! It’s a scholarship program!” he said.

I couldn’t help but laugh. I didn’t know he had seen Miss Congeniality, too. I looked up at him, and when our eyes met, I fell silent. My stomach began to tremble, and I had to take a deep breath to calm myself down a little. What has gotten into me?

“I have a question,” Cyclone said.

“What is it?”

“Can I kiss you here or shall we find a mistletoe?”

A grin broke out on my face as I pulled his beard down under his chin then I stood on my tiptoes to kiss him.

Read it on AO3

#top gun #top gun maverick #gilmore girls #lorelai gilmore #beau cyclone simpson #beau simpson #lorelai x cyclone #luke danes #taylor doose #sookie st james #jackson belleville #otp: talk fast fly fast #my fics #ficlet advent calendar 2022 #christmas

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bqstqnbruin · 4 years ago

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Always be my plus one

Here we go, y'all. We're ignoring that it's 3:30 in the morning but I'm just yeeting the first part of this into the wild and hoping it goes well. Ignore typos, we all know that everything I post is a first draft.

I need to thank @hockeywocs, @chara-hugs, and @zinka8 (WHY CAN't I TAG YOU) and all the anons who have come into my ask box to help me with this! ily all!

WARNING: some description of child birth

Hope you like it!

Series masterlist

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Part 1: Christmas Day and the day after Christmas

The name for Christmas comes from the shortening of “Christ’s Mass,” a traditionally Christian holiday that celebrates the birth of Jesus Christ to the Virgin Mary and Joseph in a manger in Bethlehem. Although the exact date of his birthday is unknown, around the fourth century the Catholic church fixed the date of this celebration to be December 25th. Other religions and belief systems have similar celebrations around the same time, such as the Winter Solstice, or Midwinter. Celebrations include a mixture of pre-Christian, Christian, and non-secular traditions, such as gift giving, completing an Advent Calendar or Advent Wreath, Christmas music, church services, a special meal with family and loved ones, Christmas trees, lights, nativity scenes, and Santa Claus to name a few.

The day after Christmas, known as Boxing Day in some European countries, is traditionally known as a shopping holiday. In America, this is typically the day when people start to return any unwanted Christmas gifts, stock up for next Christmas on items that are marked down on sale, or see friends that they hadn’t been able to see before Christmas.

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December 21, 2021

“One fifteen means fifteen minutes before I have to clock in. Fifteen minutes before a twelve-hour shift that I’m not ready for and don’t have enough caffeine for,” Anne muttered to herself, staring at her reflection through her car's rearview mirror. “But, fifteen minutes before getting to do something that I thankfully love, something that I enjoy doing.” No matter how long the shift in front of her, Anne had developed a habit of giving herself a pep talk before she got out of her car. “Whatever happens, you’ve helped someone.”

The last part wasn’t always true, knowing that there was the possibility that something could go wrong that she and the other nurses and doctors wouldn’t be able to fix. Lying to herself that everything was going to be ok was the only want to convince herself to go into the hospital every day. Finally mustering up enough courage to get out of her car, she grabs her bag from the backseat, heading in for yet another long day right before the Christmas holiday.

The maternity ward where Anne worked never ceased to be hectic, the miracle of life happening at least once an hour. No matter how much Anne had studied in nursing school, nothing could have prepared her for the stress that could come from the job, the long hours, the potential for something so right to turn so wrong in a minute, the way nothing can go planned since the baby dictated all, the mess that comes with every birth, or the joy that results from a former patient sending her the occasional picture of a baby she helped deliver as they’re growing up.

“Hey, Tyson, come on!” comes from inside the open doors of the building, Anne not paying attention to who it was coming from, causing her to collide with a stranger, spilling her much-needed coffee all over the both of them.

“Shit,” she says, not looking up from the brown splatter on what should be mint green scrubs. “I am so sorry.”

Standing in front of her was a curly-haired boy, about her age, wearing what she was sure was a Colorado hockey jersey. Beyond that, she had no idea. “No, no, it’s my fault. I wasn’t looking where I was going. Let me buy you another,” he offers, ignoring the persistent calls from his friends to hurry up.

Anne checks her watch: 1:19. “It’s ok. I don’t really have the time, I have to clock in in eleven minutes, and knowing the cafeteria or the vending machines, it would take a lot longer,” she says, trying to get by him. Before he can protest, she gets to the elevator that would bring her to her floor, thankful that it was ready to get her there without her having to wait. The doors start to close, only to be stopped by a hand stuck through them, the curly-haired boy with the coffee stain down the front of him getting on the elevator with her. Anne gives him a confused look, begging him to explain why he was trying to make her late for her shift.

“If you aren’t going to let me buy you one now to make up for it, at least let me see where you work so I can drop one off for you.”

Anne rolls her eyes, unamused by the man in front of her as he attempts to flirt with her. “That would be nice, but the chances of me getting it before it goes cold are slim to none, so you need to suggest something else if you really want to buy me a coffee.”

“Let me get your number so I can buy you one when you aren’t working?” he asks, reaching into his pocket to pull out his phone. 1:25. “I’m Tyson, by the way.”

The elevator dings, signaling that they were on Anne’s floor, opening the door to nurses and doctors running around, expectant fathers who were probably kicked out of the delivery room for making the mom too nervous pacing the halls, grandparents trying to control younger children who had little to no idea what was going on as they waited in the strange building. Anne walks to the backroom to drop her stuff off and clock in, typing her information into the stranger’s phone as he followed her like a puppy, his friend’s texts coming across the top of his screen asking where he went so they could leave.

“I’m Anne, and I’ve got to go,” she tells him, handing back his phone. There was no way he was going to text her, and it’s not like the coffee was that big of a deal to him. She could go to the vending machine down the hall and grab one during her break, or have someone else on their break do it for her if she needed it sooner.

“Can’t wait for our coffee date, Anne,” he says, winking at her before shoving his hands in his pockets and sauntering back down the hallway.

“Who is he?” her coworker, Jess asked, popping up out of nowhere. “He’s hot.”

“In more ways than one, apparently,” Anne jokes, “he’s also wearing my hot coffee on his shirt.”

“You didn’t,” Jess scolds her, turning her around to see the coffee that was spilled down Anne’s own outfit, knowing Anne’s tendency to be a little absent-minded as she gets wrapped up in her own thoughts. “Anne, you did.”

“Not on purpose!”

“DeFormicola?” Anne’s supervisor, Jackson, pops his head into the room just as she was clocking in, “We need you in room 414.”

“Saved by the bell,” Anne teases, walking down the hall to where all the noise was coming from, trying to throw on the appropriate clothing before she went into the room, struggling to get the gloves on as she entered.

“Ok, Erin, we’re going to need you to push,” one of the doctors says, Anne standing behind him as she watched the baby’s head crowning.

This was her favorite part of the job, helping the mother stay calm and trying to make sure that despite the child coming out of her, she was as comfortable as possible. Normally, she would be with the mom as soon as she came in, Erin clearly nervous as to what was going on. They had to be first-time parents, the dad going back and forth to Erin’s side and behind the doctor, looking mortified each time and clearly regretting what he was seeing.

“It’s a boy!” the doctor says, handing the new baby to a breathless Erin.

“A boy! A boy!” the dad yells, going out to the hallway, Erin clearly unamused by whatever antics he was going about.

“Don’t worry, he’s not the first one to do that,” Anne reassures her, knowing that something like that would happen at least five more times during her shift, hearing the father’s voice repeating the phrase. “I’m going to get him cleaned up and then get him right back to you, ok?” Anne asks, reaching for the baby as everyone else around her tries to clean everything else up.

“Be careful with him,” Erin warns, not meaning anything bad by it. She was definitely a first time mother.

“I will be,” Anne tells her, feeling her phone vibrate in her pocket as she does. “So you have a name picked out yet?”

“We were thinking Matthew.”

Anne turns her head, smiling at Erin. “That’s a good name. My older brother is named Matthew.”

Erin smiles at her, the father finally coming back in, clearly overjoyed by the birth of their new baby. Anne hands him back to his parents, Matthew screaming his head off as they get wheeled into another room.

Anne goes over to the desk, sitting down where she was supposed to be for the start of her shift to do paperwork, but the uncertainty in the hour by hour of the schedule was not surprising. She pulls out her phone, ‘Maybe: Tyson’ coming up across her screen.

“He’s already texting me,” she alerts Jess whose head whips away from her computer to look over Anne’s shoulder at what message the mystery man could have sent her.

“He’s horny.”

“Jessica!” she squeals, wishing she was more shocked by what her friend had said. “Why is that always your first reaction to a boy sending a message?”

She shrugs, swiveling back to her own computer, “I’m normally right. What’s he saying?”

“He wants to know when he can buy me coffee.”

“Horny.”

“Enough.”

“You should date him.”

Anne turns to her, clearly unamused by Jess’s need to continue the conversation. “I don’t have to date anyone.”

Jess lets out a long sigh, Anne knowing that she was rolling her eyes. “I’m not saying you have to, I’m saying you should.”

“Ok, I don’t want to date anyone.”

“Oh, come on Anne,” Jess says, getting up and plopping herself on the desk in front of Anne, fiddling with the wire connecting the mouse to the rest of the computer. “You work in a maternity ward where people become parents every day, and you haven’t even thought of finding a man?”

“You don’t have a point,” Anne tells her, not making eye contact with her.

“My point,” Jess says, leaning over to block Anne’s view of her computer screen, “is that you can’t be single forever.”

“Says who?”

“Didn’t you tell me that you were named after the patron saint of the town your grandmothers were from?”

Anne rolls her eyes, knowing where this was going. It was going in the same direction that this conversation always went in when she had it with her mom every single holiday. “All four of us are named after the patron saints of the towns our grandparents are from.”

“St. Anne is the patron saint of child care, grandparents and mothers.”

“She’s also that patron saint of unmarried women, so your argument is invalid, as usual.”

Jess takes in a breath to say something, cut off by Jackson calling for Jess to go into one of the delivery rooms. “Just don’t say no because you think you have to be single,” she advises as she walks away.

Anne leans back in the chair, rubbing her hands over her face. “This is how Christmas is going to go, isn’t it?” she asks herself.

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December 25, 2021

The number of cars lining her parent's driveway meant that she was one of the last ones there, but knowing her aunts and uncles, she wasn’t the last one there. Her parents were the ones who did Christmas Day for her dad’s family, Christmas Eve being the anniversary of her mom’s mom’s death, and, on top of that, Teresa doesn’t talk to her family over some argument and grudge being held over their parent's house.

Scanning the cars, she didn’t see the one belonging to her brother Matthew, or his wife, Stephanie. “I’ll just leave Harper’s gifts in the car,” Anne mutters to herself, trying to juggle as many gifts as she could while also balancing the box of pastries her mom asked her to pick up for dessert.

Without a free hand to open the door, Anne did everything she could to ring the doorbell with her elbow, praying that someone would come to open the door before she dropped anything.

Her younger brother, Sebastian, opens the door, a disappointed look on his face. “What the fuck is all this for?” he asks, taking some of the bags from her arms to lighten her load.

“Merry Christmas to you, too,” she remarks, “Yours is still in my car if you’re wondering.”

“Did you have to get gifts for everyone?” he asks, Anne greeting her aunts and uncles on the way to the tree to put everything down for later.

“Well, it’s Hazel’s first Christmas," she explains, referencing their sister's youngest daughter, "So getting her something and not getting the other children something seemed wrong, and then Jessica took me shopping and kept saying things like ‘oh this would be perfect for Lucy,’ or ‘oh don’t have you an aunt who likes mystery novels?’ And everything went downhill from there.”

Sebby groans, walking with Anne back out to her car to retrieve the rest of the gifts, Anne still holding the box of pastries since they hadn’t made it to the kitchen yet. “Please tell me you didn’t get Aunt Lisa that Agatha Christie illustrated novel that the bookstore was selling.”

“Please tell me you didn’t get Aunt Lisa that Agatha Christie illustrated novel the bookstore was selling,” Anne laughs, Sebby nodding his head. “I got a gift receipt.”

“What did you end up getting Matthew?” he asks her. Anne had texted Sebby in panic on Black Friday, coming home from a day of shopping with Lucy that left her without a gift for Lucy’s twin brother.

Grabbing the rest of the gifts and handing them to Sebby, she closes the door to her car and starts to go back inside. “I found this ‘make your own wine’ kit that I think he would like. That way Steph doesn’t have to listen to him complaining about how the stuff she drinks is ‘too sweet.’”

“What about for me?” Sebby asks, nudging Anne with his elbow as they arrange the rest of the gifts in the already mountainous pile under the tree.

“Oh, I knew there was someone I forgot,” she says sarcastically, Sebby ripping the bow off one of her carefully wrapped presents and throwing it at her. “Ok, now I’m never getting you a gift again.”

Sebby laughs, helping his older sister off the ground. The two of them wander into the kitchen, slipping in unnoticed due to the sheer number of family members and noise that was filling the room. “Aunt Anne! Aunt Anne!” Harper and Skylar squeal in unison when her nieces spot her, hoping that either she or Sebby had grabbed Harper, Matthew, and Stephanie’s gifts. She didn’t think there was anything left in her trunk.

“Hey there, fireflies,” Anne greets them, bending down as they both kiss her on the cheek. “Guess what? Santa stopped by my place and left some gifts for you, but he made me promise that you two were really good today if you want to open them after dessert, ok?”

The two girls nod excitedly, bouncing up and down at Anne’s words. To still be young and believe in Santa, that must be nice.

“Hey, ma,” Anne finally finds her mother, putting down the box of pastries in front of her and kissing her on the cheek. “Upstairs or downstairs fridge?”

“It goes downstairs. Come on, I have someone I want you to meet,” her mother says, dragging you away from your aunts that had aggregated around her. They all had excited looks on their faces, something that instantly worried Anne as she followed her mother down the stairs with the box. She could hear Matthew and Lucy’s voices, knowing that her brother and sister’s wife and husband had to be down there with them, too. “Matthew told me about this friend of his who couldn’t make it home for Christmas,” her mother whispers before she got to the last step.

“Mom, no,” Anne says, already knowing where this was heading. “I told you: I don’t need a boyfriend.”

“But I don’t have a grandson,” her mom whines, shaking Anne’s hand in her own against her chest.

“How is that my fault?”

“If you just find a nice boy, and get married, I just know you’re going to be my child that has a boy.”

“Oh my god,” Anne groans, pushing past her to get to the fridge.

Teresa pulls Anne over to the couches where her siblings were, Lucy sitting on one with her feet in Jason’s lap, Jason’s hand lazily rubbing his wife’s shins. Matthew was on the other, Stephanie nuzzled against his shoulder, all four of them with a glass of wine and three bottles open. Next to Matthew was a guy sitting there awkwardly, straightening his back when he saw you while Sebby tried to contain his laughter as he sat on the floor. “Jeremy, this is my youngest daughter, Anne. Anne, this is Jeremy,” she introduces the two of them before running up the stairs.

“I do have a girlfriend, actually,” Jeremy says, “So I’m sorry.”

Anne and her siblings burst out laughing, Lucy pouring her sister a glass of wine. “If only this were the first time Ma tried to set Anne up with a guy who was seeing someone.”

“I even tried to tell her that but she didn’t listen,” Matthew adds. “It’s better than when she tried to set you up with Adam,” he says, referencing Lucy’s partner at their optometry practice.

“Yeah, his husband wasn’t too thrilled by that potential match,” Sebby says.

They all keep talking, Anne just sitting and listening to them reminisce about all the people their parents had tried to set her up within their desperate attempt for her to no longer be single. It didn’t help that the last time she listened to them about dating was Andy, the boy who cheated on her when they got to college. Apparently going to school half an hour from each other wasn’t enough for him to keep up their two-year relationship instead of shoving his tongue down multiple girls throats before doing god only knows what else.

“When do you think they’ll stop trying to set me up with someone?” Anne finally pips in, accidentally cutting off something Jeremy was saying as she stared at the wine she was swirling in the glass.

“When you get a boyfriend,” her siblings say in unison.

“I hate all of you for doing that,” she laughs. “But, seriously, why is it so important that I have a boyfriend?”

“Oh, you know your mother,” Jason says, putting his glass down on the floor. “She saw what Lucy and I had and then wanted that for all her children.”

Lucy playfully shoves him, kissing him as Anne and Sebby groan. “She just wants you to be happy, and to her and dad, happiness is marriage and a family.”

“Where am I going to meet someone if I go to work or here where they try to bring in non-single non-potential suitors?” she asks, looking over at Jeremy. “Sorry.”

He shrugs, not able to get a word in before Matthew starts, “What if you met someone at work like how Steph and I met?”

“Yeah because there are so many single men walking around the maternity ward,” she says, her phone buzzing in front of her. “What about you, though, Seb, how’s Collins?” Anne asks, changing the subject.

“Eh,” he shrugs, his eyes wandering to Anne’s phone screen, “I’m not sure we’re going to last to graduation.”

“What?” Lucy squeals, causing Jason to jump as she threw her legs out of his lap. “I thought you said she was ‘the one’?”

Sebby looks down at his glass, a stupid smirk on his face. “Nah, that changed. She doesn’t want me to go to law school in Boston, she wants me to stay here or move to California with her.”

“But the adventure of moving with your girlfriend to another state!” Matthew offers, Stephanie rolling her eyes.

“Matthew, not everyone needs adventure like you do, hon.”

Anne’s phone buzzes again, a reminder that she had a text waiting for her. Picking it up before Sebby can see who it is, ever the nosy little brother, she sees a message from Tyson popping up as they continue their conversation about Sebby’s love life and Anne’s lack thereof. . They had only been texting for a few days since their encounter at the hospital, but every time his name came up she couldn’t help but smile, lifting the wine glass to her lips to cover it in hopes of her siblings not noticing.

How’s your Christmas been so far?

A simple ‘eh’ as a response was all that she needed to send. It could be worse, but her mom trying to set her up with a guy with a girlfriend was definitely not something that made for a good Christmas. The only thing that could be worse is if their dad came home early from the flight he was on with a guy he picked up in whatever country he had to go to that prompted him to miss the holiday. Normal dads who had to travel would bring their kids back little trinkets or a postcard, but Anne wouldn’t put it past Tony to borderline kidnap someone from the plane he was flying and bring them home for Anne.

Tyson’s contact comes up again, an incoming call that prompted Anne to step away so she could answer it. “What’s up?”

“You said your Christmas was ‘eh.’ What’s going on?”

“It’s a long story,” she groans, pressing her back up against the fridge.

“Well, what if I have something that might make it better?” he flirts.

“Oh? Like what”

“What if I said I’m 100% free to buy you that coffee any time tomorrow, since I know you said you didn’t have work, and you can tell me about Christmas then?”

Anne hears her siblings laugh not ten feet away, praying that they couldn’t hear her conversation. Taking in a deep breath, she knew that her cheeks were turning pink at his words. “Sure, that sounds good. I’ll see you tomorrow?” she asks, walking back over to join her siblings.

“I’ll text you details,” he tells her, hanging up.

“Oh, my god,” Lucy yells, interrupting their conversation. “Anne was talking to a boy.”

“What the hell? What makes you think that?” she asks.

“Your cheeks are red," Lucy says, prompting Anne to raise her hand to feel the heat radiating from her face, "Who else would you be seeing tomorrow?” her sister eggs on, her eyebrow raised since she knew she was right.

Anne tries to find her words, unable to think of a name that wasn’t a guy's name to blurt out.

“Is it Tyson?” Sebby asks, Anne’s unlocked phone in his hand.

“You jackass!” she yells, lunging at her brother to try to get her phone back.

Teresa’s footsteps sound down the stairs, her poking her head between the gap in the stair rail and the steps themselves, Anne and Sebby looking like a deer in headlights when they see their mom. “I was coming to say that dinner was ready, but what’s going on here?”

“Anne has a boy she wasn’t telling us about,” Sebby blabs, earning an ‘I’ll kill you’ look from Anne.

“Oh! Annie!” their mom squeals, running down the stairs to pick her up off the ground and hug her. “Why didn’t you tell us about him?”

“I, uh,” Anne starts, still not sure what to say.

“You have to bring him to New Year’s Day at Uncle Vince’s house,” she tells her, the rest of the siblings following Anne being dragged back up the stairs for dinner, her mom announcing that Anne had a boyfriend when she, in fact, didn’t.

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December 26, 2021

“So, are you going to tell me why your Christmas was only ‘eh,’ or am I going to have to guess?” Tyson asks, setting down two cups of coffee in front of them. Tyson had asked Anne to meet him at a small coffee shop that was within walking distance of her apartment, thankful that she didn’t have to drive through Denver on the day where everyone was returning anything unwanted, like her Aunt Lisa returning one of the copies of the Agatha Christie novel that her and Sebby each got her.

Anne groans, the images of last night’s dinner flashing through her mind. “Can we talk about something else, first?”

“Fine,” Tyson says, taking a long sip of the coffee, “What did you get for gifts?”

She raises her eyebrow at him, Tyson mirroring her expression except with a goofy grin on his face. Rolling her eyes, she starts listing off the stuff she got: “My parents got me a new attachment for my KitchenAid stand mixer since my younger brother, Sebby, broke it last time he was over and a voucher for a flight anywhere in the country like they do every year, um, some gift cards from my aunts and uncles, my nieces all did their best attempts at drawing a portrait of me, Sebby told me he was going to come over and make dinner for me, which scares me because he can’t cook, Matthew and his wife got me some books they thought I would like, and Lucy and her husband got me this bracelet,” Anne tells him, extending her arm out to show him.

“I have so many questions,” Tyson starts.

“I might have answers,” Anne tells him, raising her cup to him.

“How big is your family?”

“I’m the third of four, Lucy and Matthew are twins and are about five years older than me, then Sebby is a year younger than me. Lucy has two daughters and Matthew has one. My dad has two brothers; one older, one younger. The older one has three kids, the younger has two and then three grandchildren.”

“Mom’s family?”

Anne looks down at her coffee. “I’m the only one who talks to anyone on that side of the family. My mom and her brother got into a fight when their parents died over what was left to them. My uncle has two daughters and two granddaughters.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, looking between the coffee and Anne.

She shrugs, not really bothered by it at this point. “It’s whatever. I talk to them because I want to, so it’s fine. What other questions do you have, though?”

“The ticket voucher?”

“Yeah,” Anne laughs, “Our dad is a pilot with Southwest Airlines, so every Christmas they give us a voucher to fly anywhere we want. They say they want to make sure that we take time for ourselves, but I think Dad gets some sort of bonus for every voucher he buys.”

Tyson throws his head back laughing. It wasn’t that funny, but seeing him so happy, Anne couldn’t help but smile back at him. “What about you, what did you get for Christmas?”

“My mom and sister flew down and basically restocked my kitchen for me.”

“Ok, that’s a great present, though,” she says. “Where was your dad?”

The smile from Tyson’s face fades, not looking up at Anne. “I never knew him. My mom and grandmother raised me.”

“Oh, Tyson,” she says, reaching out for his hand. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.”

He shrugs, a forced smile on his face. “I wouldn’t trade it for anything, I don’t think. My mom and my grandmother are the reason I am who I am. I wouldn’t give that up or change it.”

The two of them sit there, Anne trying to think about how many times she helped deliver a baby when the father was nowhere to be found. She normally figured they were busy or just not in the delivery room, not being there all together was something she couldn’t even begin to imagine. “But enough about me. Why was your Christmas ‘eh’?”

“My family has it in their heads that I need a boyfriend,” she admits, Tyson smirking at her words. “And my brother saw your texts coming up on my phone and being the asshole that he is, announced that I was texting a boy, so now, I need to find someone to bring with me to my uncle’s house on New Year’s Day that I can pass off as you.”

Tyson gives her a confused look. “Why wouldn’t you just bring me?”

Anne sits there, a shocked look on her face. “Because they think ‘Tyson’ is my boyfriend, and you aren’t?”

“So we pretend. They don’t need to know,” he shrugs, acting like it was no big deal.

“That would never work,” Anne dismisses him.

“Why not? You don’t think I’m a good actor?” Tyson whines, acting insulted at Anne’s words.

She scoffs, “Ok, one, hockey players are never good actors, and two, Sebby or Lucy are bound to figure out that you are not my boyfriend. Sebby wants to be a lawyer so he analyzes everything and Lucy is just this perfect anomaly of a human who would be bound to figure it out.”

“I think I can play your boyfriend for New Year’s Day,” he says, confidence dripping in his voice.

“No, I can’t have you do that.”

The maternity ward where Anne worked never ceased to be hectic, the miracle of life happening at least once an hour. No matter how much Anne had studied in nursing school, nothing could have prepared her for the stress that could come from thhe job, the long hours, the potential for something so right to turn so wrong in a minute, the way nothing can go planned since the baby dictated all, the mess that comes with every birth, or the joy that results from a former patient sending her the occasional picture of a baby she helped deliver as they’re growing up.

#tyson jost #tyson jost imagines #tyson jost fic #tyson jost oc fic #colorado avalanche #avalanche #nhl #colorado avalanche imagine #avalanche imagine #nhl imagine #hockey #hockey imagines #tyson and anne

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estrel · 4 years ago

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It’s in the Knowing (that Wishes Come True)

destiel december 2020 prompt: sledding + spn advent calendar 2020 prompt: wishes wc: ~1.4k

[READ ON AO3]

“Dean, you had,” Sam huffs, “infinite possibilities at your disposal. And you wished for–for this?”

Dean’s a little confused, too, looking out at the mountains. Almost every inch is covered with a layer of snow, but by far, the hill they’re standing on has the thickest blanket. Dean’s feet sink into it a little when he shifts his weight, studying their surroundings.

Apart from the clearing they’re in, the place is littered with trees. Dean’s gaze follows the trunks up, until he’s looking at the sky, which is quickly losing light. He thinks he can make out the beginning twinkles of constellations, and when he laughs, a puff of frosty breath obscures them for a moment before fading off.

Then he smells it—something like firewood, he thinks, and turns towards it. Eyes still searching the tops of the trees, Dean catches sight of a thin column of smoke, likely from a cabin nearby.

A few feet away from them, a tree branch packed with snow loses its hold, and the whump of the snow hitting the ground startles Dean out of his thoughts.

“I don’t know, man,” Dean says, “It’s not like I really had a choice. I just, you know, just had this thought, I guess, and now…we’re here.”

He turns back to Sam, who focuses on Dean once more, seemingly having caught sight of the smoke too.

“I’m assuming…those have something to do with it?”

Dean’s eyes follow the direction Sam’s finger is pointing to, which is a somewhere on the ground and behind Dean, off to his left. Just at the edge of the hill sit two sleds—the old, wooden kind that seem like they’re always one good bump away from splintering into a million pieces, but somehow never do.

He chuckles, moving towards them to check them out, when Sam urgently pats his shoulder. Dean swivels around, taking in Sam’s confused—but not shocked—expression, and once more tracks his stare to see what he’s looking at.

Dean finds himself mirroring his brother, but otherwise smiling despite himself.

“What took you so long?” He hears himself say, feels Sam looking at him weird in response. If this was his “wish,” then this only made sense—it’d just been a matter of waiting for him to show up.

Cas levels him with a stare that says ‘really?’ and Dean moves to meet him half way.

“Jackets,” Cas says, handing Dean a thick black one that looks like it’s meant for snow. Dean takes it. “And Jack,” Cas adds. With a gentle tilt of his head, Dean looks over and sees Jack, not too far away, walking briskly towards them with something small in his hands.

“You two always come out here practically naked,” Cas says, leaving Dean and handing Sam his own jacket. “And the lumberjack outfits are fine for when it’s any other season, but you do realize it’s the dead of winter, right?”

“Well, you…” Dean starts, about to tell him off for the dress shoes and trench coat he’s never seen without, except that Cas isn’t wearing them, he’s…

“Cas, is that—are those—are you wearing boots?” Sam asks, a lilt of amusement in his voice.

Cas looks down, frowning. “These are my snow boots. Dean got them for me last Christmas.” He shoots Dean a confused glance, as though Dean should be in on this, and Sam was the one acting deluded. Dean can’t really bring himself to care, too busy smiling at the rest of Cas’ outfit.

He’s about to comment on the snow pants, which are black and baggy over Cas’ lower half, but Jack makes it to them just in time, pushing something into Cas’ chest.

“You forgot your beanie,” Jack explains, and then looking up at them, “I thought you guys came out ahead of us so you could ‘get the sleds ready.’ Cas and I started on the cookies so they should be done by the time we get back.”

Dean watches Cas slip the beanie on, losing his breath a little at the sight. The thought occurs to him—when he’s looking long enough to notice Cas’ red nose and ears and cheeks—that angels don’t usually get cold.

“Hang on—you left the oven on unattended?” Sam says. Pulling his eyes away from Cas, Dean chuckles at the wild look on Sam’s face, like he’s half ready to bolt for the cabin to stop it from catching fire.

“Of course not.” Jack frowns at him like he should know better. “I charmed it with the spell you taught me. It’ll shut off automatically when it’s done.”

Sam relaxes, forcing a smile. “Right. Uh, Dean? Can we talk for a second?”

Dean follows him around to the nearest tree, which is far enough away that Jack and Cas probably won’t hear them over their own conversation (Dean thinks he hears something about hot chocolate) if they talk quietly enough.

“We can’t stay here,” Sam says, “We have to find a way out.”

Dean wets his lips, “I know, Sammy, but…” He looks over at Jack and Cas.

Sam is quiet for a second before he notes, “You want to stay.”

He shrugs. “Just…just for a little while longer. We can–we can go sledding, eh? We haven’t done that since we were kids! And then—then we can figure out a way out of here.”

Sam has a look of growing concern on his face, something Dean thinks is teetering too close to pity.

“What?” He jokes, “You’re telling me you don’t wanna see those two sled? It’s not for us, Sam, it’s for the nerdy angels over there.”

His brother manages a smile, which is a relief. “Sure,” he says gently. Dean pretends not to hear it, heading now for the sleds and waving them all over.

He pulls the sleds apart, placing them each by the hill’s edge, but not so close that sitting on them would be enough to send them flying down the slope.

“Okay,” Dean starts, “How do we want to do this?”

Dean knows the answer before anyone says it. Better stated: he knows his wish before anyone else does.

“The logical route would be to pair up,” Cas says seriously, “You and Sam have done this before, so each of you gets a sled.”

Dean feels his chest go tight with anticipation for a second, and then it subsides. He nods.

“Good idea. Who—”

“I’ll go with Jack,” Sam interrupts, a wry smile on his face. Dean quirks his lips in a smile, cocking his head to the side in a mild ‘screw you’ gesture to his brother. He turns to Cas.

“Well, hop on then Louise and we’ll sail off this cliff together,” Dean says. He waits for the recognition to spark in Cas’ eyes and he smiles—for real this time—as Cas situates himself in the front of the sled. He spares Jack and Sam a glance, amused at how Sam is struggling not to take up most of the sled with his legs, before sitting down behind Cas.

And he stays like that for a moment, sitting awkwardly and gathering his courage, until he musters up enough to wrap his legs around him.

“I’m nervous,” he hears Jack say. Dean thinks, Me too. Sam laughs and reassures Jack that it’ll be fine.

“Okay, uh, you’re gonna have to lean back once we kick off, alright?” Dean instructs, trying to remember how to do this.

“You promise I won’t fall?”

Dean swallows. “Nah. I’ll hang on to you.”

“Let’s race,” Sam says. He can feel him staring and avoids Sam’s gaze. He’ll blame the tint on his cheeks and ears on the cold, if Sam ever asks.

Dean scoffs, “You’ll lose.”

“Prove it,” Sam responds, and then he’s pushing off and leaving them in the dust.

Dean’s surprised by the laugh that escapes him, and then he’s pushing off too, and he and Cas are propelled down the snowy slope after the others.

Cas leans back as instructed. Dean’s pretty sure the guy can feel the rush of his heartbeat with his back on Dean’s chest like that, but Dean can also feel Cas’ steel grips on his legs, nails digging into his shins.

He laces an arm around Cas’ chest, pressing him closer. “I’ve got you!” he reminds him.

There’s a beat, and then over the sound of the wind whipping against their faces, Cas says, “I know.”

tag list (ask to be added/removed):

@castiels-a-lamp @jellydeans @writtenmemxries @cestladean @randomblabbling @fluffiestlou @dreamnovak @weird-dorky-little-d @depressivedemonnightmaredean @jackleslongcon @friedchickenangelwings @galaxycastiel @destielle @dickspeightjrs @on-a-bender @organicpurplepants @casbelieves @samuelswinchester @spacegirlstuff @seffersonjtarship @winchester-novak @professorerudite @squintingg @holmesemrys @imnotrevealingmyname @festivemish @good-things-do-happen-dean @angxlsgrxce @casandeans @castielscrookedtrenchcoat @destiel-in-its-natural-habitat @gracelesschoice @superduckbatrebel @iheardyourprayer @top13zepptraxx @that-one-fandom-chick @scoobydean @destiels-canonahhhhhhhhhh @maxguevra @cursed-or-not @i-think-im-humanbut-cant-besure @fitinmypoems @madilineskingdom @awolfnamedaliac @castee-yel @tearsofgrace @credentiast @fivefeetfangirl @my-favourite-hellatus @gray-is-neutral @sunflower-vol-28 @ensignabby @ar-bi-trary @lulu-zodiac @y-yo-a-ti-dumbass @castielology @nguyenxtrang @destiel-bitches @supergaycas @deancasology @miadeline @save-the-sloths

#this is so fluffy im gonna puke #alsO i've never ridden a sled before so like #dont cancel me or anything #destiel december 2020 #spnadventcalendar2020 #rambleoncas writing #spn #destiel #supernatural #whats up with me and these titles lately huh??#weirddd #roc original #my post

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hd-learns-korean · 3 years ago

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HD'S FESTIVE ADVENT CALENDAR: DAY 1

Hey all! Happy 1st of December! To kick start my festive advent calendar I am creating a post that uses vocabulary from the song 'Santa Tell Me'

I am using it as a translation exercise as the song is in English, so I have flipped the words into Korean!

No jokes I love this song, it's such a bop! ❄💃❄

Let's start this festive study season wooop woop!

Quick Note: I am not 100% fluent in Korean so there could be a few mistakes. If you spot any or a better way to translate a sentence please let me know so I can correct it! Also song lyrics are not created by me, I just created a lesson post out of them!

CHALLENGE: As an additional challenge if you would like to create any notes from this study post and create your own sample sentences from them I'd be so happy to see them! To tag me in your study notes just use the hashtag #HD'SFESTIVEADVENTCALENDAR or tag me @hd-learns-korean

VOCABULARY:

산타 Santa

From the song: ‘Santa, tell me if you're really there'

사랑에 빠지다 to fall in love (with)

Present Tense: 사랑에 빠져요

Past Tense: 사랑에 빠졌어요

Future Tense: 사랑에 빠질 거예요

미나는 그녀의 남자친구와 사랑에 푹 빠졌어요. Mina fell madly in love with her boyfriend. Mina fell head over heels for her boyfriend. Mina is in love with her boyfriend.

From the song: 'Don't make me fall in love again'

'Fell in love on Christmas night'

신경(을) 쓰다 use one’s nerve/ show concern/ care about sm/ sth

Present Tense: 신경을 써요

Past Tense: 신경을 썼어요

Future Tense: 신경을 쓸 거예요

그 남자는 돈에 지나치게 신경을 써요. He cares too much about money.

미나는 그녀의 가족에 신경을 쓴다. Mina cares about her family. Mina takes care of her family.

From the song: Santa, tell me if he really cares

내주다 give/ offer/ yield/ surrender

Present Tense: 내줘요

Past Tense: 내줬어요

Future Tense: 내줄 거예요

교회는 많은 사람들에게 식사를 내줘요. The church feeds a lot of people. The church serves meals to many people.

From the song: ''Cause I can't give it all away'

냉정하다 cold/ cold – hearted

Present Tense: 냉정해요

Past Tense: 냉정했어요

Future Tense: 냉정할 거예요

미나는 냉정하게 대응했어요. Mina responded calmly. Mina responded coldly.

저는 화가 나서 냉정을 잃었어요. I lost my cool because I was angry. I got angry and lost my cool.

와 너 진짜 냉정한 사람이야! Wow, you're such a cold-hearted person!

From the song: 'And I'm trying to play it cool'

돌아다니다 get around/ go around/ wander around

Present Tense: 돌아다녀요

Past Tense: 돌아다녔어요

Future Tense: 돌아다닐 거예요

언젠가 저는 전 세계를 두루 돌아다니고 싶어요! Someday, I want to travel all over the world!

요즘에 하루 온종일에 잠옷 바람으로 돌아다녀요. These days, I go around in my pyjamas all day long.

From the song: 'But it's hard to focus when I see him walking around the room'

썸타다 a fling (Push and pull)/ flirt/ catch feelings for

Present Tense: 썸타요

Past Tense: 썸탔어요

Future Tense: 썸탈 거예요

From the song: 'But it's hard to tell if this is just a fling'

두다 put/ set/ place/ position/ park

Present Tense: 둬요

Past Tense: 뒀어요

Future Tense: 둘 거예요

From the song: 'Oh, I wanna have him beside me like oh-oh-oh'

겨우살이 mistletoe

From the song: 'I'm avoiding every mistletoe until I know'

적 experience

From the song: 'I've been down this road before'

불 fire

From the song: 'Be my fire in the cold'

벽난로 fireplace

From the song: 'On the 25th by the fire place, oh-oh-oh'

올해 this year

From the song: 'This year I've got to be smart'

There we go everyone! Day 1 Christmas Study List complete! I hope you enjoyed listening to this mega Xmas track just as much as I did! (Just saying, I nearly sung myself hoarse after listening to this on repeat, I need a hot honey and lemon drink now! 🤣)

As always everyone

Stay safe, have a beautiful day, and Happy Studying! X

Sources: Papago translation, Naver Dictionary, Verbix.com

Photograph: hd-learns-korean

#langblr #korean langblr #ariana grande #santa tell me #korean study notes #korean #HD'S FESTIVE ADVENT CALENDAR

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wordynerdygurl · 4 years ago

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A Wonderful Christmastime

Author’s Note: Well Hello All! I hope that you’re all taking care of yourselves and staying well! My tag-list is open and you know I love the validation of reblogs, shares, tags and adds!! I have been working on a larger OC story which has kept my from my Loki writings, but I entered a challenge posted by @toomanystoriessolittletime for the Christmas holiday. If you aren’t following, please do as she’s got a great little Advent Calendar of seasonal stories for you! One a day through the month of December!

I chose a prompt based off of my least favorite Christmas song. Ever. Like in the history of humanity. Like, my family torture me with it because of how much I dislike it. This story is a chance to take a little lighthearted revenge on Sir Paul McCartney and also, hopefully, help you all enjoy a Wonderful Christmastime! Also, isn’t this gif the cutest thing in the world? My thanks to the OP and creator for it... it’s amazing and I love Christmas Loki!! Pairing: Female Reader x Loki

Summary: Everyone has a favorite holiday song... when Loki learns which one you dislike, he uses it to his advantage. Warnings: Christmas holiday mentions, SMUT, Oral (F receiving) and MF Sex, also, the over use of a certain song that makes me, personally, crazy!

This was it. That perfect moment when all of the holiday hustle was behind you. Nothing to buy, nothing to ship, nothing to wrap, nothing to bake. It was all over. You had made it through another Christmas Eve.

Your well decorated tree sat in the corner, presents tucked below for you and Loki in the morning. The frittata was resting in the fridge along with the two bottles of Prosecco you planned to have with brunch. Hell, it was the holidays, after all.

But that was for tomorrow.

Tonight you were relaxing after an afternoon of family Christmas fun. Nieces and nephews, piles of shredded paper, stacks of snacks and so much laughter your belly muscles were sore. And through it all Loki had been a champ! Holding your hand, rubbing the small of your back, pulling out your chair; Loki had put the other partners to shame. Whether he was telling bawdy but tasteful jokes to the men who drank cheap beer around the TV, sharing hair care tips with your sister’s oldest girl or whispering with your mom in the kitchen, he was always where he needed to be. For the first time in ages, you had been able to enjoy the day fully, and you knew Loki was the reason why. After getting home, trading your dress and boots for comfy shorts and a sweatshirt, you padded into the living room. Loki was there, sitting cross legged, digging through your bag of swag. He had put seasonal music on in the background while munching through a plate of Auntie’s sugar cookies, two well poured goblets of red wine waiting to be had at his side. God, he was good. “Is one of those for me?” You couldn’t help smiling. Loki, looking like a little kid, over excited and surrounded by all the trapping of Christmas just felt so precious. It took him a moment to reply as he was solely focused on the handmade puzzle box your mother had crafted for all the guys this year, “Hmm? Yes… one’s for you…” Kissing the top of his head, careful not to dislodge his Rudolf blinking antler headband, a gift to Loki from your youngest nephew, you moved towards the couch. Sipping from your glass of wine, snuggled under the softest chenille blanket your sister-in-law could find, you sighed contentedly. Victory over the holiday season felt amazing. Now all that was left on your to-do list was eating, drinking, and enjoying alone time with Loki until New Year’s. Suddenly exhausted, you felt the lovely warm drag of drowsiness and snuggled deeper into the sofa. Shuttering your tired eyes, you listened as Loki stood up, off to hunt up some more food, no doubt. Visions of sugarplums danced in your head as you started to succumb to a sweet slumber. That’s when you heard it.

“The moon is right, The spirit’s up, We’re here tonight and that’s enough…” Groaning, wide awake now, you sat up with a shout, “Loki?!” Like magic his raven head popped around the doorframe, his reindeer antlers askew, a candy cane hanging out of his mouth, “Yes?”

“Um… question: What are we listening to?” Stepping back into the living room, his new holiday flannel shirt open at the neck, Loki leaned over you, husking playfully, “Music. At least, that’s what I believe you Midgardians call it.” “Ha ha. Yes, I know it’s music, but this particular song?” You couldn’t keep the tartness from your tone as you pressed your nose into the handsome one on Loki’s face. Pausing, listening intently, Loki cocked his head to the side. Singing along, his bells jingling, “Simply having a Wonderful Christmastime!” “Ugh. That’s what I was afraid of!” Flinging a hand over your eyes, you grumbled, burrowing back into the cozy couch as a means of blocking out the obnoxious noise of the worst holiday song in the history of humanity. Making himself comfortable at your feet, pouring himself another glass of vino, “I like it. It’s simple. Direct. What are you doing? Me? I’m simply having a wonderful Christmastime!” From deep in the cushions, muffled but forceful, you pleaded, “Make it stop! Please!” “What for? It is still Christmastime, is it not? And we are enjoying a wonderful time, aren’t we?” Turning back to face him, a Scrooge-like scowl on your suddenly serious face, “I’ll do anything to get you to turn that off.” That got his attention, “Anything?” Sitting up quickly, you reached for your blanket only to feel Loki snatching it out of your grasp, “You said anything, darling.” Tugging on the plush fabric, practically pouting, “You’re not going to take my new fluffy blankie, are you?” “Oh no. That’s not nearly enough to stop me from playing my favorite Christmas carol.”

“It’s your favorite, now? Loki, you just heard it.” Waving your gripes away, pinning you under his arms and under your blanket, “I love it. It’s my favorite. You can’t mess with perfection.”

You wiggled, trying to free an arm or a hand, anything to help defend yourself from Loki’s soft, but effective attack, "Perfection? Loki, it's awful."

"I disagree. But…” Brushing a gentle kiss to your captive lips, making you melt into his warm touch, Loki made sure to keep you immobile. Unraveling under his ardent attention, you gave up fighting, focusing on Loki’s roving hands through the protective layer of your new throw.

Lost in his lips, you ignored the wretched recording still spinning, until sitting back with a sly smile Loki continued, “Regardless of my newly acquired antlers, I am a reasonable man. I'm willing to hear your side of things. Convince me, dove."

Looking up at him through your lashes, licking over your bottom lip that tasted of Loki's peppermint, it took you a moment to refocus on your argument. Sighing doggedly, “It’s just garbage. Too sweet, too synth-pop. It’s plastic. There’s no substance to it.”

At least Loki did you the service of considering your answer. He paused, listening to the offending tune, starting to hum along once more. “I don’t know. It sounds like church bells ringing. And I like when the kids start singing!”

“You couldn't. Those are two of the worst things about it! There’s not a single redeemable factor in it’s trite, super saccharine, four minute run time.” Agitated now and edging into anger, your voice kept rising, spurned on by the inability to get away from Loki’s plush prison, “Also, get off me!” “Can’t do it. But-” nuzzling into your neck, tasting along the tendon there, “-I can replay this song.” “That’s it!” Fury tinted your words as you tried harder than ever to break free of your fleece prison but Loki was brick heavy, unmovable, and impossibly giddy at your predicament. All things which only added fuel to your fire. Wriggling like mad, struggling to kick a foot free, you squirmed desperately for leverage. His response? A deep chuckle, “Is that all you’ve got, darling?” Laying those long, lanky bones on top of you, holding down the throw’s corners in a way that made fighting futile, Loki smirked at your distress, “I still don’t see why you hate it so much. It is a simple song because we’re simply having a wonderful Christmastime! It’s in the title after all.” With cheeks hot from exertion, fully frustrated and forced to listen to Paul McCartney’s bland holiday ballad start a second time, you nearly shrieked, "I hate it, Loki! Loathe it, really! The lyrics are basic, the keyboard is tinny, and Sir Paul is better than that!” “Is that all?” “No! It's even worse when someone else sings it, like those kids from Glee or an up and coming Country artist making their first holiday record!"

Beneath the blanket your chest rose and fell with bothered breaths. From rubbing against the couch your hair stuck up in odd angles and you could feel heat rising off your neck. How had you gone from almost asleep to a blanket related battle royale? Loki, taking advantage of your confinement, kissed your forehead sweetly, and the change in tactic caught you off guard. His lips grazed the tip of your nose as you huffed out a pout, eager to see where his mischief making would lead. Pressing his forehead to yours, that deep sonorous voice whispering lowly for your ears alone, "Not a compelling enough argument for me to turn it off, I'm afraid." And to your holiday horror the song in question started again. Grousing, "Don’t play it again! Please! I’m begging you!” “Already begging darling?” Thick with mocking, Loki slotted himself between your thighs, keeping you from fighting back with any power. Whining full out now, poking out your bottom lip, “Come on! Please, let me up and turn this off!” “Why, of course, my pearl.” With no effort on his part, Loki scooped you up, blankie and all, pulling you tightly to his chest. Gripping your bottom, his fingers firm through the cotton of your pj pants, he squeezed hard enough for you to yelp. “Hey!” But that’s all you managed before his talented tongue invaded your mouth. Now the only thing you could hear was the shaky exhale of your shared sighs and your own needy mewls when Loki started to withdraw.

Godly hands drew your thick and comfy sweatshirt over your head, leaving you bare against the cuddly softness of your new blanket, a perfect dichotomy to the heated hardness of Loki’s chest. With your arms finally free you tangled your hands in the long tresses of your lover, distracted from the awful music by his groan, “Easy darling.” But now that the tables were tipped in your favor, you had no intention of going easy on Loki. Not after his antics tonight, not a chance. Tugging hard enough for him to wince, you ground against his lap with a nip to his neck, “Turn it off then.”

“Now, why would I do that? Aren’t we still enjoying a Wonderful Christmastime?” Bouncing in his lap, purposefully teasing your mischief maker with a smirk, “We were until you let this terrible song play!” Laughing heartily, Loki stroked over your bare shoulder, one hand resting on your waist and the other cupping your cheek. “If I wanted to, my darling, I could change your mind. I could make you adore this song.” “Is that so, Odinson? I doubt it.”

“Doubt me? On this, Christmas Eve! When you know the feelin’s here that only comes once a year?” A confident nod was all he got for an answer. In a flash you were laying on the soft rug, your legs wrapped over Loki’s and your new blanket tossed to the side. Fiery kisses to your chest and neck led him to the shell of your ear where he hummed hungrily, “The moon is right, the spirits up…” Enjoying his mouth but not his music, you shoved against his shoulders, panting, “Don’t sing, just kiss me.” Licking into your mouth, Loki’s tongue obliged your need as his hands skated over the curve of your hip, breaking your kiss to croon, “We’re here tonight, dove… and that’s enough.”

“Loki… please stop…” You fisted his shirt, pulling at the buttons until his muscular torso was under your fingers, strong and solid. Pushing the plaid cotton off his shoulders, you let your nails drag over Loki’s naked back as you shifted your hips, subtlety be damned. He took the hint. Nipping a trail over your tummy, Loki kept his eyes on yours as he shucked your shorts, snorting, “No panties? Naughty!” “If that’s naughty, Loki, then what you’re doing to me is positively evil.” That made your lover grin, his eyebrows lifting in a wickedly Grinchy smile before caressing the inner skin of your thigh with his clever mouth. Slithering closer to your center, sweeping his tongue in swirls, you couldn’t help the excited shiver he created. It was enough to block out the terrible song now that you had something more arousing to hold your attention. Using those long, deft fingers, Loki parted your folds with a murmured moan, “You’re so wet, darling. Maybe you like this song more than you let on?” A curse for him and his rotten taste in Christmas music died in your throat as Loki connected to your sacred skin through a carnal kiss. Those strong forearms ensured that your knees stayed open wide as his tongue tasted, teasing your clenching cleft, humming with appreciation at your body’s response. Circling your clit, sucking gently before changing direction and licking your lower lips once more, Loki had you teetering on the cliff of climax in minutes.

Your stomach tensed, ready for release. Delicious waves of orgasmic bliss were pulsing through you, needing just a touch more friction, a little more pressure in order to crash over you. Gasping out incoherent whimpers, fingers ruffling Loki’s dark hair, you can’t fight the neediness that he’s created in you. It just feels so incredible, something Loki knows you’re enjoying, “Like that, darling?” Passion clouds your vision as your desire crests, unfulfilled, “You know I do, Loki…” Fingers slide sensually through your slit, his bright eyes on you, “How much? How much do you like it?” Shaking your head, still foggy with needs unmet, “So much, baby. I love making love to you so much.” Bumping against your swollen bud, pressing down firmly, Loki begins using his hands to entice you towards ecstasy. Two fingers enter you easily, delightful, sure, but not as filling as Loki’s hard member. Reaching for him, you want to lose yourself in loving and being loved by your space god, “Sing for me, dove.” Beseeching you breathlessly, Loki’s hand stills, keeping you at the fringe of falling apart. Waiting for your reply impatiently he asks again, “Sing, please.” “A song?” His reply is a shake of his dark head. Slowly, smoothly, Loki withdraws his fingers, only to press them into your yielding flesh once more, “Yes, my darling. Sing my favorite song!”

Sucking a bruise onto your inner thigh, those fingers of his spreading your walls, the exquisite pressure on your straining clitoris. Any one of these distractions would have been hard to concentrate through. Experiencing them all together? Overwhelming.

And that’s the excuse you would use to explain what happened next. “The party’s on… The feeling’s here…” As soon as the words left your lips, Loki’s attention resumed in earnest, “That’s it, dove! Keep going!” “That only comes, this time of year… Ah! Loki!” Loki watched you lustily. Your eyes half closed, legs splayed lewdly, a nervous grin on your face. He never wanted you more. Slipping out of his jeans, wasting no time, Loki guided his hardened cock into you with a satisfying sigh. Your response to his abundance? “Oh shit, Loki! Yes!” Snapping his hips against your pelvis, iron banded arms clinging to you, Loki stuttered, “I don’t hear you singing!” “We’re simply having a Wonderful Christmastime!” How many times did you repeat the chorus? Hard to say. It became a mantra. A thing to chant in time with everyone of Loki’s deliberate and deep thrusts. This time, when you felt the familiar stirring of your satisfaction, Loki didn’t stop you. Encouraging you with a soulful kiss, his stroke surging in time with Paul McCartney’s crooning, you came apart in each other’s arms with a smile. The song started again and you couldn’t stop the giggles from bursting out of you, “What’s so funny, dove?” “You said you could make me like this terrible, horrible, awful song.” Sitting up and taking you with him, Loki chuckled as he kissed your hand, “Hey, don’t make fun of the best holiday song I have ever heard.” Pulling your new blanket around the both of you, “I still hate it, but-”

“But?”, his eyebrow arched in surprise, waiting for you to continue.

“But I don’t hate it as much.” Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, playfully ribbing you, “Do I have to force you into having another Wonderful Christmastime?” Biting your bottom lip, you returned the favor by sweeping a stray lock of Loki’s black hair over his shoulder, “Babe, you could make crazy, insane love to me each day and every night… and-” “And?” Kissing Loki lightly on the nose, you stood up on shaky legs and started towards the hallway. At the entry way you turned back letting the blanket fall to the floor, “-And Wonderful Christmastime would still suck.” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

To My Many Minxes: @toomanystoriessolittletime @vodka-and-some-sass @just-random-obsessions @brokenthelovely @lots-of-loki @thefallenbibliophilequote @scrumptious-finicky-illusion @iamverity @mizfit2 @sammy-jo1977 @wolfsmom1 @jessiejunebug @iluvsumbucky @unadulteratedwizardlove @procrastinatinglikeabitch @shxdowofdarkness @nonsensicalobsessions @ahintofkiwistrawberry @alexakeyloveloki @rorybutnotgilmore @crystalizedcaramel @lokislittlecorner @capcapcapsicle @jamielea81 @caffiend-queen @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore @jenjen8675309 @that-one-person @roguewraith

#stephschristmaswritingchallenge #loki x you #loki x reader #loki smut #loki holiday #loki christmas #loki christmas smut #marvel smut #marvel holiday #marvel holiday smut

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gameofdrarry · 3 years ago

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Wizards Hearts Recs: Holiday Fic

Wizards Hearts was a four-month-long Drarry reading fest. Players were given a playing deck of 52 tropes, and were asked to find 52 different fics to read and comment on to fill their decks. To prevent the same few fics from being read, fics were restricted to only being used for the game three times before being considered ineligible for further points. The tropes and submissions list can be found here.

Check out the masterlist of fics for this trope below the cut!

📜 East of Eden��by WriteSprite Rated: Explicit Words: 41,122 Tags: Explicit Sexual Content, Explicit Language, Parseltongue, Dirty Talk, Rimming, Biting, Drinking Games Summary: When Harry receives a dodgy brochure for an island vacation, he isn't sure he should attend. After a bit of a push, he decides to go for it and winds up spending the week in paradise. At least it would be, if it weren't for that pesky blond git. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Take My Hand by daisymondays Rated: Explicit Words: 12814 Tags: Summer, Summer Romance, Pining, Mutual Pining, Getting Together, First Kiss, Drinking Games, Harry Potter Has Dimples, Draco Malfoy Can't Cope, Fluff, Sharing a Bed, Auror Partners, Draco Has Feels To Spare, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Flirting, Friends to Lovers, Meddling Friends, Touching, Soooo Much Touching, HP: EWE Summary: Draco has long resigned himself to pining after Harry... that is until an invite on the annual Ministry holiday gives him a chance to change everything. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 December Never Felt So Wrong by MaesterChill Rated: Explicit Words: 50001 Tags: Post-Hogwarts, Angst, Mystery, time skip, 00's Music Sung Badly, Fluff, Amnesia, A niffler, 25 Days of Draco and Harry 2018, curse magic, Knitting, Sex, Cuddles, Blow Jobs, First Time Sex, wanking, Advent Fic, Christmas, Magical Artifacts, Falling In Love, Magical Theory, drarry dads, Rimming, Memory Loss, A tiny bell, Sharing a Bed, Dad Jokes, Cursed objects Summary: 'Twas the month before Christmas and sixteen year old Draco Malfoy had never felt worse. His attempts to kill Dumbledore were failing and, as usual, Harry Fucking Potter was a constant thorn in his side. All that suddenly changed when Draco woke up 15 years in the future and discovered that not only was he allegedly shagging Harry Fucking Potter, he also had thinning hair and a five year old son, and no fucking clue how he got there. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Tell Me the End at the Beginning by harryromper Rated: Teen and Up Words: 36591 Tags: Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Post-Hogwarts, St Mungo's Hospital, Healer Draco Malfoy, Auror Harry Potter, Auror Hermione Granger, Christmas, Christmas Tree, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Christmas Presents, Christmas Decorations, 25 Days of Harry and Draco, Food Hall Turkeys, Advent Calendar, Healer Luna Lovegood, Kreacher, Minor Neville Longbottom/Ginny Weasley, Yule Logs, Misheard Christmas carols Summary: St Mungo’s is the last place anyone wants to spend the festive season. Harry finds himself there anyway. Or: Harry's an Auror suspended from duty, Malfoy's wearing the hell out of three-piece suits, Hermione is entirely over everything, and Kreacher just wants to be left alone to decorate for Christmas. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Too Cold Outside (For Angels to Fly) by gracerene Rated: Explicit Words: 62688 Tags: Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Post-Second War with Voldemort, Post-Hogwarts, Creature Fic, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Veela Draco Malfoy, Veela (Harry Potter), Auror Partners, Auror Harry Potter, Auror Draco Malfoy, Aurors, Case Fic, Murder Mystery, Mild Gore, Advent Calendar, Christmas, Drinking, Scotland, United Kingdom, Muggle London, POV Alternating, Coffee Shops, Past Character Death, Past Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Minor Dean Thomas/Ginny Weasley, Crime Fighting, Duelling, Burns, Blood and Injury, Bars and Pubs, Getting Together, Romance, Light Angst, Happy Ending, Bisexual Harry Potter, Gay Draco Malfoy, Anal Sex, Riding, Shower Sex, Hand Jobs, 25 Days of Harry and Draco, 25 Days of Harry and Draco 2019, Switching, Wings, Wing Kink, Veela Mates, Mating Bond, Anal Fingering, Bonding, Dirty Talk Summary: The Auror Department and the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures are working to create a new division partnering human wizards and Magical Beings in order to more effectively police crime involving any and all classifications of Magical Creature. Auror Harry Potter jumps at the chance to join the pilot programme, but he starts to regret his rashness when he discovers who he's to be partnered with: Draco Malfoy. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 If the Fates Allow by Saras_Girl Rated: Mature Words: 80957 Tags: N/A Summary: What's that crackling in the walls? Harry has no clue at all. He'll eat some cake and drink some wine Because he is completely FINE. --A story about life's disregard for our plans. [2017 advent story] ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 A New Peace by MalenkayaCherepakha Rated: Explicit Words: 5566 Tags: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Semi-Public Sex Summary: Of all the people Draco expected to walk into his cafe in Muggle London, Harry Potter was not one of them. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 flashback, warm nights by warmfoothills Rated: Mature Words: 13068 Tags: Deathly Hallows AU, or more specifically, the godric’s hollow christmas shitshow of 1997, but with ron and draco!, and no snake-animated corpses!, instead:, Grand theft auto, a lot of blood, teenage fugitives, a time loop, Horcrux Hunting, one psychopathic quinquagenarian, Bodily Injuries, the ~power of love, Breaking and Entering, hospital food, questionable headwear, kissing in the backseat, kissing in the freezer aisle, Kissing in the Snow Summary: “What’s killing me is that I actually quite fucking like Christmas, festival-for-a-personally-irrelevant-religion-turned-commercialised-garbage-holiday though it may be, and now I’m stuck in the perpetual almost-there of it all with an idiot who gets himself cut up every time no matter how differently I try and do things!” “Killing you?” Potter asks. “I thought I was the one who’s about to get my torso sliced into?” ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 All Must Draw Near by Saras_Girl Rated: Mature Words: 61080 Tags: N/A Summary: Harry doesn't have time for rumours; he has a shop to run. Which is just as well, really. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 With A Little Help From Hermione by naarna Rated: Teen and Up Words: 6983 Tags: N/A Summary: Secret Santa at Hogwarts with every House participating in the name of unity... And Hermione suddenly finds herself in the position of a matchmaker. ❤️ Read on Fanfiction.net

📜 Faint Indirections by ignatiustrout Rated: Teen and Up Words: 29793 Tags: University, Wizarding World of the United States of America, Americans, Post-Second War with Voldemort, Librarian Harry Potter, Harry Potter Has a Pet Snake, Parselmouth Harry Potter, College Student Draco Malfoy, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Anxious Harry Potter, Baby Gay Draco Malfoy, Bisexual Harry Potter, Friendship, Family Dinners, Halloween parties, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Romance, Misunderstandings, Internalized Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, H/D Fan Fair 2019, Secondary Theme: Book Fair Summary: Draco Malfoy is the last person Harry expects to turn up in Boston, Massachussetts. But now he's here, and he won't stop requesting books from the library where Harry works. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 The 12 Dates of Draco by Drarryismymuse (Hatchersn) Rated: Explicit Words: 16808 Tags: 12 Days of Christmas, Light Angst, Christmas Smut, Anal Sex Summary: Holiday dialing, desperate attempts at reconciliation, and 12 blind dates with Draco Malfoy... oh my! OR The day Harry just can't seem to get past. But what is the universe trying to tell him? And when did Draco Malfoy get so bloody fit? He's got 12 days to figure it out. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Christmas Is For Sex (and Love), So Give It To Me by GoldenTruth813 Rated: Explicit Words: 53218 Tags: PWP, Established Relationship, Christmas, Bondage, misuse of frosting, making gingerbread houses, coming without touching, Blowjobs, Fingering, anal penetration, Rimming, misuse of fairy lights, Praise Kink, Nipple Clamps, erotic massages, Lingerie, Harry in Lingerie, Butt Plugs, Masterbation, Dirty Talk, Overstimulation, Topping from the Bottom, Ice Play, misuse of snowballs, misuse of brandy custard, veritasium, Public Sex, misuse of christmas candles, Wax Play, floating blow jobs, bubble baths, Candy Canes, misuse of candy canes, sex with feelings, Clubbing, naughty letters, babysitting teddy, Edging, healing past trauma, really so much more than sex, but lots of sex too, spiked hot cocoa, Drunk confessions, Anal penetration with a foreign object, french!draco, Switching Summary: Draco buys Harry an Advent House, intent on helping Harry create all new holiday memories, and have a lot of great sex in the process. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 As it Should Be by leo_draconis Rated: Mature Words: 5670 Tags: N/A Summary: It's Christmas Eve, and Draco's world has just shattered around him. Will a Christmas miracle give him a second chance? ❤️ Read on LJ

📜 Dream by the Fire by GallifreyisBurning Rated: Mature Words: 11431 Tags: Fluff, Christmas Fluff, Non-Explicit Sex, No Angst, seriously no angst whatsoever, Getting to Know Each Other, Getting Together, Coffee Shop Owner Harry Potter, Writer Draco Malfoy, Tattooed Draco Malfoy, Magical Tattoos, Memory Magic, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Wizarding History (Harry Potter), Friends to Lovers Summary: When Draco Malfoy resurfaces in England after eight years abroad—tattooed, pierced, and wanting to take over a corner of Harry's coffee shop to work on a writing project—Harry can't help but be intrigued. Where has he been? What is he working on? Why here? And why does he have to look so stupidly hot with all those tattoos? ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 The best Christmas he ever had by gnarf Rated: Teen And Up Words: 1965 Tags: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, Post-War, Fred Weasley Lives, Christmas at the Burrow (Harry Potter), Mutual Pining, Drinking, Dancing, Family Feels Summary: 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. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 The One Where Ginny Keeps a Secret, Sort of by Theartfulldodger Rated: Teen And Up Words: 4039 Tags: Fluff, Christmas, Established Relationship, Non-Linear Narrative, Group Vacation Summary: Harry is determined to have a good time with Ginny and Pansy for a trip to NYC over the winter holidays, even if Draco can't join them. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Adventures in Truth and Texting by fluxweed Rated: Explicit Words: 7981 Tags: Texting, Drunk Texting, Sexting, Veritaserum, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, Auror Harry Potter, Drinking, Christmas, Advent Fic, Awkwardness, everyone has phones, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE Summary: Former Death Eaters are being targeted with a Veritaserum curse – it’s permanent, and makes victims speak aloud their every thought. Luckily, it’s easier to control when writing – and Hermione is trying to introduce Muggle technology to the wizarding world. An advent fic featuring texting, identity struggles, and a Draco Malfoy who will literally not stop talking. ❤️ Read on AO3

#holiday #vacation #drarry #drarry rec #game of drarry #wizards hearts #wh masterlist

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ohana · 4 years ago

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When you looked me in the eyes, you finally made me recognize (Cobra Kai Secret Santa)

I'm probably ten thousand hours early because I'm on the wrong continent but still.

Here is my entry for the Cobra Kai Secret Santa hosted by @cobrakaisecretsanta (thank you thank you thank you) for @trashmouth-writes

The request from trashmouth-writes was "Definitely anything with pouty johnny with super lovey dovey Daniel" And it seemed nice to write something Christmas and a bit silly. I hope you like it (if you don't like it, please lie to me)

Summary

"Anyway, yes the advent calendar. I think it's a scam or a trap. Someone is trying to fuck with me."

"Giving you gifts?" When LaRusso's voice rises an octave he seems to be still sixteen.

"Johnny, have you ever thought that maybe someone is simply giving you gifts? Like to make you happy?"

In which Johnny starts to receive an advent calendar from a mysterious admirer.

Lawrusso, of course.

On AO3 too, here.

When you looked me in the eyes, you finally made me recognize

He remembers his first Christmas with Ali. The party, the people, Ali's red dress that she hated but her grandmother wanted her wear (she was beautiful and he hadn't even told her). His mother's laugh and how she kissed his cheek and said that they were such a beautiful couple. Sid saying "You are doing good, kid", maybe for the first time of their life together as family, and "Merry Christmas."

He doesn't remember Robby's first Christmas. He wasn't there. Shannon has sent him a Christmas card, a photo of her and Robby smiling together with some silly hats and "prick" scribbled over the big tree.

He wonders if Robby remembers the Christmas when he was there or it was too late.

He never thinks about the Christmas after the All Valley Tournament. He dreams about it sometimes. Kreese's hands on his neck, LaRusso's face disfigured with pain after Johnny hit him in the leg, the trophy, Bobby's phone calls that he kept not answering and all the "Johnny, open the door" of his mother, the Christmas eve at the beach alone.

It's not that he hates Christmas. He just doesn't care about it.

He doesn't buy chocolate. Damn most of the time he even forgets to buy real food, let alone chocolate (less often than in the past, to be honest. Maybe because Robby sleeps at his house a couple of nights a week, maybe because he's getting old and he can't live only drinking beers, maybe because LaRusso sends him stupid text from the supermarket reminding him to buy green stuff as if they were in a comedy from the 1950s). Anyway. He doesn't buy chocolate that is the main reason why now he's been sitting in his office at Cobra Kai in front of a bag of chocolates for half an hour without knowing what to do. He lifts them up, studies them a bit as if he suddenly could tell if they are poisoned. He googles them too, because now he's the kind of nerd who uses the internet. He writes "scams chocolates" but finds nothing.

He hears a key in the lock and footsteps.

"Diaz!"

Miguel overlooks at the door. His footsteps are still uncertain every now and then but in the last year he has made so much progress that if Johnny celebrated his thanksgiving day his first thank you would be for that kid.

"Yes, Sensei?"

Johnny points to the chocolates.

"Are these yours?"

Diaz looks puzzled. "Er ... no?"

"No, are you sure?" He says. Like a good teacher, like someone ready to listen to his students and not yell at them. "You can tell me."

Diaz looks even more puzzled. "Still no, sorry." He thinks for a second "Why should I have put some chocolates in your office?"

"What the fuck do I know? Why should I put them here?"

"Because it's your office?"

Johnny shrugs. "They're not mine."

Miguel walks over to him and checks the desk as if he were a fucking detective. "Was there nothing attached? No note? A receipt? Nothing?"

"Of course there was nothing attached, Mr. Diaz! I would have noticed it!" he says waving the bag that in that exact moment drops a small piece of paper. They both watch it as it gently flutters across the desk and if someone walks in at that moment and sees them he will immediately think they are father and son. Which is the truth even if it isn't.

"It's a one!" Miguel screams as if he has solved the mystery.

"I know dummy, I can read. Why is there a piece of paper with a one written on it?"

"Oh." He says, sadly "I don't know."

They stare at the chocolates and the paper for a few seconds.

Miguel takes the bag in his hand. "They look good, fancy. Not something you'll find at the store, mh?"

"How long is it until the next lesson, Diaz?" He asks him.

"At least half an hour."

"Do you want a chocolate?"

The next day in front of Cobra Kai's door there is a bottle of rum with a bow, a number two written on a card and a pretentious brochure explaining how to pair chocolate with rum. He looks around and when he doesn't see anyone that could reclaim it he takes it in his office and then at home. He doesn't have any chocolate left because the self restrain is not his best attribute but the rum tastes quite good anyway. He is freezing and it makes him feel warm.

He talks about it with LaRusso the next saturday. Until that day he received an Anthrax t-shirt and a pack of artisanal mini pizzas.

"Are you sure they're for you? Maybe someone got the wrong address and you're stealing some Christmas presents!" LaRusso suddenly comes alive and starts hopping like he always does when he's excited about something (it's not that he really hops, he just moves faster. Not that Johnny pays any attention to it. Because he doesn't.) "Maybe you're the Grinch of a family that lives near Cobra kai! "

"LaRusso the chocolates were inside my office, a bit too much for a wrong address don't you think?" and then "Who the fuck is the Grinch?"

From LaRusso's scandalized expression, this is not the right thing to say. What a surprise.

"Okay, no wrong addresses. Did you ask Robby? Maybe he ordered them on amazon?"

"Hey we don't do these things in our house, that dark web shit."

"What?!"

"Anyway, why are we here?" They are walking through home improvement stores. Near them only mothers with children, families, people who laugh and joke and talk and Johnny hates them all.

"You know why we are here. We are here because, as I wrote you, I have to buy a Christmas tree." (and I didn't want to go alone, he is about to say. But he doesn't say that. And I wanted to go with you, he thinks. But he doesn't say that either.)

"And you didn't go with Amanda ... why?"

"Because you don't go with your ex-wife to buy a Christmas tree for your new bachelor flat. We're not that civilized."

"I don't understand why you need a Christmas tree anyway." Daniel shows him a tree topper full of ribbons and ruffles and things that shouldn't be in any straight person's apartment. Or in general. "Put that thing down or am I going to have to kick you."

"Mh, and who knows how it would end ..." but he is smiling and there is a tone of complicity in his voice. "I don't want Sam and Anthony to come to my house for the holidays and see a bachelor loft, I want them to see a tree and some presents and decorations. They're already going through divorce and everything, I want at least my home to be normal, cozy." Then a sigh. "Besides, I like Christmas."

"Why? Christmas is just people who don't like each other together and presents that you'll not like."

Daniel bursts out laughing and throws a punch at him. Johnny tries to see nothing in that gesture, in that intimacy. "Oh my god, you really are the fucking Grinch, Johnny Lawrence. I just don't know. I just like it. Maybe because I'm a father and when they were little Christmas was the most magical time of the year for the kids. I don't know...I like waiting for presents, I like lights, I like people, I like the warmth."

"Pffff. If you say so."

"How about this?" LaRusso indicates a tree, not too big, not too naked(Johnny is convinced that in reality in LaRusso hates all the minimalist things he buys, all the apartments with dove gray walls and gray furniture and just pretend because c'mon, just think about how he dressed as a kid there is nothing beige in that man).

"Looks ok." He thinks about it for a moment. "Now do you also want me to help you find some mistletoe to hang around the house or are we finally ready to go?"

"Considering that the only person who walks through the door of my house, apart from my children, is you, should I take that as a suggestion?"

And Johnny nearly risks a head-on against a Christmas tree.

LaRusso is still laughing as they walk out of the shop with bags full of Christmas baubles.

(It wasn't a suggestion, of course. Why would he suggest something like that? They don't have that kind of relationship. There would be no reason to kiss under the mistletoe. Or kissing in general. Obviously. Fuck it. He doesn't think about anything else all night. Fuck it.)

In the end it's Hawk that explains everything.

Miguel and the other students are outside Cobra Kai sharing a couple of beers that Johnny is pretty sure they shouldn't drink but since he found them at the door fuck it. They are triple malt, from a microbrewery and the cap does not even unscrew but they don't really suck.

Hawk lifts one of the bottles, looks at the number on it and then as if it were the most natural thing in the world he asks. "Sensei, did you buy yourself a craft beer advent calendar?"

"Huh?" Says Johnny.

"An advent calendar."

"Huh?" Miguel asks.

"How is it possible that the boy with the Jewish grandparents has to explain to you what an advent calendar is?" And since they don't seem to understand, he continues. "On this bottle there is the number seven, today is December 7th. Were there another six bottles of beer?"

"No." Miguel replies sadly.

"No?"

"But there were six other gifts, each with a number attached to it." Johnny corrects him.

"One a day!" Adds Miguel.

"So it's an advent calendar. One surprise a day until Christmas."

Oh.

"Except if he didn't buy it himself, some chick must have bought it for him. Not bad for an old man, Sensei!"

The kids start speculating about who might have given it to him and looking at all possible advent calendars on their smartphones.

Johnny walks away as a high-pitched voice speaks of "Merry cheesemas". When he gets home he throws the remaining beers in the garbage and turns off the television when the usual Christmas movie appears.

"I think it's a trap" He says to LaRusso the next monday.

"What?" LaRusso looks lost. He is wearing a big scarf but his nose is still a bit red and he looks, Johnny would rather die than say it out loud, cute.

"The gifts with the numbers on it."

"The Advent Calendar?"

Why everyone knows what an advent calendar is?

Johnny nods.

"Is the advent calendar a trap?"

Now Johnny seems like an idiot. Which is not. Definitely.

"These ones?"

LaRusso shakes his head as Johnny points to some plant shears. He hands him an even bigger pair.

"These are more suitable for outdoor bonsai. They won't rust if you don't dry them well after disinfecting them. They are slightly more expensive but last a lifetime." His eyes sparkle when he talks about his stupid plants. Johnny hates him a little.

"A little more expensive?" He looks at the price tag. "I could buy him a real tree with the price, not these miniature trees that you short people like."

LaRusso snorts "But Robby doesn't want a tree for Christmas." He stops for a second lost in his thoughts "If they're too expensive I can contribute, I'd love to." And even if it costs him to admit it, Johnny knows that he is sincere in this. LaRusso is an asshole, a hothead, he believes himself better than others and he can never shut up but he is generous, he really likes to do things for others. Johnny hates him a little.

"Give them to me." He takes the scissors and puts them in the basket. "Anyway, yes the advent calendar. I think it's a scam or a trap. Someone is trying to fuck with me."

"Giving you gifts?" When LaRusso's voice rises an octave he seems to be still sixteen. "Why?"

"What the fuck do I know? Why do people do things? Maybe it's one of your mortal enemies who wants to screw me. Maybe it's Terry Silver."

"We're not talking about Terry Silver." It is true. But they talked about him. One evening in that confused space of time when everything was going to hell, in which while Johnny's life, the Cobra Kai and LaRusso's marriage were falling apart, they found a way of their own to communicate. They found their own dimension.

"Maybe someone you pissed off." He replies.

"Someone that I pissed off? And why would someone I pissed off try to screw you? By giving you gifts by the way? Besides, I think you piss off enough people on your own."

"Pfff. In any case, I threw everything in the garbage. Nobody can fool me like that."

They keep walking into the plant shop.

"Johnny, have you ever thought that maybe someone is simply giving you gifts? Like to make you happy?"

That night when he gets home he takes the panettone and the Zebra bootleg out of the garbage. They are both pretty good.

On Thursday in the advent calendar, he gave up and decided to call it that, he found a small radio. It's the miniature version, with a USB port (Miguel tells him), of the Ali's one that he broke on the beach. Even the songs included are the same ones he listened to at that time. That evening when a Christmas movie is being shown on television, he waits ten minutes before changing the channel.

"I think it's Ali." He tells LaRusso when they meet up the next day for a couple of beers and some Chinese food (for Johnny, LaRusso insists on eating that awful raw fish that costs more than cooked fish and tastes like sea).

"What?"

"I think Ali made the advent calendar for me." and then because LaRusso doesn't seem to understand he tells him about the Zebra bootleg, about how most of the surprises seem to come from someone who knows him well and obviously about the radio like the one Ali had.

LaRusso doesn't seem so sure. He stretches on the sofa, where they sat to watch The Grinch because according to Daniel it was not acceptable that Johnny had never seen him, and ventures "Johnny are you talking to Ali lately?"

"Not a word for thirty-something years."

"Then why should she send you an advent calendar? She doesn't even live in the same city as us."

Johnny sighs like he's dealing with an idiot. Which is fair. "Women can never forget someone like me."

"She left you! She hated you!" and then with his annoying voice "Oh don't get distracted this scene is particularly funny!" (it isn't)

Johnny ignores him. "She probably wanted to apologize to me in some way with that radio."

"But it was you who broke it!" and then in a low voice convinced that Johnny can't hear him "My God this guy is really an asshole."

"Hey, there's nothing wrong with being a little jealous. The fact that she didn't send you an advent calendar doesn't mean Ali didn't care about you, she just can't forget me. Try this guy once..."

Daniel throws candy canes in his face.

"Hey ... do you want to stay over?" LaRusso asks him when the film ends. "It's quite late and I don't know how much you've been drinking."

It's not particularly late and Johnny hasn't drunk more than on a normal day of the week. LaRusso's sofa bed isn't even particularly comfortable, even though the sheets always smell good and the pancakes he makes don't really suck (and he's even stopped insisting that Johnny try some kind of tea that tastes like pureed grass). There are Christmas on the front door, which he hates. He really has no reason to stay.

Johnny fakes a yawn. He stays.

The next morning he writes a message to Ali to thank her for the advent calendar on facebook.

He writes to LaRusso "To be honest the Grinch never hated the Christmas, he hated the people, which is fair."

Ali replies "Johnny, what are you talking about? Why should I give you a gift?"

LaRusso replies "You are such an ass. Do you want to help me decorate the tree tonight? "

"Of course I don't want it. Why? Are you too short to put the baubles on it?" He texts back.

"I have beers and we can try the new pizzeria around the corner."

He replies ""Okay but if you're going to put on that ridiculous sweater with the deer and the lights again, I'll have to fight you to get it off."

"It's a reindeer not a deer, for God's sake. And you have a funny way to try to undress your dates, Lawrence."

It's a joke of course. A lame one. It's not that he really wants to see LaRusso naked. Or that LaRusso is his date. (fuck fuck fuck)

He helps LaRusso with the Christmas tree. He doesn't even hate too much.

He doesn't text back to Ali.

After three more days of surprises in the advent calendar, he confronts Carmen.

She listens to him without saying a word but then her doubtful expression melts into a smile. It's a smile that Carmen reserves only for him and in which Johnny initially saw a lot of potential. He saw going out, a lot of sex, even a little romance. Now that the months have passed, including those in which Carmen didn't even speak to him at all, he has learned to see what is really behind that smile, that sweetness: family. They will never be in love but they will always be a family in some way.

"Johnny, my love these days I don't even have time to breathe at work, let alone prepare an advent calendar for someone." And then "Have you ever thought that there is someone else besides us who wants to make you happy?"

Johnny grumbles, replies by making silly allusions to some girl he's met and stuff like that. In front of Carmen's door, he finds himself thinking for the first time in months about his mother, about the way she always took care of him.

Carmen continues talking. "I heard that Robby will probably spend Christmas with his mom. We won't be home celebrating... Do you have someone to spend Christmas with? Otherwise we can try to organize something, I'm sure Miggy would like it."

Johnny thinks of the billionth text that LaRusso sent him to remind him to pack the gift for Robby.

"I'm okay." He replies.

The next day he finds an Atari console with Popeye on it in the advent calendar and it's a trip down memory lane. He liked video games when he was a kid, when he wasn't the popular guy at school yet. He liked listening to music, playing video games and forgetting Sid's remarks, the absence of a father, the lack of friends. Before, in a world where there was no karate, Kreese and Cobra Kai to get lost in. He had almost forgotten about those years, about that Johnny. He wonders what would happen to his life if he stayed that Johnny. Would Ali have stayed? (Or even more than that: would Ali notice and date someone like that Johnny?) Would the friends of the Cobra Kai want him? Would he have been a failure as a father? Would he and Daniel become friends? (he imagines: making lesson with Mr. Miyagi, play video games together, teach him to surf and stay to chill on the beach, listening some music with only one walkman, close, with legs touching)

When on December 18th he finds a portable mini golf (like the ones you see in B-movies, in the offices of successful managers) he invites LaRusso to his apartment to play with it only because he is unable to play something without turning it into a competition , in a fight. Not because he likes to see him. Daniel goes all "Oh" and "Thanks" when he sees that Johnny has put in the fridge all he needs for a martini cocktail and opens his giant brown doe eyes and Johnny doesn't know whether to feel like a shitty person or a fifteen year old on a first date. The only thing he's sure of is that he doesn't know what to do with these feelings. If he could he would kick them, fight them back to their corner because he's not sure he knows how to ignore them now that they're out. He is so angry. With himself, with LaRusso, with that stupid advent calendar and with Christmas too.

He kicks LaRusso's butt at portable mini golf and when it starts getting late he yawns and says he'll have to get up early the next day for some commitments. He doesn't offer LaRusso another drink, he doesn't ask him if he's too tired to stay. He falls asleep on the couch alone.

He goes out two nights in a row. At the bar a woman flirts with him. She is a hot babe, the kind of woman who might not listen to what she says (and who wouldn't listen to what Johnny says) but whose boobs he would surely remember. The kind of woman to have a drink and have a fuck with without either of them looking for more. It would be so easy, he thinks.

Miguel asks "Are you not going out with Mr.LaRusso tonight?" as if he was used to doing it every Sunday, after Daniel saw his kids.

In the advent calendar he finds a small cobra (a fake one, not a real cobra because it would be scary and...deadly probably) with a headband. Seeing the band on the cobra's head doesn't make him think of Ali for the first time in thirty-five years.

Daniel texts him. "Are you all right? Have you become the Grinch?"

He doesn't reply.

On the phone, a delivery boy asks for confirmation of the address to deliver the shopping for Christmas dinner with Robby. Dinner he obviously wouldn't have ordered had it been for him.

Daniel texts him "Remember to take the food out of the fridge two hours before the dinner."

He doesn't reply.

Daniel texts him. "Asshole." (Is he? Probably. Maybe he should have texted him "coward" it suited him more.)

Strike first strike first strike first.

The thing is: Johnny isn't an idiot. Of course he is an idiot in some way, but it's not really the point. He knows with every fiber of his body that this is probably the closest thing he will get to a relationship. Even to be in love. The problem is that everything Johnny knows about love is what he lived in a two-year relationship with a girl, with which he didn't even get along very well, when he was sixteen. After that nothing, he got stuck.

And then he doesn't know what to do with these feelings, he doesn't know how to match his idea of love (that of a sixteen year old with too many hormones, always too angry and so lost) with this sense of intimacy, with this warmth. He doesn't know how to explain to the sixteen year old Johnny who came home angry and wanted to kick LaRusso's butt who maybe, maybe they could be in love with that ridiculous man in the deer sweaters who drives them crazy, makes them question all the choices of their lives and reminds them to buy tree scissors for their son and looks at them with those giant doe eyes that make their knees tremble.

Not to mention the tiny detail that that love may very well not be reciprocated because LaRusso is an idiot.

It would be so easy to strike first. Buy that girl a drink in the pub, turn off the phone, have a good fuck. It would be so easy.

Robby says "Thanks dad, they are great" when he opens the scissors. Robby chews his food and says "It tastes amazing, a lot better than when you try to cook!" And then smiles, like a kid, like a young man ready to conquer the world, to open up to the world and not as a boy with whom his parents have failed many times, who has months of juvie behind him and a lot of therapy sessions to deal with. Johnny looks at him and he's so happy and he feels so bad that he doesn't deserve it that he just wants to punch something. Or drink too many beers and fall into a coma.

"Are you okay, dad?" Robby asks.

It would be so easy.

"Have you ever thought that there is someone who wants to make you happy?"

Tomorrow is Christmas Eve.

("Asshole")

LaRusso is still in his pajamas pants when he opens the door. Since he and Amanda got divorced he has let his hair grow slightly and now they are all messed up on his head and he looks silly.

"I expected you were already dressed to go to work." Says to him.

LaRusso yawns and snorts. "I expected you to respond to my messages." but then adds with a note of concern in his voice "Are you okay? Did something happen with Robby?"

Johnny waves in front of him the replica of the All Valley tournament trophy, still partially wrapped, with the number 24 sticking out among the paper.

He reads aloud "World's second best sensei. You are such an arrogant prick."

LaRusso stares at him with a smug look and says "Well it takes one to know one." and "I was referring to Mr. Miyagi, dumbass."

And now he's an asshole.

LaRusso bursts out laughing and Johnny seriously wants to beat him.

"" You ... You are impossible! You are so annoying and you do things like this and I can't stand you! ".

Daniel raises an eye brown. "It looks like you can, instead."

"And you can never shut up, you are unbearable! You get under my skin like some fungus! Nobody makes me feel like that."

Because it is true. He's not sure if he likes it but no one will ever make him feel that way. Nobody before, nobody after. In Johnny's life there will always be a before and after Daniel LaRusso. Not that he'll ever tell that prick who already thinks he's better than everyone else and definitely doesn't need someone to pump his ego even more.

"Hey, hasn't anyone ever taught you just to say thank you when someone gives you a gift?"

"No one has ever taught me a lot of things." And he thinks of Kreese.

LaRusso takes a step in his direction by invading his space and takes his hands (which are still holding the trophy so in reality the scene is more awkward than romantic).

"Yet you have learned so much anyway." He smiles at him, with a smile different from the one of the commercials, more open, more sincere. "And you're teaching a lot of right things to your students too. Under all that No Mercy bullshit you're teaching them a lot. It wasn't a joke, the trophy. I mean it."

Johnny thinks she could almost kiss him. Then he remembers one thing.

"How did you know about the Atari console? I didn't even know you when I was playing video games."

Daniel lights up, like a magician ready to reveal a trick to his audience. "That? Robby told me. Apparently you told him once when you were drunk and sad. He also told me which bootleg you were missing and helped me get some packages. I could have asked Miguel probably but Sam says he can't keep a secret to save his life and I didn't want to risk him revealing my identity. Of course I couldn't think you thought of Ali first than me. He laughs, his eyes shine. "Anyway I could have asked a lot of people. You may not know but there are a lot of people who care about you and would like to make you happy. When you are not busy being an asshole or pushing others away because you are scared it's very easy to care for you, Johnny Lawrence. "

"Have you ever thought that there is someone who wants to make you happy?"

Johnny pins him against the front door and kisses him and for a moment LaRusso freezes and doesn't reciprocate and Johnny thinks he shall punch him because there is no possibility that he has misread this situation. Then Daniel melts into the kiss and kisses him back and it's the opposite of what he imagined when he was sixteen. It's not a battle, it's meeting halfway. It's not a fight, it's peace, it's like coming home and finding a new home at the same time.

Daniel starts laughing in the kiss and Johnny is forced to pull back slightly before he can suffocate and die which wouldn't be a very bright way to start this phase of his life.

"What now?"

LaRusso smiles as if he has discovered some secret and murmurs on his neck "You didn't need the mistletoe at the end."

Johnny sighs because he is an idiot and then kisses him again. He feels giddy, happy.

Daniel budges away from him, without breaking the embrace.

"You know, under these pajamas pants I have some Christmas boxers with a reindeer." He raises an eyebrow "I'm telling you because maybe, maybe you still want to fight me to make me take them off like you did with the sweater."

"Has this atrocious line ever worked with anyone?"

"I don't know, is it working?"

Johnny opens the door "Let's go inside."

#cksecretsanta2020 #lawrusso #cobra kai #daniel larusso #johnny lawrence #cobra kai secret santa

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folkloreguk · 5 years ago

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❄️December 7th (part1)

A/N: Today’s scenario is actually a kind of continuation from the two last scenarios I wrote for 2017′s advent calendar (so the 19th and 21st)! I tried to write it in a way, so you wouldn’t necesssarily need to read the other two parts first, although (shameless self promo) I love those two scenarios a lot, and I barely ever say that about my writing rip (you’d find them on my masterlist)

words: 1.8k

genre: comedy? / smut in the second part I’ll post on the 9th), optional bias (male), enemies to lovers

Sorry that this stops so abruptly, this is part 1, I’ll post the rest on the 9th of December!

A week had passed since the Christmas party at your job. When you had gotten into a fight with your arch enemy over some Christmas lights and then over organizing the party together. One week, since you had hooked up with him.

And you couldn't say things had changed positively afterwards. You still bickered and fought over your boss' attention and neither of you had reduced the ridiculous amount of Christmas lights outside your houses, which stood opposite of each other. Long story short, you hadn't magically fallen in love with him, like your friend had expected you to be after you had told her what had happened.

But you could say things had changed... slightly. Additionally to the bickering, you now also flirted with each other, in the most subtle way possible. Neither of you would risk being obnoxiously flirty at your loved workplace. You seemed to still hate each other, but to be a lot more attracted to each other simultaneously. And to say it confused you would be an understatement.

He winked at you from across the room, making it hard for you to not flash him your middle finger, while you liked to remind him of the dress you wore a week ago, by setting a photo from the party as his computer's background when he wasn't looking. Although you needed to admit your plan backfired, since he didn't just give you a dirty look, but was also praised by your boss for having planned and enjoyed the party so much. You made a throwing-up expression at him when you saw his holy smile.

You went home that day, exhausted from too much H/N - interaction, as most days. At least you were happy with the work you had done that day, you told yourself, trying to get him off your mind, as most days. You were ready to have a calm evening, watching a Christmas movie and eating some of your favorite snacks.

You had already taken a shower and changed into your comfortable clothes, when you walked down the stairs and into the kitchen. You couldn't believe your eyes when you looked out the window.

Your massive glowing snowman was there in your front yard, practically staring down H/N's much smaller one. But that wasn't what was so unusual. On the steps to his house, H/N sat. One of his hands was buried in his coat's pocket while the other was holding a phone up to his ear. By reading his expression, you could tell he wasn't happy.

His cheeks and nose were red and the way he his shoulders were pulled up made it clear that he must had been freezing.

As much as you hated to admit it, you felt sorry for him. You weren’t sure what was going on, but he clearly couldn’t go inside his house. Who would sit outside in this temperature, voluntarily? If he needed me to help him, he could just come and ring my doorbell, you thought. But the second you had finished the thought, you knew he would never admit to needing your help.

So, you grabbed your coat and headed out the door. In your pajama pants, you crossed the street and found him still sitting on his front porch.

“What do you want now?” he asked, clearly angry at someone and letting it out on you.

“I wanted to make sure you’re not freezing to death out here, if that’s okay with you,” you snapped back. His expression softened slightly.

“I locked myself out and my parents who have a second key only come back into town tomorrow,” he said. “And I refuse to pay an insane amount of money for someone to come and open my door. So now I’ve been calling people to let me stay the night and for some reason no one seems to be at home or have enough space.”

“Okay, I feel you on that part with the money,” you said, and he gave you another annoyed look. “But you know me, and you haven’t tried me yet.”

“You’re not exactly my first choice for a sleepover,” he stated.

“Looks like I’m your only choice,” you replied. His hands were red from the icy temperatures when he pulled them out of his pockets. “Listen. I’m getting cold, so I’m going back inside. If you want to stay at mine, come with me. If you want to wait until your body has turned into an ice cube, that’s fine with me too.”

It only took a few seconds until you heard his footsteps on the pavement behind you. At first, you thought this would be awkward. But he managed to displace that emotion for annoyance in a heartbeat.

“Home sweet home,” he sang, walking into your house like he owned the place. You couldn’t believe he was about to keep you from having a peaceful December evening, but there you were, walking him into the living room.

“Not to sound like a douchebag, but do you have any food at home?” he asked, while he sat down on your couch and put his feet up.

“First of all, get your feet off my favorite pillow,” you said. This guy was unbelievable. “Secondly, I was about to make popcorn.”

You shot him another death glare as you walked off to the kitchen. You just about trusted him enough to leave him alone for five minutes. When you returned with two bowls of popcorn (absolutely not would you risk the awkward hands-touching-as-you-both-reach-for-the-popcorn-incident), he hadn’t moved a centimeter.

"I see you have a heart after all," he stated, as you gave him the bowl.

"Do you want me to throw you out again?" you asked. "Because that's what it seems like."

"I'm joking," he responded. "You know I always am."

"Is that a confession?" you teased.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he went on. “I thought we were good since our little pre-Christmas-party get together.”

He was giving you a look from across the room, since you had chosen to sit on the other end of the sofa. You knew he was just playing with you, and you refused to go with it. Although knowing he was thinking about sex right now only made you think of it too. You remember how well his body was built, and how his hands had touched you, in ways you had never imagined he ever would. But then you snapped out of it.

“We’re watching Home Alone,” you said, getting up to set up the movie.

“Oh, come on,” he began to complain, which only made you more upset.

“My house, my rules,” you said. “Besides, if you don’t know what’s good, I’m sorry for you.”

He seemed sulky for a moment. “Do you at least have a blanket, so I will find this remotely bearable?”

At this comment you could only laugh. Sitting down, you clicked ‘play’ and grabbed a blanket from next to you. Swiftly, you rolled it up into a ball and threw it – at full speed – at him. He half caught it and got half hit, letting out a sound that sounded almost like a genuine laugh.

“Are you trying to start something here?” he asked.

“I’m sorry, I can’t hear you over how good this movie is,” you replied. He only shook his head, directing his eyes to the screen.

And oh how much you would be able to tease him when this was over. Whenever you glanced at him from the side, one thing was crystal clear to you. He was having the time of his life. At first, you thought it was weird to laugh at the same time as him. It felt almost intimate – more intimate than hooking up with him – and you stopped yourself from laughing. But as the movie went on, you gradually stopped caring. You realized you had known him for what felt like forever, but had never really heard him laugh like you did now. And you had to admit, his genuine laugh wasn’t half as annoying as his fake laugh you constantly heard at work.

When the end credits started to roll, you didn’t know what to do next. So, to stall time and figure out what to say, you decided to grab your popcorn bowl and make your way to the kitchen. Suddenly, you heard his voice behind you, as he followed you.

“Before you say anything, I would like to remind you that I haven’t seen Home Alone in years and forgot how funny it was.”

“That’s a weak excuse but I’ll accept it,” you said, setting your bowl down on the counter. He had kind of messed up his hair, and his clothes looked wrinkled, but you couldn’t say he didn’t look handsome.

“How nice of you,” he mocked, but gave you a grin. “I hate that thing.”

You let out a laugh when you saw him staring at the ten-foot snowman outside the window.

“I’m sure it hates you too,” you joked, only making him roll his eyes. You watched as he ran his fingers through his hair, and inwardly cursed yourself at how you admired his hands. Stop being so thirsty, you told yourself. For a moment, neither of you spoke, but then you looked at him and let out an involuntary laugh.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing,” you said. “I just thought about how I never seem to be able to get away from you.”

“It’s not like I locked myself out on purpose,” he stated. “Oh, and speaking of you not getting away from me. I told our boss we would love to plan the Christmas party again next year.”

“We?” you couldn’t believe your ears. You took a sip of water from a glass you had poured yourself. “So, there’s a we now?”

“Sweetheart there was a we ever since we figured out we disliked each other,” he spoke. You almost choked on the water. In response, he said nothing, letting you take in his words, only making it worse. If he hadn’t already brought up the hook-up earlier, you surely wouldn’t have said what you were about to say.

“Do you ever think about the Christmas party?” you asked.

“About the lovely conversations I had and the amazing food there? All the time,” he said, like he was completely serious. You could have snapped at him, but he unfortunately looked so hot that your head decided it had other plans.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” you spoke, setting down your glass and taking a step towards him. “And judging by how much you flirted with me in the past week, I’m going to assume your answer is yes.”

By now, your head was dangerously close to his. If he hadn’t wanted this, now would have been the time he would have stopped you. But he didn’t. Of course not.

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cranberrymoons · 1 year ago

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checking it twice

prompt: open mic night (@steddieholidaydrabbles) rating: t word count: 666 words 😱 tags: coffee shop au, modern setting, established relationship

hi friends! i've been hard at work on what i've been affectionately thinking of as a fic advent calendar – bite-sized fics posting every day during the month of december. enjoy!

---

Steve feels his cheeks go pink and start to thaw out as he steps from the chill of outside into the warmth of the shop, ice crystals melting in his hair and making it go damp, wilting a little where it falls into his eyes. He pulls his gloves off and shoves them in his pockets, shaking his hands out to warm them.

Max looks up from her phone at her usual place behind the register, curled up on a stool with a knee pulled to her chest. When she catches sight of him, she rolls her eyes, tilting her head back to shout in the general direction of the kitchen,

“Hey asshole. Your little friend’s here.”

Steve resists the urge to laugh as he takes a step toward the counter.

“You know, I don’t think you really know who you’re messing with,” he tells her. “I’m actually very scary and intimidating.”

She raises her eyebrows. “That so?”

Steve nods. He shrugs out of his coat and drapes it over his arm. She squints at him, and he matches her stare.

“Ask anyone,” he says. “You want a mean girl, I’m your guy.”

She watches him for a moment, then snorts as she lets her feet drop to the floor. She pockets her phone and starts in the direction of the back room.

“I’ll let him know you’re here,” she says over her shoulder without looking back.

From her, that’s practically a hug and a kiss on the cheek, and Steve smiles to himself, tucking his nose down into the high collar of his sweater as he takes a look around the room, bustling and busy as they get set up for the week’s open mic.

Eddie emerges a moment later, hair a little frizzed out from the heat of the kitchen, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, cheeks flushed and happy. Steve feels the smile on his face growing warmer as their eyes catch, and he tries to ignore the flurry of butterflies that kick up in his stomach.

“Hi,” he says, and – fuck. It’s only been a couple months, hasn’t it? How is he already –

“Hey,” Eddie says. His smile matches Steve’s as he comes around the counter, slinging a dish towel over his shoulder as he goes. He catches Steve around the waist. “You look nice tonight.”

Steve laughs. “Thanks,” he says, feeling the flush creep up his cheeks. “I worked from home today, so –”

“No monkey suit,” Eddie says. his eyes widen teasingly. “No buttoned up suit and tie.”

Steve smiles. “Something like that.”

“Good,” he says. “I like you a little casual.”

“I know.” He tilts his head to the side, letting Eddie tug him forward into a kiss. “You like me every way though.”

Eddie hums. “We’ll see.”

“Oh yeah?”

And Eddie nods, swaying him back and forth to the rhythm of the music playing in the background.

“What if you showed up in a clown suit?” he asks very seriously. “I’m not sure I’d be so into that.”

Steve lets out a little laugh. “Now I feel like I have to go get a clown suit just to test the theory.”

“Listen,” Eddie says. He holds up his hands. “I’m up to try anything once. If anyone could make it work, it would be you.”

And that definitely makes Steve flush, which is just – he can’t believe he’s blushing over Eddie telling him he’d look good in a clown suit…? What is that even –

“You ready for open mic?” Eddie asks, raising his eyebrows. He gives a little shimmy. “Going to surprise us all with your acoustic skills?”

Steve snorts. “Yeah, Drops of Jupiter,” he says. “Really wowed my college girlfriend.”

Eddie’s eyes flash. “Can’t tell if you’re joking or not. Kind of hot either way.”

“Hotter than a clown costume?” Steve asks, raising his eyebrows.

Eddie laughs, face breaking into a ridiculous grin.

“Guess we’ll just have to try out both and see.”

[also on ao3]

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddieholidaydrabbles #my fic

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thefandomsinhalor · 5 years ago

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The Lucky Pairs of Christmas Underwear

An Advent Calendar fic by thefandomsinhalor

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Gabriel/Sam Winchester

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Rating: Not Rated (it is rated as such until I finish the fic, right now it’s leaning on Mature.)

Summary: Due to heavy workloads and conflicting schedules, Sam and Dean, living in different cities, are both disappointed when it appears that they won't be able to spend the holidays together—something they had always managed to do in the past.

This turn of events, however, offers them both the opportunity to seek someone else to share their respective holidays with, and when Dean's last year crush is paired up with him at the Gift Wrapping booth, and Sam keeps running into a charming new acquaintance, by helping each other, the brothers feel hopeful that Christmas time might not be ruined after all.

Read on AO3

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Chapter One: A Holly Jolly Time

“Dean? Hello? Did you—are you still there?”

Sitting on a very uncomfortable chair at an overpriced café, for someone of his limited means anyway, Dean swallowed hard. Still holding the phone to his ear, he lowered his eyes as he felt his heart growing heavy at the news he had just heard.

“Dean?” repeated Sam at the other end of the line.

“Yeah. Still here. Sorry. Just—I didn’t expect that.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I feel awful. It’s just—work is crazy.”

“It’s okay, Sammy. I get it. Hell, I’m in the same situation. If not worse.”

“And this is why I’m really sorry. I had agreed to be the one to—”

“Sam, stop.” He cleared his throat. “I—it sucks, but like I said, I get it. We’ve been lucky so far, but I guess that this year…” he let out a deep sigh. He couldn’t even finish the sentence.

“I promise I’ll do my best to change it, but right now, um, it doesn’t seem like I’ll be able to join you for Christmas,” Sam said in a desolate voice.

Dean nodded blankly. “Any other good news?”

Sam let out a deep sigh in turn.

“I—I just, Dean, I hate the idea that you’ll be alone for Christmas.”

“Me? I’ll be fine, Sam. What about you? What are you going to do?”

“I’ll be okay too. I’ll be at work.”

Dean lowered his phone and shook his head for a moment, and then he brought his phone back to his ear. “That’s what I mean, Sam. You, not being able to make it here because of work, deadlines and travelling schedule, that’s one thing. But to actually work on Christmas? I mean, I’m not even doing that and all I do is work.”

“I don’t have a choice. And honestly, it’s just, you know, one day. For a few hours. Which is really annoying when said like this, but...Work will be a nice distraction. And we can still talk. And skype for the rest of the day if you want. It’s ridiculous, but we can do it. I was almost going to suggest that we postpone Christmas and meet up soon after, but….”

“Nah. I mean, even if I knew for a fact that we could do something in the following week, I feel like we would have missed it. It would still be cool, but you know.”

“That’s what I thought too,” agreed Sam. “But we should do something for New Year’s Eve. I’m definitely working on that.”

“All right. Work will still be nuts on my end, but it should have diminished a bit by then. Or maybe I could make it to your end this time.”

“Dean, no. I—unless you let me help you out with money—”

“No,” blurted out Dean.

“—but I know you won’t agree to it,” said Sam, sighing.

Biting his bottom lip, Dean pondered on Sam’s suggestion. “I’m not saying yes, but I’ll think about it,” he brought himself to say.

“You will?”

“Just because I haven’t seen your freaking face for far too long now. But still. Not a definite yes.”

“But you’ll consider it?”

“Yeah. But it’s still too early in the month to have a clue of what the situation’s going to be at that point. So, I’ll leave it to that for now.”

“All right. That’s great,” said Sam.

Dean could hear how happy Sam was at the idea, so he decided that he should make an effort to make it happen.

“And Dean, even if for whatever reason that doesn’t work out either, I promise I’ll visit you soon, okay?”

“All right, Sammy. But don’t worry. I’m—it’s disappointing, but I know you tried. It will be okay.”

“Thanks Dean. I—thanks for understanding.” There was a long pause, and then Sam asked, “So, besides that? Anything new?”

Welcoming the change to a less depressing topic, Dean said, “Not really.”

“What about work? Is the holiday frenzy rising?”

A slightly less depressing topic.

“The frenzy is settling in, all right,” he sighed.

“Is the music driving you nuts already?”

“It’s been driving me nuts for the last two weeks. I was actually freaking humming Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer yesterday and I didn’t even notice it. I only did when a customer mentioned it.”

Sam let out a laugh. “Sorry. A few more weeks and it will be all over. And it’s better than last year, right? Since you’re at the Chocolaterie this time. I thought you said it was a bit more shielded than the rest of the store now that they moved its location this year.”

“Yeah, well that was the plan, but not anymore.” Dean leaned back into his seat.

“What? I—what do you mean?”

“I was about to tell you earlier. I was transferred a couple days ago to another department. Sort of.”

“No! What? But why?”

Dean cleared his throat. “It just needed to be done.”

“Why? Dean, what does that mean?” asked Sam, nearly aggravated as though he already knew the answer.

Dean debated for a moment whether or not he should share the specifics with his brother, knowing that Sam would most undoubtedly be worried and annoyed at him.

Nor would he be shy to express his views about it.

And Dean had worked really hard to avoid this particular lecture.

But since Sam had been honest about his work situation, he concluded that he owed him the same courtesy.

So, Dean replied, “Because another position opened up at the last minute and it offered more hours. I gave my name and here we are.”

“Dean,” groaned Sam.

I knew I shouldn’t have said anything.

“It’s all right, Sam.”

“Is it? How many hours are we talking about now?”

Silence.

“Dean?”

“Twenty hours.”

Sam swore loudly. “On top of your full time job at the garage? And the gig that Jo got you with Pam?”

“I was hoping you forgot about that…”

“I didn’t. Dean, this is nuts. How are you even able to pull this off?”

Dean crossed one arm over his chest, lowering his eyes.

“Bobby is helping me out. I’m solid during the day at the garage throughout the week, so I can have my nights and the weekends to do the rest.”

“That’s not what I meant. Do you even have a day off? A night off?”

“You’re one to talk, Sam. And it’s just for December. Everything will be back to normal after that.”

“December starts tomorrow and it’s already insane. And answer the question.”

Dean sighed. “I work at the store on Wednesday, Thursday and Friday nights. And in the afternoon during the weekend. And then Saturday nights, I wait at Pam’s events, which is really not a big deal. I did it this summer. It’s good money.”

“You did it once, Dean. One wedding. Not four in a row on top of—”

“No weddings this time. Pam said it will be Christmas parties for companies. The first one is tonight. It’s gonna be fine.”

“That leaves you with what, though? For free time?”

“I still have my evenings Sunday through Tuesday.”

“If you’re not pulling extra hours at the garage, you mean? Which I’m guessing you’re already doing in the mornings during the weekends? Am I right?”

“Sam,” warned Dean.

Sam remained silent for a good minute, until he said, “Dean, I’m worried.”

“Don’t be. It’s all going to go in the piggy bank so I’ll be able to catch my breath during the harsh winter,” he joked.

Sam let out a deep sigh. “And what about the new position at the store? Shit, Dean. I—I know you were really happy about—you were actually looking forward to the Chocolaterie. Now, I feel even worse about not being able to go.”

“It’s not your fault. And anyway, it’s just a job for the holidays. No matter what it is, we both know the novelty would have worn off eventually.”

“Okay, hold on here. Because we both know the real reason you wanted to work in that department. And it had absolutely nothing to do with the job in question…”

Dean pursed his lips, lifting his head to look at the ceiling, annoyed.

“Ugh. Not this again, Sam. I told you, it was…it’s not important.”

“Bull. You’ve been whining about this guy for, like, literally a freaking year now. A year.”

“Well, whatever,” urged Dean. “Doesn’t change anything now as he’s not even here.”

“But you said that last year he hadn’t shown up until a week or so before Christmas.”

“I said I only noticed him at the end of the season. Nuance.”

“But you also said they had added employees as Christmas approached. So maybe he was one of them. And he will be this year too.”

Dean let out a sigh. “I don’t know, Sam. All I can do is wait and see.” And after a short pause, he added in an urgent manner, “If I cared. Which, I don’t. Not really.”

Sam snorted. “Right.”

“What about you, huh? Made any headway with your office crush?”

“I—there’s been progress.”

“Yeah? Asked her out yet?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

At the sound of Sam clearing his throat, Dean shook his head.

“Did you or did you not ask her out, Sam?”

“I…okay, I haven’t yet, but—”

“God, Sam,” said Dean, cutting him off. “What are you waiting for?”

“If you would let me finish, I was going to say I’m going to. I’m just waiting for the right opportunity.”

“And when’s that? On your wedding day?”

Sam huffed. “I’ll get to it. The timing and the setting have to be right.”

Dean was not impressed by this statement.

“Don’t wait too long.”

“I won’t.”

Not wanting to push it too far, Dean asked, “Got anything else planned for today?

“Not sure. Kevin texted me. He and some of his friends are going out tonight. He told me the address of the bar. He said he invited Bela too…”

“Perfect! You can make your move then. You’re going, right?”

“I don’t know. I have so much work to do.”

“Sam, I swear if you don’t go, I will somehow teleport to Chicago and drag you there myself.”

“Dean, this isn’t really my scene.”

“That’s precisely why you should go. Live a little. And if Bela’s there, she gets to see you somewhere else than at the office. A different setting, like you’ve been waiting for. And if she’s not there, you still get to have fun.”

“But hitting on her at a bar? Like, that’s just—that’s not really how I had pictured it.”

“Sam, maybe start by finding out if she’s interested? And when you know that she is, feel free to execute whatever fantasy of courtship you had planned out,” he said with a grin on his face. “At least, go to the damn bar and enjoy yourself, huh?”

“In which department are you working at The Milton’s now?” asked Sam.

“Changing the subject, huh? Nice try.”

“I’ll think about what you said,” he assured him. “But I’m curious and you didn’t say earlier.”

There was a reason for that.

“The…I’m working at the Gift Wrapping Booth.”

There was a pregnant pause. “Sorry, the what?”

Dean groaned. “You heard me.”

After a long pause, Sam said, “I see.” Sam hadn’t laughed, but Dean knew full well his brother was most likely holding down a massive fit of laughter. “I’m—wait, aren’t those usually managed by volunteers? And it’s for donations or—”

“It still is. The donation part, I mean. Look, I don’t know the whole story, but apparently, there was an issue last year with some of the volunteers, so this time, they decided to offer their own Gift Wrapping services. Nothing has changed. Every customer is entitled to the services, to donate however much they want, and all the funds goes to the Children’s Hospital, just like last year. The only difference is that the store is employing people instead of relying on volunteers.”

“Is this unusual?”

“I have no clue, but it creates jobs, so I’m not gonna complain about it. It’s actually kinda nice of them to do that since they really don’t have to. And the store is providing the wrapping paper and everything, and let me tell you, it’s not the cheap stuff either.”

“Cool. Cool. I just have one question.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Oh, yeah? What’s that?”

“Had they seen you wrap anything before they gave you the job or…”

“It’s wrapping, not rocket science.”

“Dean.”

“I’m fine,” he said defensively. And then, after a short hesitation, he added, “They do have a certain fancy way of doing it.”

“Thought so.”

“But I’ll manage. I practiced at home a bit—I mean it’s wrapping for God’s sake!”

“I’m sure you’ll do just fine, Dean. I was just curious,” said Sam sincerely. “And how do you feel about it so far?”

“Well,” sighed Dean, “honestly, it’s been somewhat uneventful. I’m the only one in the booth—it’s more like a box, but whatever. At least I don’t have anyone boring to tear my ears off, but people haven’t been super eager to have their purchases wrapped so far. So it’s basically been me, sitting on a stupid chair and looking at people buying stuff I can’t afford. While listening to the same twelve songs.”

“Well, I don’t know if that’s encouraging or not, but I’m pretty sure the pace will pick up soon enough.”

“Yeah. Not sure that’s a silver lining.” Moving the phone away from his ear, Dean looked at the time on his phone. “All right,” he said, after putting the phone back, “I have to head back. My break is almost over. I’m lucky they even give me one, so… Thanks for the phone call.”

“Same. Though, I wish I had better news. Hang in there, Dean. The holiday season will be over soon.”

“I will. I’ll call you back tonight after my gig. And you better not answer because you’re out having fun for once,” he said with glee.

“We’ll see.”

“You freaking better.”

“Fine! Bye!”

Dean, walking to his booth, trying not to drag his feet, passed by toys’ department and spotted his friends, Charlie and Jo, looking at the board games.

Not in a talking mood, he simply waved at them and continued his route.

“Dean, wait!” said Jo.

Dean came to halt and let his friends catch up to him. “Sorry, I have to go back.”

“We’ll walk with you a minute,” said Jo. “Are you still good for tonight?”

“Yup. Pam called me Thursday night to double check. She gave me the address and everything. And a reminder of the regulations. I’m trying not to take it personally,” he said, beaming.

“Don’t. She did the same for me too.”

“Thanks again for giving her my name.”

“No problem.”

“You going too, Charlie?”

“Yes,” she sighed. “Which sucks. That’s when I had my D&D meet ups.”

“Create a new one, then,” said Jo. “I’ll join.”

Charlie lifted an eyebrow. “Don’t toy with me, Harvelle.”

“I wouldn’t dare.”

Then Charlie, smiling, said, “You think we can convince this one too,” she said, poking Dean’s chest with her finger.”

“If I had time to have a life,” he said, “I would.”

Charlie squinted at him. “We’ll have to see about that then.” Continuing walking side by side, she asked him, “So, do you like your new position, Dean?”

“I’m not thrilled, but it’s not bad, either. And if I’m honest, it’s certainly an improvement from last year…”

“That wasn’t very hard to beat,” pointed out Charlie, remembering full well as she had been stuck in the same boat as he had.

“True.”

Having reached the booth, Dean pushed the half-door, stepped inside the booth, and approached the counter facing the girls.

“Wait, I thought you were at the Chocolaterie?” said Jo. “That was like perfect for you.”

“Yeah. I agree,” said Dean. “But I switched for the hours.”

“So, who is manning the Chocolaterie now?”

“Meg,” said Charlie. “I saw her this morning.”

“What?” exclaimed Dean. “Oh, man! I didn’t even know she was back.” And he made a face of disgust.

“She’s actually not that bad,” said Charlie.

An opinion that was not, it seemed, overly shared with her friends.

“Not that I care about that kind of stuff, but she always seemed kind of a manipulator to me,” said Jo.

“I don’t trust her,” said Dean simply.

Charlie lifted an eyebrow. “Um, one, you barely trust anyone. And two, I’m pretty sure the main reason why you don’t like her is because you saw her lurking around that guy you had heart-eyes for last year.”

Jo turned briskly towards her. “What’s that now?” A smirk appeared on her face. “What guy?”

“You didn’t know this?” asked Charlie.

“No. What guy?” she repeated.

“No one,” said Dean, busying himself by moving the wrapping paper around, which was utterly unnecessary.

“Not no one,” said Charlie. “Last year, there was this guy—dark hair, killer blue eyes, about yay-high—he was one of those last-minute employees. You know the ones who are brought in within the last few days before Christmas for emergencies, substitution or additional help?”

Jo nodded, understanding and eager to hear the rest.

“Okay, well, last year,” she continued, “Dean and I were elves helping out kids to have their picture taken with Santa. Which was not very far from the Chocolaterie. And this guy showed up just a few days before Christmas for additional help there, and from that moment on, all Dean did was constantly stare at his pretty face.”

“I didn’t constantly stare at him…”

“You didn’t ask him out?” said Jo.

Dean, pursing his lips, let out a deep sigh. “I never got to. As it was the last days before Christmas, I didn’t have one second to myself. I don’t even know his name or even exchanged a few words with him. And I didn’t work here after Christmas. I, um, did stop by the store a few times, but…and since I’ve been back, I tried to find out if anyone knew anything, but I haven’t had much luck so far.”

“I asked around too since they kept me on after Christmas, but nothing,” said Charlie.

“The only one who may have something is Meg and the only thing she had said to me last year was that his name was Clarence and I’m pretty sure it’s a goddamn lie. Hence: I don’t trust her.”

“Uh-huh. Were they a thing?” asked Jo to Charlie. “‘Clarence’ and Meg, I mean.”

“Who knows?” said Charlie. “It’s possible. I think Meg was the only one who got to interact with him. But he didn’t stay around for that long and I haven’t heard anything suggesting that either. The guy’s a mystery.”

Frowning, something was still bothering Jo. “Why not ask Rowena? If anyone knows who he is, it would be her, no?”

But Dean and Charlie shook their heads. “Rowena wasn’t here last year, remember? It was that atrocious-ass Adler.”

“Right. I think I had repressed that,” she said with a grim face. “Still, there has to be a way to find out. A record or something?”

But Dean was officially done with the subject. “Whatever,” he shrugged. “It’s not like my life depends on it. It was, like, one guy. Who may or may not have been good-looking. From afar. Whatever.”

Charlie and Jo exchanged devious looks.

Ones that made Dean roll his eyes. He waved them goodbye, as he knew they both needed to head back to their own departments, and watched them stroll down the aisle.

And so, left by himself, and with no customers in sight (for him, at the very least), just as he had told Sam, Dean pulled up a chair, sat down and…waited.

Attempting to seem alert and ready to help.

And not appear overly depressed at doing nothing.

At least it’s not complicated and it certainly beats dealing with rude customers.

On the other hand, killing time by staring in front of him blankly felt like a waste of time. Even if he was technically earning money while doing it.

But he knew he shouldn’t complain. As Sam had mentioned earlier, soon enough, he would most likely reminisce on the time when he was bored out of his skull.

But being kept in that booth with nothing else to do but to watch the people around him, while he was stuck alone, served as a painful allegory to his life. Everything around him was moving and there he stood, waiting for someone to come to him, while he was expected to just smile as if he was having the time of his life.

And now, the one silver lining he had had for the holidays was apparently gone as well.

No Sammy. No traditional cookies. And no making fun of old Christmas movies, while eating junk food and drinking eggnog.

They had never spent Christmas apart before. Even when Sam had been away at college. Even when either of them had been in a serious relationship (though that had mostly been Sam’s case, not Dean’s), they had still celebrated the holidays together.

No matter what. That was their thing.

And now he would have to spend it on his own.

Alone.

Assuming he would survive the crazy amount of workload awaiting him in December.

And not be driven mad by this infuriating Christmas music.

Awesome.

I hate my life.

“Hello.”

Dean nearly jumped out of his skin. A hand over his heart, he turned to his left only to realize someone was standing next to him.

In the booth.

“My apologies, I didn’t mean to startle you. I was told to join you today.”

Regaining his composure, Dean said, “Cool. Um, the place has been pretty de—”

And the rest of his sentence died in his throat, the moment his eyes fell on his new co-worker.

Dark hair.

Killer blue eyes.

About yay-high.

It’s him.

And he’s here.

With me.

At the freaking booth.

Dean gawked at him.

Chapped lips.

Stubble beard.

And a deep voice that—

And all I’ve been doing is staring at him like a complete moron.

“Hi!” Dean nearly yelled, waving his hand.

Stop now.

And he immediately dropped his hand.

“Hello,” the man repeated.

“Dean,” said Dean, pointing at himself.

“Hello, Dean. I’m Castiel. Nice to meet you.”

Castiel.

“Um, same. Hi, Castiel.”

And he smiled at him like an idiot.

--End of Chapter One----

Read Chapter Two and the rest of the fic on AO3 :)

#spnpetra #spn fic #xmas fic #advent calendar #destiel fluff #sabriel fanfic #my fanfic #christmas shopping #spn xmas

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freyjawriter24 · 5 years ago

Text

Advent Omens: Snow

Here’s my response to yesterday’s Ineffable Advent Calendar prompt from @drawlight. Enjoy!

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It was a cold a frosty December that year in Tadfield. It was the first time in eleven years that it hadn’t snowed heavily in and around the village in time for Christmas day, but it was still beautifully picturesque, and hardly any of the residents seemed to mind (or even notice).

Pepper noticed though. And Brian. And Wensleydale. And Anathema, who had decided to make her residence in Jasmine Cottage a little more permanent and who had heard the local children’s stories about the amazing things they got up to at Christmastime.

Adam didn’t so much notice as consciously decide that’s how it was going to be. It was a decision made a few months earlier, around the time of a certain altercation at an airfield. And now it was coming to life – winter in Oxfordshire, minus any antichrist influence. Cold, damp, pretty, frosty, and decidedly un-snowy. Just as it was meant to be.

Aziraphale and Crowley had decided that Christmas Day itself was probably more of a time for families to be together without outside interference – particularly interference of a celestial nature – but they’d accepted Adam’s invitation to a Christmas Eve lunch. The other kids were there too, and somehow Anathema and Newt had also blagged places at the table, which made for a very crowded dining room.

“Now, obviously we’ll all be having a big roast tomorrow, and lots of leftovers for the next few weeks, so I thought we’d have something a little different today,” Deidre was saying.

“I did the holly leaves”, Mr Young said proudly.

“Yes, dear,” his wife continued. “And I did all the rest of it. If you want a medal, I’m getting myself a trophy.”

Adam’s dad smiled in a way that suggested that this was an old joke. “Seems fair to me.”

He cut into the vegetable pie with its vaguely holly-shaped crust decoration and served everyone a slice as the children started dishing out chips and passing the ketchup back and forth. The food was good, Aziraphale thought – not his usual fare, considering where he usually dined – but he hadn’t eaten anything homemade in a while, and the healthy dose of love contained within it always made for a pleasurable dining experience. Crowley picked at a few chips and pried the pastry holly leaves off the top of his slice of pie to make them swim in ketchup, before swapping his plate for Aziraphale’s empty one while the humans weren’t looking.

“What’s for pudding?” Adam asked as soon as he’d finished eating.

“Come on, we’ve got to let our stomachs settle for a bit first, son.”

“Yes, no pudding for at least half an hour,” Mrs Young said, standing to clear the plates and motioning for her son to help her. “But it��s apple crumble.”

The kids all grinned and jumped up to help empty the table, leaving Anathema, Newt, the two celestial beings, and Mr Young there together. The latter was loosening his tie slightly when a frown came over his face.

“How did you two say you know us?”

If this question had been directed at Newt and Anathema, it would have been easier to deal with. It wouldn’t even need to be asked, really. Tadfield was a small place, and the mere fact that Anathema might be alone at Christmas would have warranted her being invited over to someone’s house, and why not theirs? And Newt would of course be invited too – he needed feeding up before driving them both all the way back to his mum’s house, after all.

It was, however, directed at Aziraphale and Crowley. Two people who did not live in Oxfordshire, did not have any sensible link to the family, and did not really have a proper reason for being there, other than having sort of helped save the world with Adam a few months ago.

But they’d rehearsed for this. Pepper had come up with the idea – her mum was known as the local, er, ‘interesting’ person, and so the adults were more likely to go along with it.

“We’re Pepper’s godfathers,” Aziraphale said, trying to keep his voice even.

“Her mum wanted us out of the house so she could get some last-minute things ready for tomorrow,” Crowley lied easily. “Deidre said she’d be happy to host us since Pepper was coming here too.”

“Yes, and thank you for the hospitality,” the angel added quickly.

The man’s frown lingered for a moment, then cleared as he accepted the explanation offered. “No, not at all. Always nice to have a full house around Christmas. Makes it seem extra festive.”

The children were chattering excitedly in the kitchen, and the next moment they came running over, Brian cheerfully crowing something about ‘making snowflakes’.

“We’ve got some paper over here,” Adam said, and the boys dived on the stack under an ancient printer that was sat in the corner while Pepper ran to get some scissors from Mrs Young.

A few minutes later, the entire sitting room was filled with paper shards as the children folded and cut and unfolded large almost-uniform snowflakes to decorate the windows with. Aziraphale and Crowley were for some reason put in charge of the four of them while the other adults hid in the kitchen, attempting to find some common ground to talk about.

“I’m going to go over to see Warlock on Boxing Day,” Crowley said quietly, while the others were preoccupied by seeing how much paper they could find already buried in Brian’s hair. “Might see if I can get him away from that family for a bit.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” Aziraphale asked immediately.

“Only if you want to, angel. I know you think he’s better off not having –”

“I want to.”

The words were said gently but earnestly. Crowley looked up at him, and saw the fierceness in those soft blue eyes.

“You’re right,” Aziraphale continued. “I said we shouldn’t interfere too much, now that we know the truth. But he’s already not had a normal childhood and he looked so... unhappy in the park, and I think...” He took a deep breath. “I think it would be nice if we see him regularly, at least. Maybe give him the choice to come and visit us now and again.”

The demon looked back down at the snowflake he was cutting out, checking his sunglasses were on firmly as he did so. “Thank you, angel.”

“Not at all, my dear.”

The children had now gotten distracted by Dog, who was trying to steal the finished snowflakes and shake them apart in his mouth. Mr Young called out that they should take him outside if he was going to be a bother, and so suddenly it was just the two of them alone in the sitting room, surrounded by shards of paper, cutting out snowflakes together.

“Are you going to go as Nanny?”

Crowley made a pained, garbled noise. “I... haven’t decided. I kind of want to tell him the truth. Do you... do you think he’d understand?”

Aziraphale pressed his lips together in thought. “Perhaps. It might take him a while, but I think he’d get there. Humans are resilient, children especially.”

“I just... don’t want it to go wrong.”

His voice was so small and scared that Aziraphale couldn’t help himself. He put down the paper and scissors in his own hands, gently took Crowley’s off him too, then folded the demon carefully into his arms.

“It’ll be ok, my dear. I know it will.”

They stayed that way until the call for dessert came through, and then Aziraphale ate one-handed, his other one squeezing Crowley’s under the table.

-----

It didn’t go wrong. It went unexpectedly smoothly. Mr and Mrs Dowling were surprisingly receptive to the idea of their son’s old nanny taking him away for short holidays now and again, and Warlock was impressively accepting of the fact that Nanny Ashtoreth was actually a six-thousand-year-old demon called Crowley.

“Can I still call you Nanny, though?”

“Of course you can, my darling,” Crowley said, affecting Nanny’s accent for the last two words. Warlock grinned, and hugged her.

“I’d prefer you call me Aziraphale, though,” the angel said.

“That’s fine,” the boy said. “You look nicer as yourself than as Brother Francis, by the way. I understand why Nanny liked you so much now.”

Both the celestial beings went slightly pink at that, but Warlock either didn’t notice or ignored them both. “So, can I get some chocolate log now?”

-----

When the snow actually finally fell in March the following year, Crowley went and picked up Warlock from his parents (well, parent singular – Thaddeus was in America again for work) and drove the three of them up to Oxfordshire to play with the Them.

The Tadfield kids were impressive with their snowman-making skills, having had years of perfect snow to practice with, but it was Warlock who had figured out how best to make a snow demon rather than a snow angel, and he made sure Crowley and Aziraphale had a go at making both.

As Adam and Warlock discussed their various experiences growing up as the antichrist and the rest of the Them threw snowballs for Dog to chase after, Aziraphale moved close to Crowley’s side and slid their gloved hands together.

“I think that all went rather well, in the end.”

Crowley snuck a finger up under his sunglasses to wipe away a small tear.

“Yeah, angel. It did, didn’t it?”

#advent omens #31 days of ineffables #snow #good omens #My writing #Aziraphale #crowley #christmas #drawlight #adam young #the them #anathema device #newton pulsifer #warlock dowling #sorry I'm a day late again #i might try and do two today to catch up #loving this so far

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anthony-kate · 6 years ago

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MALEC ADVENT CALENDAR 2018 | December 21st by @bytheangell

The Kindness of (Handsome) Strangers

((A/N: Inspired by the lyrics to “Old City Bar” by Trans-Siberian Orchestra.))

One would think that Christmas Eve will be a slow day for places like old city bars, while most people travel to and from families and loved ones. And for the most part that assumption is correct - there are less people than usual but the faithful regulars still populate the stools around the counter. In the city that never sleeps, the bar’s neon light shines like a beacon to passersby with nowhere better to be on this cold, winter night.

Magnus washes out a glass between tending to the half-dozen or so patrons in the bar, music playing low in the background from the jukebox in the corner. People stuck working the holiday, or those who didn’t have a family to go home to but who also didn’t want to be entirely by themselves, sit around the small room making small talk. Mr. Dry’s Bar (repurposed from an old speakeasy) is a safe compromise - the solidarity of others in a similar position, but the solitariness of a barstool. Lonely but not alone.

The snow is still coming down outside, starting to pile onto the sides of the roads and sidewalks. Travel is a mess, but when is it not in the city? Still, Magnus is glad to be inside as the edges of the windows begin to ice up. Not that he ever leaves - with a room above the bar he doesn’t need to bother. The outside world brought him nothing but pain in the past and he’s long since stopped trying to force anything else from it. Perhaps he was never meant to love or be loved… at least that’s what he told himself a few years back when he shut himself off to it entirely.

The bell above the door rings, confusing him at first because he doesn’t see anyone there. The sound of light footsteps draws his attention down to the young girl so bundled up in a puffy coat, wool hat and scarf that he can barely make out her eyes to be certain-

“Madzie? What are you doing here, you shouldn’t be out in this weather… or in here by yourself. You know the rules.”

The young girl starts to reply but her voice is muffled by the scarf, and she stops to remove it before trying again.

“I’m not by myself, I’m with you!” Madzie states with the sort of unwavering trust that only a child can possess. She rolls her eyes rather dramatically and Magnus can only imagine how much Catarina hates that particular habit she likely picked up from Ragnor. In all of the city (if he’s being honest, in the entire world at this point) Magnus has three people in his life he still cares for - the three people who wouldn’t allow him to push them away, even now when he hasn’t spoken to any of them in weeks.

“Right. Well, I’m working, and you should get home before it gets too dark out.” He motions back out towards the door.

“I will. I just wanted to see if you knew there was someone lost outside.”

Magnus’ gaze turns back towards the windows, where sure enough a tall man in jeans, a long black coat, and a maroon scarf stands across the street at the payphone that hasn’t worked in years. The snow dots his dark, dishevelled hair before melting, replaced by fresh flakes which repeat the process. Magnus watches for a few seconds as the man tries to pick up the phone, puts it back down, and slumps back against it in defeat.

“He can’t get home,” Madzie adds, drawing Magnus’ attention back to the room he’s in and away from the scene outside.

“Not that I care,” he says slowly, hoping the little girl hasn’t been out there talking to strangers on the street. “But how would you know that?”

Madzie shrugs. “If you could be home, wouldn’t you already be there? It’s Christmas Eve.” And with that she’s gone, out the door and into the swirling snow.

Magnus watched her pass by the window before turning away from it. Wasn’t like he could go give the guy a ride or anything - it’s a city, cabs go by more often than necessary even in the snow. He’ll be fine.

Or maybe not. A few moments later, drawn towards this particular building by the glowing neon in the otherwise dreary winter grey outside, the man from across the street comes into the bar with a little ‘ding’ from the bell above the door to announce his arrival.

He’s gorgeous. It’s the first thing that registers in Magnus’ mind, entirely against his will. The next is the redness of his face, unable to distinguish if its from the cold or potentially from crying - all of his exposed skin is damp from the melted snow so it’s difficult to tell. He definitely looks upset, though.

“What can I do for you?” Magnus asks, doing his best to look entirely disinterested. Which he is. The guy may be attractive but that doesn’t mean Magnus needs to be invested in his problems.

The stranger eyes him carefully, hesitating. “Do you have a phone here I could use? I tried to use the pay phone across the street, but--”

Magnus huffs a laugh. “That thing’s been broken for years. I reported it to the city a few times but, hey, it’s 2018 - I don’t even know if they bother fixing them at this point, or just let them become relics.” He gives the guy a good-natured smile at the joke but it falls flat. Not in the joking mood then. No, he supposes someone in a position to need a payphone in the snow on Christmas Eve probably isn’t having the best of days.

“I wouldn’t ask except my car broke down, and my cell is totally dead, and my apartment’s at least an hour back, walking…” the attractive man continues to explain until Magnus holds up a hand to stop him.

“Don’t worry about it. Here.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his cell phone, unlocking it before handing it over.

The guy takes it with a quiet “Thanks”, waiting just long enough to take a very telling deep breath before dialing the number. “Hey Luke, is mom there?” A pause, and the stranger grows visibly more distraught. “Hey, mom. Listen, I’m-” he swallows thickly. “I’m not going to make it home.”

Magnus watches as the strangers face falls, any attempt at a forced smile for show gone entirely.

“I know. I know it’s been years. No, this isn’t about-” he spares an apologetic, embarrassed glance Magnus’ way and Magnus shrugs and turns away, seeming to give him a bit more privacy though he continues to listen. “I know this is the first year without Robert. I really wanted to see you and Izzy again too, but my car broke down. Even if I had the extra cash for the tow and the cab I’d never make my flight--” The stranger trails off, and though his back is turned Magnus can hear the emotion choking his words. “Just tell Max and Izzy I’m sorry. I’ll call later.”

Magnus waits a moment or two before turning to face the man on the other side of the bar again, taking back his phone.

“Thanks,” the stranger says with another sigh, eyeing the liquor behind the bar. “Can I get a shot of whiskey? It’s going to be a long walk home.”

Magnus nods, fighting the urge to talk; to do what bartenders are expected to do in this scenario, even though he definitely doesn’t care about the sad, stunning man doing shots of whiskey while stranded at his bar on Christmas Eve. Not at all.

Not until the man nearly chokes on the shot, only managing a wincing half-sip before looking like he just bit into a lemon. Magnus has to actively hold back the instinctive laughter. “I’m going to go out on a limb and guess you’re not a whiskey man?”

“I’m not much of a drinker in general,” the stranger admits. “But I figured it’d warm me up a bit.”

Magnus caves. “You said your car broke?” He asks despite his better judgment.

“Yeah. I was supposed to go home for Christmas for the first time in… five years now, I think?” He tries the whiskey again, a little more prepared for the bite this time. “I kind of fucked things up back home, then my parents escalated it, and long story short I left town for college and never came back. This was supposed to be the first year I saw them again… second chances and all that. But I guess I’ll just pick up some extra shifts at work instead.” The guy looks down at the now-empty glass in resignation. “One more for the road?”

Magnus obliges, and this time the stranded stranger knocks it all back in one proper go, still wincing and shuddering a bit as he swallows. Magnus can see how torn up he is over the situation and his thoughts drift towards his own father: he doesn’t even know where he is to try and reach out to him even if he wanted to. Which he doesn’t. Not after--

Magnus is torn from his thoughts when the guy across the bar speaks up abruptly. “Anyway, I should go. How much do I owe you?”

Magnus frowns slightly while remembering the words he spoke on the phone about not having the extra money for the tow or a cab to the airport. Granted, that would be considerably more expensive than a few shots of low-end whiskey, but still...

“It’s on the house.”

The man looks surprised. “Really? Are you sure, I have-”

“Really. Don’t worry about it.” Magnus repeats the offer in a way that makes it very clear he won’t say it a third time.

The stranger lingers a moment before nodding, pushing himself away from the bar. “Thanks. Happy Holidays.” And there’s something in the gratitude behind those hazel eyes at the small act of kindness, even in the face of everything else he’s dealing with, that tugs at Magnus’ heartstrings a little.

“Yeah,” Magnus replies. “Happy Holidays.” This earns him a few funny looks from his regulars around the bar, and it isn’t lost on the stranger as he makes his way back out into the snow that there isn’t a single decoration in or on the entire building. Magnus waits until he’s out of the door before not-so-subtly wandering back to where he can see the guy cross the street through the window. The tall man stops beside a dark car, struggles to get a duffle bag that’s half his size out of his trunk and over his shoulder before shutting the trunk, lastly giving the car a kick out of obvious frustration before turning to start down the street.

Magnus watches. He hesitates. He takes a deep breath. And then, without a single word, he reaches for his red coat and slides it on, grabbing something from the register and shoving it in his pocket before heading out into the snow after the stranger.

----

Alec can’t believe his luck. Maybe it’s a sign. He’s willing to give his mom a second chance and the benefit of the doubt now that Robert is out of the picture and Izzy promises him that Maryse is much better now, swearing she’s really, truly looking to make amends. It was bad enough to learn that Robert was cheating on her after Alec left, but to find out she knew and stayed anyway was almost too much for him to forgive on top of his own grievances. Now that they’re separated and his mom is dating Luke she does seem better, and it’s obvious how much of her opinions of him after his engagement debacle were shaped by having Robert at her side. He thought this year he could try to extend that olive branch…

Maybe this is the universe telling him it isn’t time just yet. He thought he was ready - he really felt like things were lining up to be alright again - but maybe he’s wrong.

The whiskey warms his chest as he grabs the bag from his car, giving the side of the broken vehicle a kick for good measure. “Cheap piece of shit,” he mutters bitterly, not sure what else he really expects from a car nearly as old as he is. Honestly, he’s lucky it lasted him as long as it did.

Alec’s already trying to convince himself this is fine. He hasn’t seen her in years, not since he broke off his engagement to Lydia the day of the wedding. He still isn’t sure what made his parents more furious: the embarrassment of him waiting until the last moment or the revelation after the fact that it was because he’s gay. Either way, the fallout was so spectacular that he left and never looked back… not until now.

The truth is that he’s been looking forward to this for months. He misses his family. He forgave them long ago, probably earlier than he should have, and he needs to be certain that they forgive him, too. A flight home for three days was the best he could manage with the way he’s been working to pay for school on top of the classes he’s taking, and now he has no idea when his next chance to get home may be.

But it’s fine. Maybe he can work something out for over the summer... what’s another Christmas alone after this many, anyway?

He’s ready to start the long walk back to his apartment when he sees something moving towards him - no, not something, someone. A figure in a bright red coat which stands out in stark contrast to the whiteout surrounding them is crossing the street and it doesn’t take him long to recognize the bartender.

“What time is your flight?” The bartender asks without preamble.

“What?” Alec asks back, thrown by the sudden question.

“What time is your flight? How long do you have to get to the airport?” He repeats with a huff of impatience, as if he’s already regretting his decision to come out here.

Alec glances at his watch. “A little under two hours.”

The bartender reaches into the pocket of the red coat and takes out a messy cluster of bills. It’s a twenty or two, some tens, but mostly fives and ones. It’s everything from the register that day. “Take a cab. If you bribe them with a good tip they won’t stall for extra fare time. Traffic probably won’t be too bad this late, you should be able to make it.”

“I couldn’t.” Alec takes a step back while shaking his head. “And I have to find a tow before I leave.”

The older man hesitates, clearly considering this additional roadblock in his plan for the first time. “...leave me your keys?”

Alec laughs in disbelief. “What?!” He has to be joking, right? He doesn’t really expect him to just hand his keys over to a stranger, does he?

“Leave me your keys,” the bartender repeats again, with more conviction this time. “What, do you think I’m going to steal your broken down dinosaur of a -- Jesus is that a Buick? How do you even drive that boat in the city?”

Alec narrows his eyes. The bartender clears his throat and shrugs apologetically. “Sorry. Look, one of my regulars inside owns a shop. We’ll tow it there and you can sort it out when you get back. He’ll give you the fairest price in the city, you have my word.”

He has no reason to trust this guy besides the fact that he was nice enough to let him borrow a phone and not pay for drinks, and Alec can’t help but doubt this much unwarranted kindness, even during the holidays. “Why? I mean it’s nice of you to offer and all, but you don’t even know me.”

Something shifts in the man’s expression. He looks like he’s about to share something personal, give a little insight to his motivations, but just as quickly it’s gone. If Alec isn’t so positive of what he saw he may believe it’s just a trick of the streetlights above them.

“Look, I’m not going to offer twice. Just… take it. Go home. See your family.”

The look in his eyes may be gone but something is still there in his voice: a mixture of fondness and sadness, Alec thinks he hears, wondering if the bartender’s thoughts are on his own family just then.

Alec looks down at the money in the man’s hand and decides to take it.

“I’ll pay you back.” Alec promises, hope springing to life in his chest where only regret and disappointment lingered moments before. Alec reaches into his own pocket for his keys and slides the one for the car off the ring, handing it over to the bartender.

“I’m not asking you to. Don’t worry about it.” The bartender turns and heads back across the street without another word.

“Thank you!” Alec calls out after him. It doesn’t even occur to him that he never got the bartender’s name before he disappears back inside the bar, leaving Alec to flag down the cab that miraculously passes by that very moment.

This, Alec realizes with a smile. This is the sign I needed.

-----

It’s a week later, New Year’s Eve, and there isn’t a soul in sight at Magnus’ little bar on the outskirts of the city. All of his regulars are home by now; anyone wandering by is trying to make their way closer to the action in Times Square and not paying his little hole in the wall a second glance. He’s getting ready to lock up - half of the chairs are flipped upside down to rest on the tables and most of the lights are already out - when there’s the familiar sound of the bell above the door.

“I’m closing up for the--” Magnus starts, but stops abruptly when he sees who it is.

It’s the guy from Christmas Eve.

“Oh, sorry. I can come back tomorrow…” The tall stranger trails off, already looking down at his feet as he turns to leave as quickly as he came.

“Wait!” Magnus calls out, but when the stranger turns back around Magnus realizes he has no follow-up for stopping him until he remembers the car that’s been . “Uh, your car’s fixed but the shop’s closed until the 2nd. I hope that’s alright.”

“It’s more than alright. Thank you,” the guy says. “For everything. Really, I can’t even begin to tell you how much it meant for me to see my family this year. It’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me and I don’t even know your name.”

“It’s Magnus.”

“Alec.” The stranger - Alec - supplies. “Nice to properly meet you.” Alec smiles, and it’s enough to make Magnus forget what he was doing only a moment before; he’s still awkwardly holding a chair in his hand and it takes him a few seconds to remember to set it down on the table to clear the floor for the morning’s sweeping. “Need some help with those?” Alec motions to the chairs left around the tables.

Magnus shrugs. “Sure,” he agrees, trying not to sound too eager. “Thanks.” At first there’s a bit of awkward silence. They don’t know each other. Their last interaction before this was Magnus shoving a handful of money into his hands and walking away, but not before taking the key to his car. This isn’t the typical set-up to any sort of friendship. But after a minute or two Magnus asks how the trip home went, and Alec tells him a bit more about his family, hesitating at the bit about being gay but going on eagerly when it doesn’t phase Magnus in the slightest.

Instead of actually leaving once the chairs are up Magnus pours them both a drink, which turns into two drinks, and the two of them are in the middle of laughing over something one of them said when all at once the sound of cheers and noise makers and fireworks spills into the city streets around them.

It’s New Years.

They both waver, locking eyes, searching for the answer to the same question. There’s something here. Each of them is certain that they feel it on their end, but does the other? Magnus is the first to move closer, almost imperceivably, but Alec’s quick to close the rest of the gap once he makes the first move. The taste of the sweet liquor of Alec’s cocktail mixes with the darker smokey notes of Magnus’ scotch as their lips meet, tentative at first then more confident as hands reach out to smooth up and down arms or thread through hair.

They only pull back when Magnus leans forward a bit too far and Alec nearly falls backward off of his barstool, causing them both to break into barely-contained fits of laughter.

“I should get going,” Alec reluctantly admits, glancing at the clock. “Getting a cab at this point is going to take forever.”

“You could stay,” Magnus offers quickly. He doesn’t want Alec to leave. He thought about that kind smile and those warm hazel eyes every day since Christmas Eve, and the more he gets to know him the more he’s drawn into every facet of his personality. He wants to let him in and he doesn’t know why - but only if he can be certain Alec isn’t going to leave like all the others. God, he can’t let himself get hurt like that again. It’s a risk, one Magnus has closed himself off to for years now, but one impromptu midnight kiss has him certain it’s one worth taking. “I live above the bar, no travel required. And I promise to be a gentleman; I’ll take the sofa, you can have the bed.”

Alec considers the offer for several long, agonizing seconds, and for a moment Magnus is convinced he’s going to say no - which will be disappointing but not surprising. They’re still practically strangers, after all.

But instead of turning him down, Alec counters with an unexpectedly coy: “...and what if I were to say I don’t want you to be a gentleman?”

“If you insist,” Magnus deadpans. “Then I can take the bed and you can have the sofa.”

When Alec starts to laugh again Magnus can’t help but break his perfectly executed serious expression to join in. He honestly can’t remember the last time he laughed this much, and it isn’t until he thinks idly that Catarina would like Alec that he realizes how far gone he is already.

If Alec catches the soft look of surprise that crosses Magnus’ face at the realization it only helps to make up his mind.

“Lead the way.”

#bytheangell #malec #shadowhunters #malec fic #mac18 #mac18:fic

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imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul · 7 years ago

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12 Days of Christmas - Arthur Pendragon

An Advent Calendar of Fics!

Haha! Only a few minutes late. Hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Arthur Pendragon x Reader Synopsis: Basically what the title says. Arthur sends the reader 12 days of Christmas gifts to express his feelings. Word Count: 1,223

“So what exactly are you asking me to do?” Merlin asked, looking at the future king.

“I am asking for your help. I want to give Y/N something special. Really special.”

“What did you have in mind?”

“You like to read, don’t you, Merlin?” Merlin looked at Arthur, and the blonde man laughed.

“Yes,” he said skeptically.

“Then you must know about the 12 Days of Christmas.” Merlin looked him up and down, and Arthur laughed.

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“Do you think you can get that for me?”

“What choice do I have?” Arthur smiled and clapped Merlin on the shoulder.

“That’s the holiday spirit.”

December 13th, you woke up with a knock at the door, and opened it to find a tree, with a large bird inside of it. You looked around the hall, but didn’t see anyone. Wrapped around the tree was a card, and the card was inscribed with these words: ‘On the First Day of Christmas . . .’

“What in the world?” The bird squawked, and you backed up, hitting your back against your door. “Ouch.”

“Y/N?” You awkwardly rubbed your back, and looked around the corner. Morgana was standing a few feet in front of you, looking at you curiously. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you said. “Did you happen to see who left this here?” Morgana shook her head and looked around the hall.

“No. I suspect someone who wants to impress you.”

“Impress me?” you asked, looking at the elegantly clothed lady.

“Yes. You know the story, don’t you?”

“And which story would that be?”

“The Twelve Days of Christmas.”

“The what?”

“You know, the man sends the woman twelve gifts for twelve days. To show his love.”

“Well, then this must be a mistake. No one loves me.” Morgana laughed and shook her head.

“Don’t be so negative. I’m sure your true love will turn up eventually.”

“So, what am I to expect from these gifts?” you asked as Morgana walked down the hallway.

“A lot of birds,” the other woman replied. The partridge squawked again, and you jumped.

“Why me?”

Morgana was right. The first four days were just birds. You had a collection of ten birds currently inhabiting your room, which meant that you were often falling asleep in the library. They gave you horrible allergies, and were constantly calling out at night.

On the fifth day, as you walked past your bedroom, you saw a small box lying in front of your door. There was no way that this could be a bird, so you let out a sigh of relief. You picked up the tiny box, and pulled the velvet string off.

Inside were five golden rings. You let out a gasp, and dropped the box to the floor. Two of the rings clamored out, and you scrambled to pick them up.

“Y/N?”

“Merlin, oh thank goodness. I need your help.”

“What’s wrong?” he asked, walking up to you.

“I need you to get rid of these.”

“What? Why?” he asked, looking down at the rings in your hand. “These are beautiful.”

“I can’t accept these. These are actual gold. I don’t even think I’ve seen actual gold, nonetheless held some.”

“It’s a gift, you can’t give back a gift.”

“Yes, I can,” you said, pushing them into his hands. He pushed them back, and you struggled over them for a minute or so.

“I don’t even know who to give them back to.”

“Well, find out.” He paused, and took the rings.

“Okay, I will. But can you just keep the rings for the time being, at least until I can find out who is sending you these gifts?” You sighed, and took the rings back.

“I guess so. But you need to get these birds out of my room.” You pushed open the door, and Merlin cringed back at the stench.

“Yes, I’m sure I can find a place-”

“Now. Please,” you said, glaring at him. He nodded, recognizing the look you were giving him. He had caught that very same look many a time from your secret admirer.

Even though Merlin had taken the birds, it didn’t help much as the next two days were also birds. You found yourself again living with multiple birds, this time thirteen. You searched all around for Merlin, and had him take them away. You even threatened him that if as much of a feather ended up on your doorstep, he would have hell to pay.

On the eighth day, there was a knock at your door, and eight women stood before your eyes. They gave you fresh milk, and sang you a little song. What they gave you was quite ridiculous, but their presentation was so nice that you didn’t mind.

You carried the milk down to the kitchens on your own this time, and were actually looking forward to the next day. As long as it wasn’t a million birds to tear up your room, or expensive jewelry, you didn’t mind.

The next three days went as pleasant as the one before. You were greeted with nine dancing ladies, ten leaping lords, and eleven piping pipers. The shows only got better, and on the twelfth morning, you were actually eager to see what would be waiting on your doorstep.

The knock came from your door as usual, and when you opened the door, you were met with something rather unusual.

“My prince,” you said in surprise. He smiled softly, and glanced back at the twelve man standing behind him.

“Merry Christmas,” he said. At that, the drummers began, and played you a joyous Christmas song. When it stopped you clapped, and Arthur smiled at you. The drummers dispersed, but one lasted longer than the rest, and handed Arthur a bouquet of flowers.

He nodded at the other man, and then presented the flowers to you. You took them with a blush on your cheeks and shook your head.

“This cannot have been all of your doing?”

“Well, I did have Merlin take most of the things up here for me, but, yes this was my planning.”

“I don’t understand,” you asked, looking at your friend. He laughed and ran his hand through his hair.

“I don’t quite either. I don’t understand this feeling. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before.” You shook your head, and he took a step closer. “I apologize if I seem too forward, and if my gifts were some what overwhelming, but I cannot hold it in any longer. I wish to tell you how I feel.”

“And how do you feel, Arthur?”

“I feel- good.”

“What?” you asked, tilting your head.

“I feel good when I’m around you. I feel like myself. I feel like I can be myself, and have no fear of it. I feel like I could learn to love you.”

“Do you mean that?” you asked, trying to read his face for a sign of a joke.

“Absolutely. Y/N, on the twelfth day of Christmas, will you give me the opportunity to properly court you, and show you that I will do everything in my power to make you happy.” You laughed and shook your head, trying to understand.

“Yes. I would like that very much.” Arthur smiled and leaned forward, kissing you on the cheek. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas.”

#advent calendar fic #arthur pendragon #arthur pendragon imagine #arthur pendragon oneshot #arthur pendragon fanfic #arthur pendragon fanfiction #arthur pendragon x reader #merlin #merlin imagine #merlin oneshot #merlin fanfic #merlin fanfiction #merlin bbc #merlin bbc imagine #merlin bbc oneshot #merlin bbc fanfic #merlin bbc fanfiction

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