#Anyways very glad I got this out there the secret santa was SO fun. Gift I got was so awesome. <3 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mybillyhardgrove · 4 years ago

Text

The Language of Love s.h.

A/n: another one! love language is such an endearing idea to me… plus, I need to show steve more love lol

ps. i mentioned watching movies too much lmao

Disclaimer: i don’t own any Stranger Things material

Word count: 3125

Warnings: a couple curses (par for the course at this point)

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader (female)

Summary: after being with Steve for a while, it has become clear how he shows his love for you

Words of Affirmation

You couldn’t stop shaking your leg or gnawing on the skin of your bottom lip on the drive over to the Wheeler’s house. You looked over at Steve when you heard him laugh a bit under his breath. “What are you laughing at?”

“Nothing, nothing.” You nudged his shoulder a bit, whining that he share what was so amusing. He sighed, glancing over and resting his hand on your thigh before returning his eyes to the road. “I just think it’s cute how wound up you are to meet a bunch of kids. You can relax, they are not hard to impress.” The entire party was meeting at the Wheeler’s to watch The Neverending Story and it would be the first time you met them all. Of course you’d seen your boyfriend talking with them from time to time and you knew Billy, Nancy, and Jonathan from school, so you knew something about their younger siblings, but this was a different circumstance altogether. You thought you might be more nervous than when you met Steve’s parents.

“This is important, Steve. I mean, these kids are practically your children the way you talk about them, and I want to fit in, make sure they like me. You love them and I love you, so I really want this night to go well.” You took a deep breath, getting worked up again and grabbing his hand from your leg, squeezing it tight.

After a few minutes, he pulled his car to the curb outside the house and turned to you. You looked towards the first-floor window and saw the kids all gathered in the dining room, laughing and wrestling. Oh boy.

Steve reached over and put his fingers under your chin, turning your face towards him and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You’re gonna be great tonight. You are so funny and loving and sweet. Those idiots will love you as much as I do. Trust me, beautiful, just be yourself and everything will work out.”

And not to spoil anything, but it did. A few days later, Steve recounted over the phone how all the kids were raving about you and how cool, funny, nice, and pretty you were - just as he said they would.

Gifts

Ever since the first night you met them, you and the party were very close and they always invited you to everything they did. You accompanied them to the arcade from time to time, you helped El and Max get ready for the school dances, you gave the boys relationship advice, and you were even attending the Christmas party at the Byers’s house. Though it was usually you, Steve, and the kids getting together for impromptu hang-outs or some casual pizza nights, this evening involved everyone getting dressed up and bringing food, drinks, and their secret santa gifts.

You had received Max and took care to get her the specific skateboard she had been talking a lot about, information passed to you by Lucas. You gave the gift after being at the party for a couple hours and she jumped up and down, hugging you tightly and saying more than once how excited she was to try it out. After that success, you were riding high through appetizers and dinner, so glad your gift was a success and you were celebrating the holiday with those closest to you. When you had collected the plates for Mrs. Byers and finished washing them with her, you heard someone clear their throat behind you. You turned and saw your handsome boyfriend in a cozy sweater and khakis, hair brushed back neatly from his face.

“Hey, stranger.” You reached out your arms, slipping them around his waist and letting him pull you in tight.

Mrs. Byers shooed you two to the living room to be comfortable, “Honey, everything is all set here. Thank you for the help.” Steve released you, draping his arm over your shoulders and walking with you towards the couch. Once you were both settled, you tucked into his side, watching the kids exchanging more gifts, he pulled something from his back pocket. Passing it to you, he leaned his lips to your ear and whispered, “Merry Christmas, sweetheart.” You looked over with a smile, surprised he hadn’t let it slip that he got you for the secret santa (he wasn’t the best at keeping secrets usually). You sat up a bit more, tearing the neat paper from the gift, gasping when you saw what it was.

A small, ornate book filled with ticket stubs, receipts, polaroids, pressed flowers, and other mementos from your relationship. Your vision got blurry as you looked through each page, reading the little handwritten descriptions Steve had added. When you got to the last page, it said ‘To be continued’, which made you giggle despite how emotional you were. You closed it and held it close to your chest, turning and kissing Steve a few times before thanking him profusely. “Steve, this is beautiful. I love it so much. I can’t believe you put this all together and kept these things.” He placed his hand on your cheek, running his thumb under your eye to wipe a tear away before kissing you again.

“The kids helped me set it all up and organize it, but I had been keeping it all in a little box in the glove compartment of my car. I looked in there from time to time when I was having a shitty day, so I put it in this book for you to look at.” His cheeks were red from all the attention and the confession, which you thought made him so handsome.

You kissed him a couple more times before resting your head on his shoulder, finally realizing that all eyes were on you. Steve seemed to realize at the same time, so he said, “Alright, show’s over. Put the movie on already.” When the lights were turned down low and all attention was on the screen, he turned to you once more, whispering, “Merry Christmas. I love you.” And what a merry Christmas it was.

Acts of Service

It was your birthday and you were dreading it. Birthdays felt like a day of awkward encounters and attention you didn’t want, all while being reminded you were another year older. For most of high school, it seemed to be a letdown in a way because it fell on some random weekday and you did homework for the evening, instead of something fun or relaxing.

This year, however, would be different because of the one and only Steve Harrington. When you had explained your sentiments about birthdays to him a couple weeks earlier, he assured you he would change your mind. You argued that your family would be leaving you for the week and hadn’t even mentioned or apologized that they would be missing your birthday. After making you feel better, he wouldn’t say what he was planning, but he seemed to think it would excite you.

You were on the couch working on Math when you heard a knock at the front door. You rose, opening the door to see your boyfriend juggling three bags full of stuff. “Come in, come in. Do you need help?” He shook his head and shuffled past you, heading right for the kitchen and putting everything on the counter.

When he had done that, he ran to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and picking you off your feet, squeezing you tightly and kissing your neck a few times. “Happy birthday! Happy birthday!” He spun you around before setting you back on your feet. “Alright, I love you and this is all for you, but not yet. Please return to whatever you were doing and when you’re finished, you can… one second” and he rummaged through one of the bags with a frown before pulling out a VHS tape. “Here, this is your first gift. I grabbed it on the way over, so you can watch this while I do my thing in here. I will call you when I’m ready for you to see.” He turned you around and hit your backside, kicking you out of the kitchen and back to your place on the couch.

You were confused, but knew he had things handled and had been over enough to know where everything was, so you got back to work.

When you had finished, you played the movie and tried to ignore all the mumbling, clanks, and shuffling you could hear from the kitchen. At one point, you thought you heard him go upstairs, but ignored it. Then, after a little over an hour of that, Steve came back into the living room, announcing that he had cooked you your favorite dinner and the table was set for you to eat. “While you were watching the movie, I also took the time to clean the kitchen and your bedroom, all sparkly clean. I would like to say I saw your Christmas gift album up there, as well, which makes me very happy. Anyway, happy birthday.” He looked rather pleased with himself and you admitted you were too with all he had managed to accomplish in the time he had been over.

He offered his arm to you and escorted you to a beautiful dinner illuminated by a few candles and enjoyed the delicious food and meaningful conversation with your thoughtful and caring boyfriend.

“This is perfect, Steve, thank you. I think I am starting to like birthdays.” He did a little celebration dance in his seat. You laughed at his silliness, heart swelling with how grateful you really were and how much you loved him.

“Well, get ready because I also made dessert.” Yeah, you really loved him.

Quality Time

The nature of your relationship with Steve was that you spent a lot of time together, whether just the two of you or surrounded by people. He was clingy (in the best way), craving your attention and affection. He cuddled, hugged, and kissed you more times than you could count each time you were together, so you would say every time you were together was meaningful and special. If you both had your ways, you would spend all your time together, but the need for money outweighed those wishes.

Steve had been working at Scoops Ahoy, but after everything in the mall, he and Robin began working at a movie rental place. You were not lucky enough to work with them, working instead at a pizza place that was always loud and always filled with rude teens and entitled adults. Your only time of solace was your hour lunch break, which you took each day at the same time. This was so Steve would know when to stop by. Usually, you ate a couple slices or walked to the strip mall across the street to grab something quick, but this time, Steve said he had lunch handled. When he said that, you frowned and tried to ask what he meant, but he wouldn’t elaborate, so you let it go.

Looking at the clock, it was finally time for you to get some fresh air and spend time with your boyfriend before returning to work again. You pushed open the door, bell jingling, and waited out front for the flash of Steve’s deep red car. After a few seconds of scouting the lot, you found it, parked a few spaces away, Steve smiling at you and waving through the windshield once he saw you approaching.

He got out to meet you at the front of his car, pressing a kiss to your lips and rubbing your back. “How is it going today, sweet cheeks?” You laughed at his silly nickname and explained that it was relatively quiet, fewer phone calls and customers than usual. “Oh, that’s great. The day will fly by and I’ll come pick you up when it’s all over.” He put up a finger to signal you to wait where you were, opening the back door and leaning in to grab a basket and a blanket. “In the meantime, I packed a little picnic for us because I remember how you feel a little sick of all the shitty food we’ve had lately. There are some sandwiches, chips, cookies, and sodas.” Steve placed the basket in your hands, a pleased smile on his pink lips. You never got over how thoughtful he was, always taking care of you. It reminded you of your birthday dinner and how much care he took to make it special for you.

“Thank you, honey. This is perfect. Where should we eat?” He grabbed your hand and brought you to the back of his little car, laying the blanket across the back and took the basket back from you. He put his hands on your hips, squeezing a little before lifting you on the back, making sure you were comfortable before pulling the lunch from the basket, explaining everything and kissing your cheek.

You spent the next hour talking and eating. While he was telling a funny story that involved Robin and a rude customer, you just looked at him - his soft hair, doe eyes, smooth skin, pink cheeks, full lips, and freckles, admiring how beautiful he looked. “And then, she said that he should… is there something on my face?” He stopped talking, rubbing his fingers across his mouth and chin, confused why you were staring at him. You laughed and grabbed his hands, kissing him and leaning your forehead against his.

“There is nothing on your face, Steve. I love you and how much time we spend together. This was a wonderful lunch. Thank you.” You kissed his cheek and encouraged him to finish the story before you had to pack up and return to work.

Physical Touch

Another Friday night with the party, another movie. This time, it was at your house. Since Steve started his new job, it had been even easier for you all to figure out the newest and most popular movies to try. After some arguing, the kids had chosen to watch Gremlins, which would not have been your first choice, but you didn’t want to get involved in the complicated debating. In the end, it wouldn’t matter because on these nights, you and Steve usually ended up whispering together or making snacks as the rest were entranced by the screen.

Max and El looked over at you, asking if you wanted to sit with them on the little mountain of pillows and blankets they had set up in front of the couch the boys were sprawled out on. You smiled and joined them, getting comfortable with one of the large bowls of popcorn you had set out for everyone. You and the girls reached your hands in the bowl every once in a while as you waited for the movie to start. Once it started, you hopped up and shut off the light, looking over to make sure Steve was comfortable. His eyes were already on you and he had an exaggerated pout on his lips, arms crossed as he sat in the big armchair by himself. You shook your head with a grin and returned to the girls.

A little while into the movie, you realized the popcorn was finished and the candy was getting low, so you grabbed all the bowls and quietly slipped into the kitchen, grabbing the makings to replenish everything. After beginning to pour the M&Ms into the bowl, Steve joined you, wrapping his arms around your stomach from behind and swaying you both a bit. “You ditched me. That wasn’t very nice of you.” He kissed your neck after that and you could feel he was a little lonely in that chair alone, despite being only a few feet from you.

You put the candy down, spinning in his arms and wrapping yours around his shoulders as he dropped his face into the crook of your neck. “The girls asked me to sit with them, Steve, sorry.” He grumbled against your skin, pulling you in tighter. You decided to indulge him as you were tired and snuggling into his lap seemed like a nice idea. “When we go back in there, I’ll tell the girls they can spread out more and I’ll sit with you in the armchair. Does that sound okay, you big baby?” You felt him smile and nod. He helped you finish refilling the bowls and carried them to the living room, setting them all by the kids to be devoured. You leaned over to Max and El, informing them of your seat change.

Standing back up, you saw Steve was on the chair and waiting for you to join him, a big blanket in his hand. You smiled and climbed on top of him, sitting with your legs curled up between his and your head against his shoulder. You shifted a little to make sure you were both comfortable and he pulled the blanket over you, wrapping you in his arms. After a couple minutes, you felt your eyes getting heavier with how warm and relaxed you were. Every few seconds, you felt light kisses pressed to your hair and his hand tracing your cheek. He whispered sweet nothings in your ear and it lulled you even closer to sleep. That was, until you heard some snickers and whispers. You lifted your head and saw that the boys on the couch and the girls on the floor were all looking at you, speaking in hushed voices behind their hands. Steve noticed too and frowned. “What the hell are you guys laughing at?” He said this lightly, already having a suspicion it had to do with the two of you.

Dustin answered. “Oh nothing, just that you two are showing a lot of PDA. Steve, you’re whipped.” With that, the kids all laughed, nodding and looking at you for a reaction. You snorted and lowered your head back down, closing your eyes and pressing them against Steve’s neck, letting him answer for you both. You wracked your brain and figured there must be plenty of times where you and Steve act like this in front of the party, so why was this so surprising?

“Oh shut up. Watch the movie.” Not the most graceful comeback, but you felt Steve’s chest vibrate with a laugh as he gestured towards the screen. You heard a few more laughs before attention was once again on the movie. He whispered, “What a bunch of idiots.” You smiled and Steve wrapped you up even tighter, rubbing your back as you fell asleep to the sound of his heartbeat.

masterlist

#steve harrington x reader #reader x steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington/reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things/reader #steve harrington #stranger things #stranger things 2 #stranger things 3 #stranger things 4 #reader insert #fanfic #fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington fanfics #steve harrington fanfiction

157 notes · View notes

reidecorating · 4 years ago

Text

Like Ivy

Request: “Being able to see you smile, being in your vicinity, just that is enough for me.” and “Uh, here, this is for, uh, you.” I’m thinking something Christmas-y with Reid - Anon

A/N: I do apologise for procrastinating on getting this out, but I wanted to make sure it wasn’t terrible. Merry Christmas to all of you who celebrate it, my present to you is the longest fic I have ever written. I had so much fun writing it so I hope you guys enjoy reading it! Happy holidays <3

Pairing: Spencer Reid x BAUFem!Reader

Word Count: 7.7k

Summary: Best friends yearning & best friends pining - but make it festive. Entails Secret Santa, the classic penny behind the ear and waltzing.

Warnings: Fluff, proceed with caution :)

The Cathedral of Santa Maria. Spencer had finally put his finger on it. The small glass dome encasing a building, with doors small enough to allow entrance to ladybugs who may practice religion, adorned unmistakable timely Italian architecture and ornamented pine trees, all dusted with flitters of snow. For the past week, Spencer had caught sight of the trinket each time he wandered past where it sat, as one of the few other decorations surrounding the name plate displaying in gold Times New Roman ‘DAVID ROSSI’, on the often unoccupied desk. So, he gathered that it must be important. Filing away his final stack of paperwork for the night, a silver paperclip glistening in the artificial light, Spencer made a mental note to ask the man about it the next morning. Standing from his usual office chair slouch, he stretched his limbs, feeling a series of clicks in his back as he regained his posture, only to bend back down in reach of his satchel. He made his way home giving tight lipped smiles of encouragement to the few agents sprinkled about the room, working over time. Haphazardly, he pushed the arrow pointing downwards with a cardigan clad elbow. As if on queue, his phone buzzed to the simultaneous ‘ding’ of the lift.

I understand you’re nocturnal, but I hope you’ve gotten home by now! If not, text me when you do so, safely :)

He didn’t realise he was grinning from ear to ear until an aggravated looking bureau member from a floor above, evidently itching to get home, cleared his throat to gain Spencer’s attention. “Sorry,” he grimaced. Noticing the button for the ground floor having already been lit up, Spencer stepped inside and stood as far away, as was possible in the small space, from the rankled looking man and his briefcase. A dimple appeared on his cheek as he remembered you, two years, three months and seventeen days ago - not that he was counting - offering him cherry scented hand sanitiser from a small bottle, and, only after he’d nodded, gently grasping the tips of his fingers to steady his shaking hand as you poured the gelid liquid into his palm. The act was so pure he chose against telling you that while alcohol based hand sanitisers reduce the number of microbes on hands in some situations, they don’t eliminate all types of germs - making soap and water the most effective way to go. Since then, you occupied his thoughts in the same way ivy grew along bricks of long forgotten towers. In abundance, in the most beautiful way. He turned his attention back to the tiny mobile he was holding.

On my way right now. I have a date with microwaved leftovers at midnight, can’t miss it. Will do.

The next time his phone buzzed was when he’d dozed off on the way home, using the concave pane of a metro window as a shoulder to lean against. He waited until his feet landed on the uneven pavement of his stop to open it.

Tomorrow you have a date with a properly cooked meal, at mine. What is it that Hotch always says? That’s an order, not a request.

Spencer’s heartbeat quickened as he read what you had written, his brain immediately carrying variables in an effort to slow it down by convincing himself that friends make each other feel this way. However, when he counted the rose flush on his cheeks and nose whenever you were around, the looks you shared which said more than words ever could and the way you held each other nearer than the distance between the sky and the ocean where they met at the horizon after close calls and mentally grappling cases, it didn’t quite equate to being just friends. Dwindling leaves clinging to their branches shuddered as scissors of winter wind pruned the trees scattered about. Spencer’s pale hands slid into his coat pockets, hiding from frostbite. On the short walk to his apartment, he admired the twinkling lights on either side of the streets, feeling as if he were a plane which had just landed upon a runway in the night. Candy canes, reindeer and eccentric portrayals of Santa Claus glowed amongst bushes and on porches, making Spencer wish you were there to see them too. It wasn’t rare he found himself wanting to share everything he did with you. Pretty things made him think of you. Eventually reaching the familiar building, tiredly, he followed wreaths and holly all the way to his undecorated apartment door.

You? Cooking? I’ll bring a fire extinguisher. Home safe. Goodnight, sleep well.

He kept his promise, despite seeing the time was nearing to one in the morning and being doubtful you were still awake.

Hilarious :/ and I will, knowing you’re alive. Goodnight Spencer :)

Spencer coveted for nights when he could tell you goodnight from right beside you, perhaps with his hand draped around your waist while yours tugged at his hair. He wanted to fall asleep to the scent of your skin and whatever soap you’d picked up from the store that week, not the quiet hum of his vintage fan. His microwave beeped, acting as an alarm to return down to earth from the clouds, presenting him with far less than gourmet potatoes. Realising he would take your burnt cooking over this any day, he settled for a sandwich.

∗∗∗

“Did you know that snowglobes were invented in France. They were first introduced as ‘water globes’ at the Paris Expedition Fair in 1889, and, to no surprise, the first snow globe actually contained a tiny scaled Eiffel Tower covered in snow,” Spencer lectured, almost putting the two agents who had struggled enough to get out of bed, back to sleep. The days were slow. Annual leave for a majority of the bureau was looming nearer and files kept them busy as the jet gathered dust. “Glad to hear the French contributed something, other than their opprobrium of a language, to this world,” Emily complained, from her desk. “Well, baguettes… Croissants, parachutes… Aspirin-“ Spencer was halted by the unimpressed look on Rossi’s face, as he hovered on the edge of Spencer’s table, a bushy eyebrow raised in vexation. “What’s with all this talk of snowglobes, kid?” The older man squinted at Spencer, craning his neck towards this, the way he did to suspects behind the glass of an interrogation room. “Since you brought it up,” he smiled smugly, swivelling in his chair from one side to another. “What’s the story behind the Santa Maria sitting on your desk?”

“Yeah, the eighties have come and gone, Rossi, isn’t it a bit late for repentance?” Emily let out a sly smile, walking over to also lean against Spencer’s desk with a steaming mug in hand. “It was a gift from my grandmother, handmade, I take it out every Christmas to help get in the festive mood,” Rossi explained. “Also, that was very funny Emily but now… I can’t help but recall what Garcia told me about the time you got a little tipsy and licked peanut butter off J-”

“No one told me it was National Congregate Around Spencer Reid’s Desk Day today.” The three agents turned their heads in unison to find who the voice belonged to, Spencer’s breath hitching at the sight of you. You stood before them, an upturned magician’s hat in hand, semi-curious as to what the ending of Rossi’s sentence would have been if it weren’t for you interrupting. “Y/N!” Emily waved, flashing a smile. “You’ve taken an interest in magic and didn’t even think to tell me,” Spencer feigned a hurt look. “Spencer, I knew magic wasn’t for me after I did the card trick you taught me, wrong . Six times,”

“It was seven. Plus, the student is never as good as the teacher,” he suppressed a smile. “Or maybe the teacher just isn’t good,” you raised an eyebrow at him. “That’s a little hostile, someone didn’t get enough sleep last night,” Spencer defended himself, putting his hands in the air. His eyes held a glimmer of mischief as if to say ‘we know something that you don’t’ when they met yours. Emily’s jaw dropped. “That… Didn’t sound suggestive at all,” Rossi pursed his lips in concern, looking back and forth between the pair of furiously blushing agents. “Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t,” you winked at Rossi. Basking in the radiance of your laughter washing over him like the sun, Spencer chuckled along. “Anyway, what’s with the hat?” Emily questioned. “This,” you shook it by its brim, “contains the remaining names for this year’s Secret Santa, courtesy of Miss Penelope Garcia. I was just ordered to present it to you all. She calls it being her ‘little elf’ - I call it unpaid manual labour - but pick a name, any name,” you encouraged. You watched as Spencer’s tongue comically poked out as he eagerly concentrated on picking a name, elbow bent at a worrying angle. “I just want to say that every time I get a gift that isn’t alcohol, I’m slightly disappointed,” Emily turned to you as it was her turn to fish for a piece of paper. “I’ll keep that in mind,” you grinned at her. You watched Rossi’s expression as his eyes skimmed the name in his hands. “Oh, and Rossi, yes, there’s a budget,” you called over your shoulder, causing them to laugh as you gave them a wave. Slinking away from the comity of the bullpen, back to Mrs Claus’ lair, you retrieved the only remaining name. You paused in the hallway to double check if you’d read the glittery scrawl correctly. Spencer Reid. It was just your luck. You were prepared to engage in hand to hand combat with Garcia, seeing her office looming ahead. “Penelope. I hate you. I love you,” you kissed her cheek, placing the top hat on her curls, “but I hate you.” She recognised the tone, beaming at the implications. “Thank me later, beautiful!” She called after you as you rushed away to get started on completing the mountains of reports you had been avoiding thus far.

The day had come to a close, a headache making a home for itself in your head. Scanning the, now, mostly empty room, you caught sight of the back of Spencer’s uncombed head. Double checking that not enough people were around to be reprimanded by HR for misconduct, you inconspicuously made your way over to him snaking your arms around his neck and burrowing your nose in its crook. “Hi,” he chuckled, amused at the sudden affection, his unoccupied hand immediately reaching to grasp one of your wrists. Spencer had followed your strict, but coffee induced, orders earlier that morning telling him not to distract you unless, one, he was dying, or two, something was on fire, because you were determined to finish the numerous write-ups you had left until today. “Hi,” you mumbled into him. “Ready to go home?” You asked sweetly, arms still slung around him, pulling your face away to get a glimpse of his soft features. Your heart stopped for a little while, at the beauty of him. He was breathtaking. You refrained from tracing the small bump of his nose with your own, and settled for admiring the five o’clock shadow presaging a hidden jaw. The part of Spencer that craved domesticity was enchanted by your simple question, the word home resounding in his head, acting as an old film reel for projections of images of the two of you together; leaving work together, going home together. Little did he know that, as if through an unnoticed telepathy, just a few inches away, the same images occupied your own head. Coming home to an empty apartment had become tedious. You allowed yourself to give into your daydreams of returning home to Spencer - with Spencer. Spencer, with his warm eyes and words that drip like syrup from his tongue. You wanted nothing more than to revel in him filling your senses once the cologne from the day had been washed away, and hear him harp on about the history of mattresses, attempting to retain questions to ask him later in your memory bank, as you capitulate to sleep. “As a matter of fact, I finished most of what I had to do last night so I am ready to go… home,” he tested out the word, to which you had assigned a brand new connotation, feeling a flutter in his chest. You quickly rescinded your arms as you peripherally detected a flock of agents returning from what you assumed was an afternoon break. Spencer suddenly missed your body on his. Having already packed your things, feeling accomplished noticing that the pile of folders on your desk had shrunk significantly, you packed Spencer’s things to save him time, aimlessly throwing the strap of his satchel over his head for him once he had ungracefully shoved his arms into a blazer. “Hang on,” you gently pulled at his shoulders to meet your height, carefully fixing his tag and creased collar. The blush on his face, at the feel of your cold fingers brushing the nape of his neck, said everything he didn’t - save a meek, “Thank you.” You smiled at him in return. “Wait,” his eyes widened, “I need this,” he mumbled, reaching into the bottom drawer of his desk, pulling out a large black bag, decorated in gold intricacies. He didn’t explain it, but you knew that if Spencer had something to say, he would come out and say it, just all in good time. “Now are you ready?” You eyed the thing curiously, and glanced back at him. “Let’s go,” he motioned his arms in front of him, with a small nod, letting you lead the way.

Afternoon rays of sun fought their way through clouds, battling with the winter air to warm the people mingling outside as you made your way towards the crowded station. “Penny for your thoughts?” You asked, intuitively slipping an arm through his when the sun began to disappear altogether. Your cheeks grew warm as you realised your compromising position, feeling your heart rate return to its usual pace once he relaxed into your touch. “Hm?” He turned to look at you, letting his river coloured eyes unabashedly scan your face. “You look like your mind is far away,”

“What’s on my mind is definitely not very far away,” he said, quietly. That glimmer had returned. You noticed that the crease between his brows had disappeared, indicative that whatever thoughts were rattling through his brain, were good ones. You hummed a smile, content with his contentedness. “So… Hand it over,” he extended a palm a second later. “Hand what over?” You asked, genuinely confused. “A penny,” he said as if it was obvious. You blinked up at him, unfazed by the joke, as he bit his lip provokingly. All of a sudden he stopped walking, eyes still on you. “Just… Hold on a moment,” he whispered, squinting at you as he reached a hand towards your cheek. You remained still, thinking that Spencer had finally lost his mind. “Here it is!” He exclaimed, breaking out into a smile as he retrieved a one cent coin from behind your ear. “What!? You’re kidding! That was brilliant,” you beamed at him, eyes wide in bewilderment. “For a second there I thought you had gone crazy,” you teased. “Magic does that to people,” he nodded, satisfied with how impressed you seemed. “Ah, but alas, you gave me a very ambiguous answer, so I,” you snatched the penny from his fingers, “am entitled to a refund.” Spencer shook his head with a soft smile. “You might need to use that for the bus if we miss the next train,” he informed, hurriedly examining the watch on his upturned wrist.

No trains were missed, that day, the two of you arriving at your door in time for the six o’clock news. “Here, let me take your coat,” you offered, putting it on the small rack beside the door, placing yours adjacent to it. Spencer relished in the warmth of the place, setting his things down. “So, I’m thinking we get a proper meal in us, and then you can help me decorate this dreary place,” you instructed. He wanted to let you know that anywhere you are is far from being dreary, but something told him that was far too sappy, so he settled for a simple, “Sounds good.” He took in the familiar apartment, its walls embellished in old paintings snagged from secondhand stores and books scattered about on almost every horizontal surface, in a certain disorderliness that said, yes it’s messy, but everything has its place. “Also, I hope you know that you’re only leaving in the morning so make yourself at home.” It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence for the two of you; you falling asleep at his apartment out of feebleness, him at yours, and more often than not, it involved discarded games of Scrabble as the two of you settled for debating the rules instead of actually playing. Lately, he’d been craving it more and more - and so had you. Spencer would never say no to that offer, but he was taken aback. “But I didn’t pack- I don’t have-“

“Eidetic memory is slipping I see,” you giggled at his flustered state. “I told you, I kept finding toothbrushes, sweaters and socks here every time you left, so I made a drawer full of your things, since you practically live here anyway,”

“An entire drawer? I didn’t think I was missing a whole lot,” he responded, nose tinted red. “I have to water my plants quickly, before I put dinner on, but feel free to shower,” you said, still laughing quietly. “Let me help cook, first. You need someone to disassemble the smoke alarm,” he raised an eyebrow at you. One ‘KISS THE COOK’ apron and half an hour of seasoning a chicken, spilling sweet potatoes and bumping elbows later, the two of you stood back from the counter, you boasting to Spencer about how nothing had turned to ashes, and him pointing out that the oven hadn’t been turned on yet. Soon after, you put the oven on high, humming an indistinguishable carol over the shower that could be heard running from the next room. A warm, tingling feeling overcame you.

By the time you had showered, Spencer stood serving - a well timed and flawlessly cooked - chicken, wearing mitts matching the baggy flannel pyjamas keeping him warm on top of the open oven. “Smells good,” you complimented, slightly startling Spencer. He stood at the small wooden dining table, mouth agape at the sight of you. He was sure his heart was a puddle. “I like your sweater,” he praised. You glanced down slightly confused, shortly realising that your sweater, with its much too floppy sleeves, reaching a little way above your knees, was actually his. “Oh, I’ll wash it and give it back to you at some point,” you said shyly. “I was wondering where it went, but don’t worry about it, the colour looks nicer on you than it does on me,”

“Nonsense, you know that’s not true.” Soon enough, you found yourselves digging in - not before you expressed your gratitude towards food that wasn’t charred for the first time in months. You sat across from each other, your reindeer sock clad feet occasionally tapping his beneath the table. Spencer’s heart was full, marvelling at you from where he sat, wishing this could be something he could experience forever, much preferring it over a stale sandwich. You watched him intently through your eyelashes, chin resting on your interlaced hands while he taught you about how the thalidomide scandal emerging from Germany led to safer drugs in the pharmaceutical industry, the lecture prompted by an article he’d read recently. It continued into getting the dishes cleaned up, his rambling only being interrupted by your intermittent questions which incited further tangents, or requests to pass the tea towel. His voice was a ruffled silken sheet, on which you would like to lay for eternity. Admittedly, you found it difficult to focus on retaining any more information than the odd date, due to being too focused on the way his lips moved to form every word he said, hopelessly enamoured by the overly enthusiastic expressions he made to match the tone of what he was saying. Eventually, he wandered towards the living room as you stacked away the final plate, butterflies still spurring in your stomach from when his fingers brushed yours as he handed it to you.

“Spencer Reid effortlessly navigating technology, Christmas miracles really do exist, huh?”

“Actually, I just remembered watching you choose music, instead of paying attention to the road, that one time you drove me to work,”

“I was most definitely paying attention,” you huffed out a laugh, slightly bashful at the thought of him remembering small things you do. “You hit the kerb four times! That was the day I vowed to never let you transport me anywhere,”

“I see your argument, and I raise you with the counter argument: the kerb hit me.” Sitting with his back against the couch, legs sprawled out over the rug beneath your coffee table, Spencer couldn’t hold back his laughter. After watching you disappear into the kitchen, he busied himself with reading the holiday edition of Reader’s Digest laying on the table. He recounted you telling him that you had accidentally drunkenly subscribed to it, and never bothered to cancel the subscription, the first time you’d caught him reading an issue. You emerged a short while later, with drinks in both hands. “Bonjour monsieur, on tonight’s menu, we can either open this Merlot or, drink Capri-suns like the sophisticated adults we are. Your pick,” you said, hiding the juice pouches behind your back and noticeably waving the bottle of wine in front of you. “I have a feeling it isn’t my pick,” he let out a laugh, “so just fill a glass with enough Merlot for two,” you were on your way to get a glass before he had the chance to finish. “Your wish is my command!” You called. Spencer put down his magazine once he saw you rushing towards him with a large glass of wine in hand. “Of course you opt for Christmas Jazz over Mariah Carey,” you teased, hearing the music he’d queued floating from the withering speaker in the corner of the living room. It was the kind of music that would play in the diner of an expensive hotel, you noted. “I can change it if you’d like?” He began reaching for your phone, when you halted him by grasping his arm. “No, it’s good, I like your taste.” Spencer grinned sheepishly, taking the glass from your hand as you sat down beside him.

Hours of conversation and decking the halls with tinsel later, with wine flushed cheeks and twinkling eyes you moved the furniture to cater for your very own dance floor. Carefully, Spencer placed a hand below your ribs, touching you like new glassware, lacing the other with yours. Your unfettered hand, replaced the weight of the world as it rested on his shoulder. You recognised the look on his face as he settled into the close proximity, it was the same look that painted yours when you admired him whilst he failed to notice. The soft glow of a lamp illuminated the man you held, making an indistinct halo of golden light appear above his unkempt hair. “I apologise for any damage caused to your feet,” you giggled, struggling to find a rhythm. “Here, follow my lead,” he looked down at your feet. “The Waltz?” Dazzled, you raised an eyebrow, a few seconds after recognising the box-like steps in unison. Spencer tried to focus on anything but your lips, glistening in the dull light, so close to his. “Mhm, I’m not exactly the most co-ordinated-”

“You don’t say?”

“That’s tough talk for someone I’ve seen fall up a flight of stairs,”

“That sounds made up, but as you were saying,” you laughed into his chest. “It’s simple because its a repeating pattern. Did you know that name of the dance comes from the German word waltzen, which means to turn, or to glide? Some say the dance itself comes from the folk music and dances of west Austria, but others debate that it’s a variation of the Volta, from the 16th century,”

“Interesting, makes sense to debate that though. I’m pretty sure volta means ‘a turning’ in Italian - although that’s mostly in reference to the turn of a new thought or idea in sonnets… I’m thinking of Shakespeare,” you chimed in. “Sonnet one-hundred and thirty being a classic example of that,”

“Of course you would know that,” you shook your head in awe, cheeks hurting from grinning too wide. The incandescence of the smile that hadn’t left his face all day was mesmerising, the honeyed expression tied together with the dimples on his cheeks and creases around his eyes. “What would you like for Christmas?” He mumbled, lifting a moment of peaceful silence. “If you pulled my name out of the hat today you’re going to have to be a lot more subtle than that,”

“Unfortunately not,” he pouted. “Don’t tell anyone I told you, but I have Rossi,” he whispered the words into your ear, neglecting that no one else was around to hear. “What do you get a man who already has everything money can buy?”

“A new wife,” you joked, causing him to scoff. He studied your visage as you pondered his earlier question, still swaying to the soft piano sounds. “Honestly Spencer, being able to see you smile, being in your vicinity, just that is enough for me,” you finally answered, tilting your head up at him. Spencer thought his knees would give way. He thought his knees would give way, and he would hit the ground with enough impact to implode through the earth’s crust. In reality, he only stumbled over his feet momentarily, regaining his composure before you noticed him slowly becoming unhinged. “If that’s the case, I wish I’d picked your name,” he managed to utter, breathlessly.

The music which continued to play was drowned out by the sound of steady breathing, you were too caught up in each other to pay attention to the world. Wordless, you looked into his eyes, his actions parallel to yours. “You look beautiful right now,” he sighed. “Of course, you always look beautiful but, you know.” You shook your head, refraining from averting your eyes from his. He wished you believed it, promising himself to never abstain from letting you know until you saw yourself the way he did. “It’s funny you say that, because I was thinking the same thing. About you of course,” you rushed out the last part, realising the potential for miscommunication. “I love seeing you happy,”

“Well, as long as you stick around, you’ll be seeing a lot of that,” he spoke lowly, on the verge of telling you about all the things he felt for you. You hadn’t realised, but you had unconsciously moved closer together. You could feel his warm breath on your skin, lighting a fire inside your lungs, as he took yours away. Spencer saw all of the signs; the signs that this was not usual for a friendship. Maybe, if it weren’t for his defeated battle with fear, and doubt, he would have told you by now that he had fallen desperately for you. Spencer knew there wasn’t a drop of insincerity behind any of the kind words you spoke into him, he understood that you were his person, but he found it difficult enough to comprehend that someone could feel this strongly for someone. So, the implausible idea that someone could feel this way about him, was one he was not even prepared to entertain. “Y/N? I, um,” he tried, wearily. You gave him a soft smile, both tired arms laced behind his neck now as his rested on your waist. He dropped his sword. Once again losing the fight against his unreasonable insecurities, changing his mind at the last second. “I need to give you something,” his demeanour changed and he vanished from your line of vision. Your heart sank, hopes of hearing him say that the love you had for him was requited, fallen. Before you got too lost in your head, he emerged from the doorway with the same black bag you’d been inquisitive of. “Uh, here, this is for, uh, you,” he tucked his lip beneath his teeth. “Spencer…” you trailed off as he handed it to you. You sat yourself on the carpet, patting the spot next to you for him to join. “I thought I should give it to you now, since I’ll be in Vegas for Christmas,”

“Spencer, you really didn’t have to-“

“Go on, open it,” he ignored your humility. You gave him a look as you opened it - it being replaced with a look of elation as you realised what it was. In your hands, you held a scarf, long enough to hit the floor, striped in all your favourite tones. “I had to ask my mom for help with the tassels, but-“

“You took the time to make this? For me?” You exclaimed. Without thought, you draped it around his neck to tug him closer to you, throwing your arms around him in a tight hug. “This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me, thank you so much,” you lauded, refusing to let go of him. “I think it was last winter, we were walking back to our hotel in Minnesota during a case, and you insisted that the both of us use my scarf to keep us warm, because you didn’t have one,”

“Ah, I remember that, except it ended up being one of the top ten worst disasters in U.S. history due to the height difference, and we both ended up falling face-first into the snow,” you giggled, recalling the way you had used up most of the hotel’s hot water afterwards. “Exactly,” he matched your expression, “seeing as you still haven’t bought one for yourself, even though we lose eighty percent of our body heat through our head and neck, I thought I would take matters into my own hands,”

“Well, I love it. You’ll have to tell your mother I said thank you and that I’m sending my love,” you finally dropped your arms from around him, out of fear of crushing his shoulders.

Once the zeroes had lined up on the twenty-four clock, Spencer sat where he usually resided on your bed, ardently admiring you as you folded away his gift. “Wait! Spencer close your eyes! Please!” You squeaked, immediately shutting the cupboard doors, realising your unwrapped present for him was hidden within. “Y/N? Is everything alright?” He asked, eyes now sealed shut. “I didn’t want you to see what I’d bought for Secret Santa,” you let out, too exhausted to form a coherent excuse. “We only got those names today - well, yesterday, now - so how did you manage to-”

“Shoot,” you cursed to yourself, knowing his unintentional profiling would lead him to the conclusion sooner or later. Spencer’s eyes slowly opened. “Okay, let’s say if, hypothetically, I had intended on giving you something for Christmas anyway, but then drawn your name today, would you, hypothetically, be able to act surprised when you receive it from me at work?”

“Hypothetically speaking, I would?” He squinted at you, stifling laughter. Your hair was slightly messy and your drowsy eyes were visible to Spencer even without his contacts in. He thought you just looked so adorable, wanting nothing more than to hold you and share your warmth. “Anyway, come to bed,” he beckoned, his voice gravelly, giving way for the day. Obliging, you shuffled towards your bed before sliding your cold feet beneath the covers. Spencer turned to face you, resting his cheek on an upturned palm. “Sorry for ruining the surprise,” you whispered, tucking the duvet under your chin, bright eyes looking through him. “You didn’t ruin anything,” he assured, treasuring the sight before him. There had been a shift in the air between the two of you. Spencer held the wine accountable, but he could sense that you felt it too, a level of intimacy that you had not quite reached during previous nights like this. “Come closer, I need to exploit your body heat while I can.” Spencer listened to your instruction, inching nearer to you, his heart rate so high he was sure you could feel it when you nuzzled your head into his chest. “Goodnight,” you felt his chest rumble. “Hang on, the night isn’t over yet,” you mumbled, “talk to me,”

“About?” He asked, amused by your grit to avoid sleep. “Anything you want,” you yawned. “You’re sleepy,” he stated, coaxing you into getting some shut eye. When you tilted your head up and continued to blink at him, he gave in. “Have you ever wondered why a lot of our most vulnerable conversations happen at night?” You nodded in response. “Well, a study done by the University of Colorado a couple of years ago concluded that natural light from the sun actually regulates your circadian rhythm, or internal biological clock, which standardises your sleep cycle. According to their study, this sleep cycle coincides with sunrise and sunset, meaning that if you regularly expose yourself to sunlight, your body enhances its internal clock to align more closely with the natural light cycle,”

“Based on that,” you contended, words slightly jumbled, “our circadian rhythm would vary between seasons, right? And yours would be different, since you’re a literal vampire, to say... someone who surfs down in Florida because of disparity in sun exposure?”

“Precisely,” he raised his eyebrows, “I’m impressed you’re still paying attention, you look like you’re already dreaming.” Spencer nudged your forehead gently with his own, causing you to breath out a laugh. “Alright, so how does all of that relate to being more vulnerable at night?”

“It relates in the sense that the rise and fall of the sun reflects in our physiological, as well as emotional behaviour. During the day, we’re a lot more active, and at night, we become more relaxed and receptive. Hence, since your mind is at ease, all the thoughts and emotions that might have felt jumbled up during the day become clear, making them a whole lot easier to express,”

“Mhm,” you managed, eyelids growing heavy. “Do you… have anything to say now,” you whispered drowsily, eyes now closed, “that you can’t say during the day?” Spencer couldn’t handle it anymore. He was already so fond of you but as his hand settled to rest around your waist, feeling your warmness, he believed his ribs could collapse from the way he felt inside. As you dozed off, gradually, winter became less cold in his arms and dreamscapes of his tea leaf eyes. “And, she’s asleep,” he whispered, minutes after silence, into your hair, “but to answer your question, yes,” his lips planted a chaste kiss on your forehead, “I love you.” Of course, unbeknownst to him, you weren’t asleep just yet.

∗∗∗

A couple of days went by, and as more time went on, the less certain you became as to whether Spencer had really even said the words, wondering if the whole thing was just a fatigue driven hallucination your lovesick mind had conjured up. Waking up beside him the next morning however, tangled in a warm cocoon of cotton and limbs, had left you feeling giddy, smiling like a fool with heart shaped eyes as he attempted to feed you the waffles he’d made - which the two of you gulped down far too quickly than sanctioned, to avoid being late for work. When you didn’t succeed, and the clock had beaten you by ten minutes, you both wrestled past evocative looks from the rest of the team for the remainder of the day, JJ even singing something about the two of you ‘sitting in a tree’ . The soft, shared, smiles and light brushes of fingertips when he handed you coffee in the mornings left you wanting to concede; let him know that you would walk on burning coal for him, the more logical side of you reminding you that professing your devotion to him over an open case file consisting of a double homicide, three days before Christmas, was far from ideal. Spencer wanted the kind of love only the poets could express. This had become evident the evening you took him to a midnight screening of ‘Un homme et Une Femme’. You recalled leaning into him to translate, catching sight of his welling eyes glimmer in the dim lit theatre. Believing his love should be celebrated, you decided to withhold the unsurfaced feelings a little while longer.

Later that week, you all gathered around the BAU tree, a small framed picture of Derek decidedly hanging from one of its upper branches after Garcia had to be heavily persuaded, and eventually bribed, to not place it at the top, arguing “But he’s my star.” Spencer snuck behind you, subtly placing a hand on your back to glide through and place Rossi’s gift under the tree. “I want to let you know that I’ve been practicing my ‘surprised’ face in the mirror,” he discreetly whispered against your neck, making you roll your eyes. “Okay super sleuths, I know we’re all itching to fly away for a break, but hold your reindeer, because we are yet to kick off our annual Secret Santa,” Garcia excitedly exclaimed, shuffling in with two large sparkling bags. “I thought there was a budget?” Rossi quirked. “Yes, sir,” she looked smug, “for you.” The team shared smiles at Rossi’s perplexed look. “So, who wants to start us off?” Garcia chirped. With that, the festivities were under way. You held tight an abnormally large heat sensitive mug, which you were sure would also reveal a promiscuous image once warm - a gift from Emily, who gave herself away by insisting it would help your caffeine dependency - watching as the others tackled ribbon wrapping paper. You threw an impressed look Spencer’s way, that glint of knowing something the universe doesn’t returning to your eyes, when Rossi opened a small portrait of what looked to be a Venetian cathedral, the Santa Maria to be exact. Once the banter and excited chatter had died down, everyone turned to the recipient of the final gift, neatly labelled Spencer Reid, enveloped in brown paper and tied with deep purple ribbon. Penelope looked as if she were about to pass out. Spencer’s shifting eyes landed on JJ as she mouthed a small ‘you’re up’, causing a smile to tug at his lips when he eyed you gazing at him with the soft look he adored. Your eyes lingered on his hands as they swimmingly untied the mauve knot and tore open the paper to reveal a large leather-bound journal. He examined the old looking thing, trailing his fingers along the convoluted golden details of the artistic interpretation of a moon calendar adorning its umber covers, partially covered by thin leather straps. His mouth was slightly agape, shaking a little at how well you knew him, clumsily catching the matching novelty pen before it slipped out of the wrapping and onto the floor. You had picked it up at a forlorn occult shop after it had caught your eye while looking out of place as it lay surrounded by large crystals. Knowing in an almost divine way that it should belong to Spencer, you had bought it. He couldn’t help but look at you briefly, communicating a silent gratitude. “This is amazing,” he ogled, “I love it.” Your heartbeat was in your throat. He was yet to find out you’d filled the first page for him.

Shouts of Merry Christmas, long hugs and season’s greetings were thrown around the room before, one by one, everyone slowly bade their goodbyes. While helping JJ clear away torn reds and greens of gift wrapping, you caught sight of Spencer, ears and cheeks scarlet, with his nose buried in his new, opened, journal.

“We are asleep until we fall in love," you looked up from Leo Tolstoy’s one thousand page book and recited to me, once. Since you walked into my life, I’ve been wide awake. You know that I’m never far away, but this is for the days you need to let out some of what you hold in, without saying it aloud.

I love you too, Spencer.

Spencer read and re-read the words until he was sure he could recite them like the Lord’s Prayer. It was commonly Spencer who remembered small details and remembered paltry quotations, but this time, it was you. Sitting in the glow of the afternoon sun, one October, he had been reading War and Peace, and couldn’t help but share the line with you as you sat across from him, chewing through a much smaller number of pages and reading a collection of poetry. The woman he had been so captivated by, admiring from afar that day - and all others, felt the same way he did. In disbelief, he began breathing manually. Making sure he was deciphering the cursive lettering correctly, he scanned the page again. While his eyes were definitely not deceiving him, they remained glued to one word. Awake. The havoc caused in his heart by the train of thought hitting him so brutally, rivalled only Gare Montparnasse. You must’ve heard his confession nights ago. It was the only explanation for the ‘I love you, too’. You most definitely were awake. Profiling tendencies overcame him. With his basic background of graphology, he could make out that the last line had been written in fresher ink than all the others, confirming his hypothesis. For the first time in a while, his mind was quiet, the uncertainties which fought to float in, unable to make their way through as if the thee simple words you’d handed him were a barrier for them. He needed to talk to you.

Walking quickly towards the elevator, an overwhelming wave of anxiety crashed over you. You had subconsciously been avoiding Spencer for most of the evening, second-guessing whether or not you’d heard him correctly, whether he’d even meant the words in the way you’d interpreted, wondering what you would do if this friendship were to ever end. However, a more hopeful side of you contended to quiet those thoughts. He had to feel it too. There was no room in which you hadn’t shared a longing look. The feather touches, and dancing. So badly did you want to believe that he thought this too. A slender arm appeared through the closing elevator doors, tugging you back to reality, causing you to jump before quickly pushing the open button. “Spencer! You could’ve lost an arm!” You yelped. “It’s okay, I have two of them,” he huffed. He avoided your eyes for a moment, before inhaling half of the oxygen in the small lift and turning towards you. “I wanted to say thank you, for this,” he held up the book, “it’s gorgeous, and sort of… exactly what I needed - and not just the book itself but what you wrote… inside it,” he nervously looked at you. “Did you- do you mean what you wrote?” His tone of voice syringed into you a drop of hurt. “Spencer, I never want you to think that I don’t mean it,” your let out in a shaky voice, gently grasping his elbow. You visibly saw his body ease, a smitten smile replacing the lip being chewed at. His throat bobbed as he gulped before he spoke again, heartbeat in his ears. “I want you to know that I’m in love with you, Y/N. I don’t want you the way I want a best friend, I want you in a-” he sighed, clenching and unclenching his fist trying to find the words, “I want you in a way that means I want to fall asleep beside you, and wake up to you the next morning, for as long as the sun rises. I want you. I want you - no, need you, the way the tide needs the moon to rise and fall, I want you-” he swallowed, furrowing his brows at his feet, “I want you, like this.” Hazel eyes fluttering shut was the last thing you saw. Large hands lightly caressed your face, one travelling behind your ear, brushing your neck to delicately tangle in your hair. After years of wondering, you finally knew what his lips felt like on yours. His nose bumped yours lightly as you tasted his soft lips, their slight chap reminding you that winter had kissed them first. Your hands wrapped around his wrists, before one settled on his tilted jaw and another hid in his chestnut hair. He felt warm, everywhere you touched setting electricity through him. Even after you pulled apart, his arms remained on either side of your face, holding you like you were fragile. His breath fanned over your face, as you shivered, the fluttering in your stomach unsubdued. The elevator had long reached the ground floor, causing the two of you to bashfully laugh concurrently. You thought to yourself that Spencer’s crimson flush and wide grin was a sight you would lose sleep to gaze at. “All this time, I’ve been missing out on that,” you teased, watching him shyly bite his lip as he waited for you to say something else. “I’m very glad you said all of that because I’m very much in love with you, Spencer Reid, and, if you’ll let me, I want to love you, the way people love in all the books you’ve lent me,” you told him. At that, he was sure his heart was yours, fearlessly. So, making afternoon plans and debating which train to take, neither of you really caring as long as you were in the other’s company, you finally stepped out of the elevator, oblivious to the mistletoe that was hanging within it, but more than mindful of what was to come.

225 notes · View notes

suchalonelysunflower · 4 years ago

Text

Merry Crisis (a.i)

Pairing: Ashton Irwin (ft.5SOS) X Fem!reader (Dad!Ash)

Summary: Shopping is always stressful, but when you have a baby on the way... it can become a chaos, especially when you have 3 crazy best friends with you.

Warnings: Language. Fluff and some crackhead moments. Reader uses she/her pronouns. Mentions of Birth. Some grammar mistakes (English is not my first language, sorry)

Word count: 4.5 k

Author’s note: Hello! This is my first Holiday fic with 5SOS and it’s Ashton’s turn to shine (even tho each boy gets their moment) This was so fun to write, I did it on my sociology class (so maybe it’s not that perfect) and I love it very much and I hope you do too! Reblogs, feedback and comments are always welcome and encouraged! Support your writers! ❤️ Hope you like it and Happy Reading 🦋❤️

My materialist // wanna be on my tag list?

Twas the evening before Christmas, the streets were filled with Christmas lights and the chill air of Los Angeles made everything cozier as families gathered around the fireplace and enjoyed the most peaceful of times…

This statement does not apply to our favorite band, tho.

Our four Australians were not enjoying a cup of hot cocoa with their families as they were supposed to, oh no. They were doing the most dreadful thing a person could think of doing the night before dear Santa came to visit: They were Christmas shopping.

In their defense - or at least Calum’s, Michael’s and Luke’s defense, this was all Ashton’s fault for he was the one that dragged them to the crowded mall in the middle of one of the busiest days of the year. And, in Ashton’s defense, it was not his fault that the store had called him in the middle of a recording session to tell him that they finally had the only thing he wanted for Christmas: A music box.

He just had to get it before everyone else.

“Why did we come all over here for a little music box?” Asked Michael as they stood at the end of the line for the register. How could they only have one register open? It’s Christmas for fucks sake! but then again, it’s Christmas for fucks sake, so they know that people should be with their families instead of working a poorly paid job.

“It was the last one!” Ashton claimed, admiring the little circular box in his hand “It’s a limited edition and I just had to get it for Y/N and for the baby”

His eyes lit up when your name escaped his lips. Not even a year ago did he officially make you his wife, but now you were carrying his child! People might think it was rushed, but for Ashton it was the complete opposite. He had his life made when he met you, knowing that he will marry you as soon as he could… he had to wait a few more years to do that, but he was extremely happy, more so now that your little family was expanding. He loved you and your child with all his heart, and the boys all knew that so they can't even be mad about it, even if he kidnapped them to the mall with the promise of some cinnabuns later.

“She had one of these when she was little” Ashton continued as he admired the little hand painted details of the box “It always played a little lullaby to help her sleep. But it broke a few years ago and she always complained about not having one like this for her kids one day… But now she will!” The black haired man smiled.

“Shit, that’s actually pretty sweet” Michael commented “Okay, you’re forgiven”

“I don’t know if I want to hug you for being the perfect husband, or to kick you in the balls for being the perfect husband and making the rest of us feel bad” Luke chuckled.

The four boys laughed at the comment and started talking about their plans for the Holidays as they waited for the line to move. The problem was, it has been fifteen minutes and the line has only moved once.

“How long is this line anyway?” Calum said, peeking over the side, furrowing his eyebrows as he noticed at least thirty more people waiting in front of them “Shit, this is going to take a while. That man has at least twenty plushies and eleven race cars”

“I don’t know how people could leave this kind of stuff for the last minute” Ashton huffed, earning a death glare from each of his friends “This one is different, tho! It was the last one!”

“I’ll give you a hundred bucks for that!” Someone said behind Luke, making him jump at the sudden surprise.

“What the-” Luke said, placing a hand over his heart.

It was a short man in a trench coat who pointed to the music box in Ashton’s hand.

Ashton furrowed his eyebrows and said to the man “Uh, not a chance mate”

“Two hundred?”

“Nope”

“Five hundred?” The man would just not cave and Ashton was getting fed up with it, luckily Calum noticed and hurried to say something before his friend started a scene.

“Hey, mr. Devito wannabe. He said no, so just go bother someone else. Okay?”

The man scoffed and turned his face to the side, stating that he was offended. The four Australians rolled their eyes and turned their backs to him once again.

Another fifteen minutes passed and the line barely moved. The guys were not talking anymore, running out of things to say past the twenty minute mark. Each of them were bored out of their minds, well all but Ashton at least, he was still gleaming with pride as he looked at the music box and created scenarios in his head and thought about the joy that would be mirrored in your eyes once you open it tomorrow morning.

After a few more minutes of silence, Luke was the first one to break it “I think I’m just gonna get a coffee and wait in the car. These boots are killing me today” He looked at Ashton as if to ask permission, but the dark haired man just shrugged and nodded, asking him to buy one for him as well and to leave it in the car.

Michael then added “Yeah, I think I’m gonna go and check the electronics this store has. I think I saw a new camera that would be perfect for my streams”

And that only left Calum and Ashton waiting in line. But about five seconds later, Calum opened his mouth.

“Yes, you can go explore, too” Ashton said with a sigh before Calum even got a chance to ask.

“Cool” The curly man said, patting Ashton on the back before muttering a ‘I’ll be right back’ Leaving him alone with the music box.

Ashton didn’t mind. In fact, he kind of enjoyed this time alone. It gave him plenty of opportunities to imagine a new future for the both of you next to your little baby boy or girl. He catched a glimpse of families walking around the mall, buying gifts or eating a snack as they smiled at each other. He couldn’t wait for that to be his new normal.

He remembered the time when you told him you were pregnant. You gifted him a special baby bodysuit that said “My daddy is the best drummer in the world and there is nothing you can do about it” next to your positive pregnancy test. Ashton always wanted to start a family, especially if it was with you, but he never expected it to be so soon. Yet, once he held the test in his trembling hands, he knew that this was the best thing it could’ve happened to him. He remembers how tearful he got the second his brain processes the information, quickly running up to you and pressing an earth shattering kiss to your lips, promising you and your baby that he would be the best father in the world.

And, as he held the little object in his hand, he already thought he was doing a pretty good job. He smiled to himself and thought about calling you. Not only did he want to hear your voice at this moment, but also because he wanted to check up on you. You were having tea with your best friend at the moment, but the pregnancy hormones were hitting pretty hard lately and he wanted to make sure you were doing alright.

But as soon as he got his phone out of his pocket, your name started glowing on the screen.

“Baby! I was just about to call you” Ashton said with a smile, loving this little coincidence.

“Ashton, is coming!” You said in an alarming tone. Ashton, however, did not understand what you meant.

“Yeah? I’m coming home soon, why are-?”

“No!” You cut him off “The baby, Ash! The baby is coming!”

Ashton laughed “Ha, ha very funny Y/N. But the baby isn’t due until three weeks from now”

“ASHTON FLETCHER IRWIN” You yelled through the phone, making Ashton pull away from the phone for a second “MY WATER BROKE AND THE BABY IS COMING NOW. SO GET YOUR ASS TO THE HOSPITAL BEFORE I-” A sharp pain ran through you as you were experiencing the contractions. Ashton could hear your distant groan and immediately went pale.

The baby was coming and he wasn’t ready.

“Ash, hello?” Your friend’s calm voice came from the other end “I’m gonna take Y/N to the hospital right now. I need you to meet us there, okay?”

“Fuck, okay. I’m on my way” He rushed to say before he ended the call.

“Hey, dude. What’s going-?” Michael said as he approached the black haired man who looked like he might throw up.

“The baby’s coming!” He said, trying to concentrate on his breathing before he hyperventilates.

“What?!”

“Hey, Mike, is everything-?” Calum came next, worried about his friends’ weird behavior.

“THE BABY IS COMING”

Michael.

The guitarist started wandering the electronics and new technologies hall. He was secretly glad he got away from waiting in line for what it looked like another hour, but at the same time he was glad he decided to accompany Ashton in his little quest.

The moment he knew you were pregnant he set himself to be the best uncle that little kid will have. He already knew that you and Ashton were going to be great parents, with the way in which you love each other it was hard to think otherwise. Michael was always up for anything you guys wanted to do for each other, from secret dates or help you sneak out after a concert, or even to plan gifts! He always took pride to know that he was part of your epic love story, even if it was with just a little favor.

Michael stepped into the videogame aisle like he usually does, but this time he went directly to the kid’s section, knowing that eventually your baby will want to play videogames with uncle Mikey and he will have to be ready with the most family friendly games he could find.

He started grabbing a few of them and reading the little summaries they had on the back, eventually deciding that he did not understand anything about children’s games and that he might have to ask around in order to find the best ones.

He went back to the electronics aisle and something caught his attention.

“Is that a real megaphone?” He asked one of the workers there “I haven’t seen one since 2014” He said, remembering the last time the boys ever let him play with one of those in the Good Girls video.

“Yeah! It’s the new model” Said the teenage boy that was in charge of that seccion that day “Wanna try it out?”

“Before that, can I go and show it to my mates? I won’t be gone for long, they are just down the checkout line”

“Sure!” The young man smiled and gave him the megaphone.

Michael had a big smile on his face as he started walking towards Ashton to show him what he found. But his smile dropped the minute he saw Ashton’s face grew a thousand times paler.

He carefully walked up to him and asked “Hey, dude. What 's going-?”

“The baby’s coming!” Ashton said, trying to catch his breath.

“What?!”

Calum.

He hated the mall. He really did. There were always too many people, too much noise and the prices were always exaggerated. But he knew that he was here today for a good cause. Calum was not going to let his best mate down.

Ever since you came into Ashton’s life - and the boys’ life for that matter - he could tell that you were special. Not only because of the way Ashton talked about you all the damn time, but because of your energy, your passion, your kindness and obviously your undenying love for the drummer.

Calum was always the protective friend, always keeping his guard up for any new companion they boys might have. But with you it was different. The first time you two met was the day you instantly became best friends. He knew he could trust you to keep Ashton’s heart safe, and he knew that if Ashton ever broke your heart that he was going to have to kick his ass for being that stupid. Luckily, he wasn’t.

He was the first person (after Ashton, of course) to know about your pregnancy. He swore to himself that he would not let anything happen to his future godson/goddaughter. That baby was going to be the perfect mixture of his best friends, there was nothing in the world that could stop him from loving them just as much as he loves all of you. He even got them toys so they could play with Duke when they’re older! Needless to say that he was very, very excited.

As he wandered through the halls of the store he noticed a commotion next to the toys section.

A line of kids accompanied by their parents awaited in front of a huge chair decorated with fake snow and candy canes. Santa Claus was going to be there.

“Oh my god” A female voice said behind him “You are Calum Hood!”

Calum turned around and was faced with a young girl dressed as an elf looking at him like he hung the moon or something.

“That I am” He said with a smile “Hello, nice to meet you!”

“M-my name’s Lizza” The girl blushed “I’m a huge fan! Is it okay if- I mean, could I get a picture? Please?”

Calum smiled “Sure!”

Lizza squealed “Omg, okay. But, can we do it over there? The kids aren’t supposed to see me yet” She said, pointing to a corner with a curtain and some costumes, presumably Santa’s and his elves'.

Calum nodded and followed the girl, catching a glimpse of the Santa Claus outfit “Do you think I can wear that for the picture?” He asked. Honestly, he just wanted to know how it would feel like to dress up as Santa, knowing he would one day have to do it for your child.

“Of course!” The girl said, taking her phone from her purse and giving it to another elf so he could take the picture.

Once the picture was done, he started to strip off the big red coat, the white beard and the hat when suddenly he had an idea “Is it okay if I borrow this for a while? Maybe five minutes? I wanna prank some friends that are at the check out”

“Uhh”

“I’ll give it back, I promise,” He said with a smile.

Lizza sighed “Sure! We have another one for emergencies”

“Cool, thanks Lizza”

Calum walked away with the fake beard, the warm coat and the hat, feeling cheeky as he approached the line.

“What?!” He heard Michael yell. And although Michael always yells, this one seemed important as his voice sounded concerned.

“Hey, Mike, is everything-?” Calum said, approaching his friends with a very confused face. But before he could even finish the question, Ashton looked at him with fear in his eyes.

“THE BABY IS COMING”

Ashton.

This was not good. Not good at all. His wife is at the hospital about to give birth and he is still in the line of the fucking mall.

“Oh shit!” Calum said, looking frantically over the line that was still too long “OH SHIT”

“Okay calm dow- Is that a Santa costume?” Michael asked.

“Calm down?!” Calum said, panicking “My best friend is having a baby and you tell me to CALM DOWN?!”

“I’m having a baby…” Ashton said in a whisper, not really paying attention to what was going on around him “I’m having a baby”

“Not you!” Said Calum “Well... also you but I meant Y/N! She’s the one pushing it mate” But Ashton did not listen.

His whole world paused in that moment. Too many thoughts were running through his head as he tried to formulate a plan, any plan that would get him the quickest to you.

He thought he was doing a good job, he thought that he was going to be the best dad ever and now he was going to miss the birth of his first child because the line wasn’t fucking moving.

“Ash?” Michael called, but he wasn’t listening.

How could he screw this up so early in the game? Your baby wasn’t even born yet but he swore he could already feel their disappointment.

“Ash..”

And you! How could you ever forgive him?! You will surely file for divorce once the baby is born.

“Ashton!”

“What?!” He yelled, looking at Michael who was shaking him by the shoulders.

“Fucking breathe man! You almost turn purple there”

Michael started breathing at an even pace, motioning Ashton to breathe with him and so he did “It’s going to be okay, don’t worry about it”

“How can you say that?!” Ashton almost cried “I’m not even a dad yet and I’m already screwing up! Who doesn’t show up to the birth of his child?”

Michael rolled his eyes, knowing his friend was just talking out of fear than out of reason, and shook him by the shoulders again “Listen to me, you are already a great dad! You were a dad even before Y/N got pregnant and you are not going to miss the birth of my nephew or niece. I won’t allow it. But first I need you to calm the fuck down!”

Ashton looked at Michael and swallowed the lump in his throat “What if I’m not ready? What if we’re not ready?”

Michael chuckled “You asked me the same question when you were about to walk down the aisle a year ago. You were ready even before you knew you were and this is not different”

But before Ashton could say something, Calum walked up to them again.

“There are fourteen people ahead of us” Said Calum, who had just run up to the start of the line “If we asked them to move, we might get there in time”

“Or maybe you could leave the music box to me…” The man with the weird vibe intervened.

“Fuck off DeVito!” The three Australians yelled.

Suddenly, a lightbulb got turned on on Michael’s head “I got an idea!”

A panicked Calum dressed as Santa and a very panicked Ashton watched as Michael ran out of the store for a second, only to come back pushing a Target cart “Get in!” He said jumping in the cart and motioning to Ashton to follow him.

Ashton jumped inside without asking any questions, not even when Calum started pushing the car or when Michael turned on his… was that a megaphone?!

“Attention ladies and gentlemen” Michael said through the megaphone, making every single person turn their heads towards them, as if two large Australians standing inside of a shopping cart being pushed by a very tattooed Santa Claus wasn’t stiking enough “We have a man that’s going to become a father at any moment now while his wife is in the hospital! Please let us through!”

Ashton does not know if it was the weird scene they caused, his desperate face or Christmas magic that made everyone on the line take a step back as Calum pushed them through the checkout.

Once they got there, the cashier took his money, too shocked to say anything else as Ashton yelled “Keep the change!” As they rushed through the doors and towards the parking lot with Calum pushing the cart at a great speed with all of his energy as all the other customers looked at them and wondered what the hell was going on.

“Mommy?” A confused random kid asked “Why was Santa pushing those men on the cart?”

Luke.

His favorite Christmas playlist was playing in the car. He loved the holidays, but he hated Christmas shopping with his life. So he was very thankful that Ashton could understand this and let him wait in the car.

As he hummed through the song “His Favorite Christmas Story” he thought about the gift he got to your little unborn baby. As soon as he found out you were pregnant, he knew he had to spoil that kid rotten. Well, not that he knew he had to, but he wanted to. You and Ashton were the best people he has ever met, and he knew your little baby was not going to be different, so what’s wrong with giving that child the world they deserve?

A few months ago he talked to a friend of his that made customized presents made of crochet, so he asked if they could make a baby mobile to put over the crib. He also made sure to ask that the animals that were to adorn the mobile were your’s and Ashton’s favorites, and also throwing a little kangaroo in honor of their father’s homeland and a little penguin in honor of their future favorite uncle.

He smiled to himself as he thought he couldn’t wait to meet the little pal and how he couldn’t wait to start a family of his own. But his daydreaming got cut short when he heard a commotion coming from the mall’s doors.

Sirens were ringing and a lot of people stood and watched at whatever was causing the disturbance. He even had to take a double look because he thought he just saw Calum dressed as Santa Claus pushing a shopping cart with Ashton and Michael inside, the latter speaking with a megaphone in his hand. And indeed that is what he saw.

“LUKE START THE CAR” Michael yelled from his megaphone. And Luke, being the smart man that he is, did not ask questions as he did just that.

Soon enough, Calum Santa Claus was jumping inside of the car, followed by Michael and Ashton, who just sat in the front seat.

“What is-?” Luke tried to ask, but his three friends were quicker as they all said at the same time:

“The baby is coming!” “We needed to get the music box” “The line was too fucking long”

“Hurry up, dude!” Calum said, giving Luke a pat on his shoulder as he stared at them, very confused.

“Why didn’t you just leave the music box with one of them?” He said, motioning to his friends in the back “I could’ve come back for them after I dropped you off…”

The three Australians all looked at eachother like they were the most stupid people on the planet. Until Micahel turned on the megaphone again and said with a defeated voice: “Just drive”

The ride to the hospital was silent as Luke drove through the streets of LA at full speed. Michael even turned on the siren of the megaphone to make way across the traffic jam. How the hell they didn’t end up in jail? A Christmas miracle if you ask me.

Once they got there, Ashton was the first one to jump off the car, followed by his best friends as they ran through the hospital’s floors.

“Irwin!” He said, once they got to the maternity wing “Y/N Irwin! My Wife-”

Luke followed, almost knocking down Ashton as his boots slipped on the floor “His wife!” He said, almost out of breath.

“His baby!” Calum added, almost falling to the floor as he tripped over his foot.

And last but not least came a small “Help?” From Michael who was completely out of breath as he sat on one of the chairs in the waiting room.

The nurse, apparently not taken aback at the sudden outburst of three grown man and a Santa Claus in her waiting room, just smiled at Ashton and said: “Over here, Mr. Irwin. You are just in time, she just started dilating…”

But Ashton didn’t hear much as he walked behind her, anxious to see you and see your baby. Breathing heavily as he tried to calm his nerves before he got to your room. He gave one last look to his friends and smiled at them.

“You can do it man!” Michael said, giving him the thumbs up.

“You go Poppa!” Luke cheered.

“We will be here!” Calum said, feeling tears of pride gather up in his eyes as he watched Ashton turn into another hallway, ready to become the dad he always knew he could be.

“Did you actually steal a Santa costume?” Michael said as the other two sat down next to him.

“And you stole a cart and a megaphone so shut up”

A new family.

You watched with tired eyes as your husband held your baby girl in his arms.

“She is so tiny…” He said with fresh happy tears falling rolling down his cheeks. Ashton started crying as soon as he saw her little face and heard his heart shattering cry.

You almost thought that he wasn’t going to make it in time, afraid that you were going to have to get through the birth of your child all alone. But he came through the doors just in time and he did not let go of your hand for a second, even when you knew you were crushing it as you pushed.

“I love you so much” He said, just as he’s been saying for the past hours since he got here “I love you so much and I love her so much I- Thank you”

“Why are you thanking me, love?”

“For giving me the best gift of all” Ashton said as he laid next to you with your daughter curled up on his chest “You gave me the family I always dreamed of. I could never thank you enough for it”

He slowly lowered his head and pressed his lips to yours, showing you all the love that he could in only one simple kiss.

“Well, it’s not like you didn’t help on making this, you know?” You teased, making him chuckle “I should be thanking you, Ash.You and her are the best thing that has ever happened to me, I love you”

“I love you” He said, capturing your lips in another kiss as you let the music box play in the background, filling the room with the notes of your favorite lullaby.

“Should I let the boys in?” He asked as he passed your daughter back to you. You just nodded, not wanting to let your friends wait a second longer to meet your baby. “Oh, and just a heads up, Calum is dressed as Santa Claus and we might never be allowed on the mall again”

You laughed “I can’t wait to hear that story”

Ashton smiled as he got out of the room and walked towards where the boys were sitting. Once they saw him walk up to them, they immediately got up, all of them smiling proudly at the new - official, father of the band.

“Boys, come and meet our baby girl: Jane Elizabeth Irwin”

Tags: @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof @talksoprettyjjx @mystic-232

239 notes · View notes

combat-wombatus · 4 years ago

Text

Hot Cocoa

Pairing: Iida Tenya x gn!reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Need some help?” You asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ding!”

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

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

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

“Oat or regular?” You asked Iida.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I like you.”

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

“I’m real, Iida-san. I’m right here!”

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

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

“Really.” You smiled bashfully.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mina

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

Mina

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

(Y/N)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I hold her?” You asked.

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

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

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

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

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

“What should we name her?” Ochaco asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shinso what?”

“Cat cafe?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You knew what I meant,” Mina sighed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Merry Christmas.”

Masterlist

134 notes · View notes

3pirouette · 3 years ago

Text

Fic: A Red, White, and Blue Christmas (4/?)

By: TriplePirouette/3Pirouette

Disclaimer: They're not mine.

Distribution: AO3 Anyone else please ask first :)

Story Summary: White Christmas AU. Peggy is pulled from Project Rebirth, setting off a chain of events that leaves Steve and Bucky unharmed at the end of the War, but never having met. Until, that is, their paths cross as professional performers. Steggy Secret Santa gift for @roboticonography

Chapter 3: All Night in the Club Car

Chapter Summary: In which our heroes spend some more time together

Chapter A/N: It took me a while to get into the swing of these versions of the characters, but I love them so, so much. I’m also really blown away by everyone’s love for this (Especially you, Robot- I’m SO GLAD you’re enjoying it!)

I will continue to try to update every 3 days or so (minimum once a week) until it’s done!

~*~

Steve ran just slightly faster than humanly possible, catching up to the open door to the moving train car, swinging up with ease that surprised the conductor. “Come on, Buck!”

Bucky huffed, pushing hard. With a superhuman effort, he made his last few steps just that much faster, reaching out and taking Steve’s hand so he could swing him on to the train.

The conductor marveled at them. “Why, I haven’t seen running like that since the last Olympics!” Steve and Bucky both took a second to catch their breath, waving the man’s amazement off. “Got a bit held up, huh? You two made it just in time.”

“You could say that,” Steve replied, straightening his suit jacket. Though playing at the Martinelli’s act had been fun, and the applause enough to make him consider something like it for that seven-minute hole in act 2, being chased out by the perturbed sheriff while they manhandled all the luggage into a cab and then tossed it onto a moving train caboose hadn’t exactly been in his plans for the night.

“Your tickets?” The conductor asked, smiling, as the train blew its whistle and picked up speed.

Steve turned, looking at Bucky who had a very peculiar, very guilty look on his face. “You’ve got the tickets, haven’t you?”

Bucky made a good show of patting down his pants and shoving his hands in all his pockets. “Well, I know they were here somewhere. Didn’t Will give them to you?” Steve just pressed his lips together, letting his displeasure be known. “Damndest thing…”

“We had a drawing room reserved,” Steve told the conductor.

“Well, either you can present the tickets or you can’t.” The man, though small, had a commanding presence. “Every available space on this train is occupied. However, you can purchase tickets and sit up all night in the club car.”

Steve turned looking sharply at Bucky. “You wanna pat your pockets down again?”

Bucky shrugged, turning his pants pockets inside out. “Musta left ‘em in my girdle.”

Steve turned back to the conductor, more than a little upset. “How much are two fares to New York?”

The small man flipped through the book in his hand. “Let’s see… Ninety-seven dollars and twenty-four cents.” He looked up expectantly.

Bucky interrupted Steve before he could even speak. “What about Vermont?”

Steve’s eyebrows knit tightly. “We’re not going to Vermont.”

“It must be beautiful in Vermont this time of year, though,” Bucky argued, “Snow’s gotta be nicer than the mucky sheets of ice over in Brooklyn.”

Steve shook his head. “We’ll take two to New York.”

Bucky didn’t let the conductor look back at his book. “But how much more is Vermont?”

Steve turned his whole body this time. “Who cares about Vermont, Buck?”

He smiled big, the same smile Steve knew from a childhood full of schemes and plans that got him boxed on the ears by his Ma. “Well, we should Stevie! The snow and the trees and the fresh air! When was the last time we took a real break? We’re just going to sit at home in New York, anyway. This would be good for us!”

He turned back to the conductor, despite Bucky’s theatrics. “Two to New York, please.”

The conductor smiled, a little less enthusiastic at this point. “That’s still ninety-seven dollars and twenty-four cents.”

Steve waited patiently, but Bucky didn’t move. “You lost the tickets, you’re paying.”

Bucky shrugged, an embarrassed half smile on his face. “Seemed to have forgotten my wallet, too.”

Steve sighed, slipping his from his pocket. “What’d you do? Leave it in your purse?” Steve pealed out a pile of bills and handed them to the conductor. “Sorry about all this.”

“Quite alright,” He counted then their change and handed them punched slips of paper. “The club car is just that way.” He pointed down the corridor as he moved past them in the opposite direction. “Have a good evening.”

Steve started down the corridor at a fast clip, Bucky rushing to keep up. “We had a room in our names, Buck, they shouldn’t be allowed to give it to someone else.”

“Well, you know, there could been a slip up,” Bucky’s voice was the voice of a man who knew full well what happened, and Steve knew it as well. He paused eyeing him sharply just as the train took a sharp dip. “Come on,” Bucky pushed him foreword. “Holidays, lotsa people trying to get home. The Stevie I knew woulda given up his seat for a poor old grandma trying to see little Timmy at midnight mass.”

Steve peered at him over his shoulder. “I’m more concerned about con artists trying to use our names than a granny needing a seat, Buck.”

“Oh, fine, fine.” Bucky slipped behind him so they could maneuver between cars. “You say that now, but when you find Granny Hilda in our room, don’t say I didn’t tell ya so.”

Steve stopped moving only a few steps into the club car and sat heavily in a booth. “So not only have we paid for our tickets twice—”

“We can afford it. You’re not that broke kid anymore.”

“—We have to stay up all night.”

Bucky sat across from him and nodded at the bartender who was polishing the small bar just a few feet away. “We’d be up all night if we took a plane.”

Steve leaned back into the leather. “But we didn’t, we took a train so we could sleep.”

Bucky clicked his tongue against his teeth and kicked at him good naturedly under the table between them. “Says the man who needs about four hours of sleep every week.”

Steve stared at him with only partially put on frustration before he closed his eyes. “It’s not about the sleep.”

Bucky settled himself in the long, padded booth seat. “Good, because I watched you sleep everywhere from a hole in the wall hotel to a literal hole in the wall during the war. You can fall asleep anywhere.”

“That’s the point, Buck.” Steve sat up, elbows on the table. “We don’t have to sleep in holes in walls or mud puddles or transport jeeps anymore. Sure- I want to help out people who have nasty landlords, but we… we—” Steve stopped, his shoulders falling as realization dawned in his eyes. “You didn’t.”

Bucky didn’t move a muscle.

“Tell me you didn’t.”

He didn’t move an inch, forcing casualness but his eye twitched just a little. “Didn’t do what?”

“Tell me that not only did I hike my pants up over my knees and lip sync tonight while those marabou fans nearly choked me, not only did I get chased by a sheriff—which, by the by means we’re not likely gonna be welcome back there again—”

“What’s Sarasota when you’ve got Broadway?”

“Not only did we both, both,” he lowered his voice, very aware of the entertainment they were creating for the bartender, “have to put ourselves in positions where someone could have seen what we can really do just to barely make it on this train, but then we paid for our tickets a second time to sit in this cold, drafty club car while those girls are in our nice, warm beds?” He sighed, dropping his head. “Bucky…”

“When you put it like that…” He shrugged, somewhat deflated. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

Steve leaned back and slid down in his seat. “Remember when I said scam artist?”

“Oh, those girls—”

“Well, they’re not sisters,” Steve started, slightly annoyed.

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Just because they’re not sisters doesn’t mean—”

“They’re putting us on, Buck!”

“—they are trying to get one over on us!” Bucky leaned across the little table, setting his elbows down and softening his voice. “Where’s the Steve who would do something nice just because, huh?”

“He’s tired, and was looking forward to a nice, comfortable bed,” Steve replied, leaning in. “Part of me wants to just go down there, open the door to Drawing Room A, and see who’s there.”

“And the other part of ya?” Bucky asked gently.

“The other part of me wants to just pass out here and pretend we’re on a troop transport.” He leaned back, closing his eyes and bouncing his head off the seat behind him. “This is only just a little softer.” He sighed, keeping his eyes closed and settling down, crossing his arms like he used to do in the back of the big transports after missions. “Why’d ya do it?”

Bucky sighed softly, sitting back up tall. He drummed his fingers on the table for a second. “They needed our help,” he started, the explanation lame even to his ears. He just shrugged when Steve opened one eye and raised an eyebrow at him. “Fine. Cause they’re cute. And Angie’s funny. And Peggy’s a real doll and I thought maybe you two were getting along pretty well and maybe if I did something like this…”

“Maybe instead of being worried about the girls scamming us I should be worried about you.” Steve closed his eye, settling down again. “She ain’t no Granny Hilda,” he mumbled.

The door to the club car opened with the woosh of the air pushing past it, and Bucky turned to see who came in. Angie and Peggy stood at the end of the room, pressing their hair back into place as he kicked Steve under the table.

Steve jumped up, ready to scold Bucky as the girls moved towards them.

“Golly, you two move fast!” Angie exclaimed, sliding into the booth next to Bucky without invitation. She eyed Steve, “I almost expected it from you, but you!” She leaned into Bucky just a little. “That’s was quite a show there.”

Peggy pulled at Angie’s arm, a frustrated smile on her face. “We didn’t want to intrude,” she tugged at Angie again, who just slipped her arm from her grasp, “but we wanted to thank you, Mr. Rogers.”

His confusion was real. “Thank me?”

“Oh, yeah!” Angie turned to him, still bubbly. “We were watching the terminal, hopin’ you’d make it. After all, we’d feel bad if you didn’t after you gave us your tickets.”

Steve knew Bucky gave the tickets up, but it didn’t make sense for the girls to be thanking him so ardently. He tried to shake the cobwebs of impending sleep from his brain. “Gave--?”

“It was beyond generous that you insisted we take them.” Peggy looked down at him with a soft smile, one that gave him all kinds of ideas, tilting her head at Bucky. “Mr. Barnes told us it was your idea, and that you insisted we take them.”

“Did he now?” Steve eyed his friend, who was looking away conveniently. Maybe it wasn’t a scam, but Bucky was indeed playing some kinda game with him and these girls.

“It’s just so nice to meet two stand up guys in this business, you know? Every time you turn around someone’s looking to scam you or lie their way to the top.” Angie added, her excitement abated and her genuine personality shining through more. Steve couldn’t help but feel some of his frustration and anger drain at his words: it was like she knew what he was worried about, and wanted to get all their cards on the table. “It really was just so kind and wonderful of you.”

Looking into Angie’s honest eyes, and Peggy’s adoring gaze, Steve found it was really hard to hold on to even the tiniest bit of righteous anger. He slid over, patting the seat next to him as he gave up and decided to try to enjoy their company. “Have a seat. You, uh, want a drink or a sandwich or something?”

Peggy sat next to him demurely, and Steve pretended not to see Bucky’s satisfied smile across the table. “Oh, no, we just—”

“Oh, I’d love a malted!” Angie waved at the bartender, who hadn’t quite stopped listening, but was doing a good job of pretending. He nodded as she turned back to the table, “English, you were saying you were just dying for a cup, weren’t you?”

“English?” Bucky asked.

Peggy winced. “True,” she replied, her accent once again slipping, “On both counts I’m afraid.”

“So, he really wasn’t putting me on when he said you weren’t sisters.” Bucky looked back and forth between them. “You look close enough.”

“Was enough to get us a few good gigs,” Angie added in, “but we’re only sisters in spirit.”

The bartender stepped up to the table, and Peggy ordered a cup of tea, while Steve and Bucky put in for coffee along with Angie’s malted. It wasn’t until the bartender stepped away that Steve sat up taller. “You think not being sisters is a shock, wait until you find out who she is.”

Bucky leaned back, looking over her playfully. “You tell me the Queen of England and I know you’re lying, pal.”

Steve opened his hands wide, presenting Peggy like he was one of the USO girls presenting him back in the day, “Bucky, I’d like to introduce you to SSR Agent Margaret Carter, Phillip’s inside man on the raid into Schmidt’s headquarters.”

It took a moment for the words to sink in, and the smile drained from Bucky’s face until his chin was left hanging. “No shit.” Bucky gaped at her, looking her up and down. At Peggy’s surprised look, he sat back, closing his mouth. “Sorry- sorry for the language but… you’re Phillip’s inside man?”

Peggy looked around before nodding, the urge to keep her status secret even after she’d been out of the SSR for so long. “I was feeding information to the 107th for years. Phillips and I worked together for a long time before Steve was brought to Lehigh.”

“In fact,” Steve continued, “I remembered her from there.” He smiled crookedly. “I saw her talking to Erskine.”

Bucky scrubbed his hands over his face. “You’re the dame! You’re the dame I saw arguing with Phillips in Schmidt’s headquarters.”

Peggy nodded, somewhat embarrassed. “I wanted to join in the liberation. He knew there was still work to be done.” She took a heavy breath. “They packed me in with the rest of the Hydra detainees and then let me out the next day. I was back to singing in bars and funneling the SSR information in less than a week.”

There was pain in her voice, and Steve wasn’t sure why. He wanted to know more, but also didn’t want to put a damper on the evening, not when she was sitting next to him and she was going where they were. “What are you doing in New York?” He asked, turning the conversation and hoping to put a smile back on her face.

Peggy looked up, grateful for the change in the conversation. “Oh, no, we’re not going to New York. We’re booked for the holidays.”

“Vermont,” Angie added with a small excited shift.

“Oh,” Steve shot Bucky a harsh look, “Vermont?”

“Oh, maybe you’ve heard of it!” Angie smiled. “The Columbia Inn, in Pine Tree.”

“Haven’t heard,” Steve replied, his eyes still set on Bucky, sarcasm dripping over every word. “Must be nice up there now. All the snow, and the trees and the fresh air… just the kinda thing we need, eh Buck?”

Bucky shrugged, ready to try to plead his case, but Angie beat him to it. “Oh, that’s perfect! You should come up for a couple of days!”

Steve pressed his lips together. He had an apartment waiting for him with a bed he hadn’t seen in months. “Well, I don’t—”

Peggy interrupted him, gently laying a hand on his. “Oh, I wish you could. I would be lovely to have someone to talk to about… well, everything.” She laughed a bit, pulling her hand away, suddenly self conscious at the looks they were getting from Angie and Bucky. She looked down at her lap. “I haven’t been able to share any war stories. They feel a bit bottled up there.”

Steve didn’t hesitate. He reached over and took her hand in his. “I bet you have great stories.”

She laughed, looking up and away, but clutching at his hand even though she couldn’t look at him. “Of handsy German officials, yeah. I’m sure they can’t compare to yours, they’re really not—”

“I want to hear them.” He cut her off gently, smiling as she looked over to him. “We can spare a few days.”

Steve caught Bucky’s smile and Angie’s contained excitement at their shared moment as he turned, sitting back as the bartender set the cups on the table.

#Steggy Secret Santa #Steggy Fic #3P's Fic #@steggyfanevents #@roboticonography

5 notes · View notes

tbzhours · 4 years ago

Text

the most magical places

haknyeon x you royal au, strangers to lovers au, fluff, a pinch of angst, implied smut

[summary] you like to see the snow in other countries but this one time, you didn’t get to see it until you met haknyeon [words] 4.8k

[notes] hello, dee @atbzkingdom! i am your theb secret santa! i feel like i haven’t been a good ss because we know each other and it’s so hard to not reveal myself;; i think we got slightly closer up until here and i really hope we can interact more into 2021! here’s my gift for you! i tried to match what you like and what you experience from our secret santa interaction! i hope you like it and i wish you a lovely holiday! love you ♡

and also special thanks to the creators of this ‘december to remember’ project! the owner who messaged me deactivated but i feel like this little project brought many of us closer to each other! have a safe and warm holiday, everyone! see you next year ♡

It was cold as you shivered by the food stand, picking out a warm bread to eat. You took a glance at the sky, wondering why there wasn't snow yet in this town because every year around this time when you visited, there was always snow. Could it be luck? You couldn’t tell because you’re from a country where it stays warm all year. Maybe the heat wanted to stay with you but you shook your head at how ridiculous your thoughts sounded.

“It’s supposed to snow tonight.” Haknyeon suddenly announced behind you. You turned around and watched him walk up to you. Your eyes were awestruck, they couldn’t leave him as you could see stars in his eyes, along with that smirk. Somehow, you didn’t feel cold anymore when he seemed to be waiting for your reply.

He turned away from you to the vendor, ordering a soft warm bread like yours then he noticed you still hadn’t looked away or said anything. He faced his body the same way as yours, watching the people dance at the center of the town square while the musicians played christmas melodies. The scene looked very animated, vibrant, full of excitement. It was very different from your town but the energy was there. You could hear it as your eyes turned gentle.

“You don’t look like you’re from here.” Haknyeon commented, taking a bite of his warm bread. He noticed how different your clothes were, perhaps the design that wasn’t commonly worn in his town.

“I’m not from here.” You finally said, almost too excitedly. Your cheeks tinted up when he suddenly laughed.

“No wonder. You couldn’t stop looking at me just now. No one does that here.” He joked, biting into his food again.

“I did that? Ah, sorry about that.” You tilted your head away, looking at the ground with the tip of your toes twisting behind your other foot.

“It’s alright.” He assured you then he smiled widely. “I’m Haknyeon. What is your name and your origin?”

You told him your name and the town you were from. “It’s just a whole day away by boat.”

He repeated your name and town softly, eyes moving to the side as if he was trying to imprint them into his mind. He sighed through his nose with a cold air appearing in the air. His lashes blinked as he looked back at you to ask, an assumption because it was common during this time of the year. “Are you here for a vacation?”

“I guess you could say that.” You smiled, dashing looks at the ground to shy away from his stare. “Where I’m from is summer year round. Every winter, I’ve been traveling to other towns to see the snow, like here.” You looked up at the sky, sighing in disappointment. “But it hasn’t come yet.”

“Have you forgotten what I said?” He teased in a whisper. “It’ll snow soon.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” You didn’t know why his words sounded so reassuring but your lips resembled his. “So, what do you do?” You asked. You noticed it since he predicted the forecast. His hair was wet and wavy, split right in the middle where the two ends covered his temples. His winter outfit was just like any other men in town where his brown cloak was long enough to cover his knees to keep warm. At a quick glance, you couldn’t tell what he does for a living.

“If I tell you I’m a royal guard at the palace, would you believe me?” Haknyeon asked, grinning widely when the crowd got louder from the fun. Everyone was gathering at the middle of the square and the festive cheer made you look before you gasped back at him.

“You’re a royal guard from the palace? And you’re allowed out here?” You were surprised but you sounded mellifluous to him. He took your hand, pulling you toward the dancing crowd because it was part of the song where everyone dances together.

“Of course, I am. It’s not some typical fairytale you read about. Now come on, you have to experience this if you’re here for a vacation.” Haknyeon laughed when he looked back at you. “I’ll teach you how to do this too. It’s quite easy.”

Haknyeon was right: the dance was easy to follow. You glanced a few times at him when he wasn’t looking because he was looking at your feet to see if they were moving the same as his. As you both danced along, hand-in-hand, you learned that the royal guards at this town were allowed to come out during non-working hours, which were from sunset to sunrise, and sometimes, they can switch duty hours if they want to. As for you, he learned that you’re a drawer, a painter to be exact, though you couldn’t bring your tools over as you wanted to take a break to focus on the travel. Hearing your passion, he hoped to see some of your work one day.

It wasn’t until you told him you needed to head back when he asked if you were okay with him walking you. He was at your side as your hands were hidden inside your pockets minutes later after leaving the town square.

It was quiet as you were holding onto the bag of your bread. Haknyeon couldn’t help to burst a tiny giggle when the bag kept making a sound.

“Make sure to eat that when you get back. It’s probably cold right now.” Haknyeon said.

“Thanks, I will.” You smiled shyly at your moving feet when it got quiet again. You could hear your feet clicking on the ground, making a steady beat when he got curious.

“Say, did I ask where you were staying?” He asked, realizing that you were leading him when he offered to walk you home.

“I have a friend whose family owns an inn. I’m staying there until I go back.”

He nodded, humming along. “That must be nice.”

“It is. His family is very welcoming and he has a beautiful partner, though they’re out of town right now for business. He gets lonely sometimes but he has a son who keeps him busy.” You glanced at him before you noticed he’s been listening with his eyes. He smiled before you continued, “I can show you where it is. It’s just down this way.”

When you both reached the Inn, which was next to a few shops that were closed for the day, Haknyeon stood in front of you and asked, “I forgot to ask, when are you leaving?”

“In about a week.” Your lips slightly curved to one side. “Why?”

“It’s just-” He paused, suddenly hesitant but he continued anyway. “I don’t know when we will meet again but if you have time, there will be a winter ball at the palace in two days. I think you might enjoy how beautiful the night looks with all of the lights and snow.”

You calculated the date in your head. “The 24th of December?”

“Yes, at sunset.” Haknyeon chuckled softly. “I wish to show you so you have to come and see it.”

“I’ll think about it.” You smiled at him, knowing you both would have to part now.

“Then… Have a good night, (Y/N).” His cheeks were rosy when his smile bloomed. You adored how warm his voice was. It made you want to make him stay but you held back.

“You too.” You smiled back. “Thank you for tonight.”

Haknyeon soon walked away, heading home but he turned around and made sure to tell you again, “Look out for the snow.”

Haknyeon gave one last long look with a lingering smile still on his face. He really hoped to see you at the ball as he walked away and disappeared when he turned a corner.

You finally walked inside the Inn from the cold, but you weren’t shivering. Hyunjae noticed you there and waved at you with a greeting. “Hey, how was the festival?”

“It’s supposed to snow tonight.” You told Hyunjae, ignoring his question before walking up the stairs with the blushes on your cheeks. He didn’t see it but he blinked at himself for a second before he nodded with a shrug and a smiley frown on his face.

Right then, he looked at the window at his side and he couldn’t believe his eyes. It was snowing.

The next morning, Haknyeon could stop thinking about you. You were all up in his head in the middle of his private fencing lesson with Juyeon, the prince of the palace. They rallied at each other but Juyeon hit him the most. Once he won, he was smiling in surprise, almost goofy when he took off his mask.

“You’re really out of your mind.” Juyeon shook his head at Haknyeon.

Haknyeon followed his smirk, taking his mask off too as his wet hair fell to the sides of his forehead. “Am I, really?”

“Yeah.” Juyeon nodded close to him, fixing his own hair. “You never lose like this.”

Haknyeon chucked, shaking his head. “It’s just someone.”

“Just someone?” Juyeon teased. “You’re becoming like me.”

“I am not. You’re something else.” Haknyeon laughed then he mimicked how Juyeon reacts about his future lover. “Do you think she likes me? Maybe I’m just going insane, for her.”

“Hey!“ Juyeon shouted at how exaggerated he was. They both dropped their swords as he started to chase him around the room. Haknyeon’s laugh echoed when Juyeon threatened, though his voice became laughter when the chase got longer. “Tell me about this person before I demote you!!”

You couldn’t stop thinking about Haknyeon too, so you told Hyunjae all about it, about how you met this royal guard who asked you to the ball and how handsome he was. Even his way of words caught you staring. Hyunjae was glad to hear because every time you came to visit, you had always gone out alone, except when you hung out with him and his family.

“You need an attire to go. Did you bring anything fancy from home?” He asked, turning back from the front desk after giving a key to a returning customer. He didn’t remember seeing any attires from your last visit as you were sitting in a chair behind him. You just awkwardly smiled at him.

Hyunjae shook his head and asked his mother to take over before he led you to his room. His little boy was still sleeping on the bed as he passed by to open the closet for you.

“You can pick a few things. I’ll wait out of the room. Just knock.” He smiled and walked out.

It took you a few seconds to finally look through some of the outfits he had, and some that his partner left behind. Slowly, you got a few on at a time, letting Hyunjae and his son decide when he woke up.

His son shook his head many times each time you came out in an outfit that wasn’t his taste. Hyunjae awkwardly laughed and shrugged so you went back in the room until you found the one. The two nodded when you came out and you sighed in relief. You couldn’t wait to see Haknyeon.

That day quickly came. As you walked toward the crowd entering the entrance of the palace, your heart was racing. There was snow everywhere but the walkway was cleared out and once you were part of the elegant crowd, you noticed how the lights that led the way were shining brightly. Many people were laughing in cheers as they headed toward the palace. It made you wonder if Haknyeon was also waiting to see you.

Inside the palace, it was wide and spacious. The designs around the room were very gold and bright. The king was already waving from his balcony but the prince’s was still left empty. It almost made you feel awkward walking by yourself because everyone had their own partner. Yet, you still walked around the place, hoping to find him.

As for Haknyeon, he was with the Prince, Juyeon, waiting for him to get finished with dressing. When Juyeon turned around from the mirror, Haknyeon smiled cheekily. Juyeon’s attire was a white suit with a few golden harnesses hooked over his shoulders and down his chest. Haknyeon was in his royal guard suit, which was also white, except he didn’t have his sword with him.

“What do you think? Do you think she will like it?” Juyeon asked.

“I think…” Haknyeon had his fingers at his chin, tapping as he thought for a while. Juyeon sighed then Haknyeon whispered, “She’s gonna fall so bad for you.”

“Thanks.” He turned back to the mirror to check on his hair and face with his eyebrows furrowed on one side.

Haknyeon laughed at his funny expression then he stood next to him in front of the mirror and sighed loudly. “I’m serious though. You’re getting married to her and I can see how much she already adores you.”

Juyeon turned to him and patted his shoulders but held onto him as if he’s been holding in his distrust about his engagement. It wasn’t arranged but sometimes he just needed someone to give him assurance. He held his head down and peeked a smile at Haknyeon. “Thanks. Thank you for not mocking your future king, but I don’t need you by my side tonight.”

“What do you mean? I have to.” Haknyeon tilted his head, confused. Juyeon sighed when he let Haknyeon go.

“I’m saying, you should go enjoy the ball too. It’s not like you get to every year. Beside, there’s someone you can’t forget.” Juyeon explained but Haknyeon was still speechless. Though it was his duty to be close to Juyeon at every event, he didn’t know Juyeon would allow it, but Haknyeon would gladly follow Juyeon’s words because he was going to be the next king of this town. Juyeon smiled at him and gave his last order for the night. “You’re off duty tonight. Go have some fun.”

“I won’t let you down.” Haknyeon played along as Juyeon laughed and shook his head.

And so, Haknyeon walked down in his royal guard attire, not needing to change. He waved at a few guards who were also off for the night though some had to solely stay within the palace for security. Some holiday carols were being played in the background as he walked to each side of the main floor, greeting some people he knew. Each time the conversation ended, he peeked around just to see if you were around.

For a second, he was going to lose hope. He was smiling quite uneasily, though understanding but when he turned around, he found you through the crowd.

You could see how surprised he was when he saw you. His lips turned into a big smile as he made his way to you. He didn’t know how long you had been looking but there was a tiny bit in him that you’ve been looking for him too.

His hair was brushed straight down over his forehead, unlike his natural waves from the other day and to top it off with that white outfit, you couldn’t find any words to tell how different he looked. He looked like a new person, but with those eyes, they were the same from the way they looked at you that night.

“You made it.” Haknyeon said after his eyes gazed into yours for a second. There went those stars again and you grinned widely.

“I did.” You closed your lips into a soft smile, shy with your confession. “You look quite different today."

"Well, thank you." Haknyeon chuckled softly. He never thought he’d ever hear you compliment first that he found you a little cute. He noticed your attire. It was really elegant, much like other people in the room but from you, it was much more to him. "You look beautiful too.”

“Thank you.” You smiled shyly with a hand wiping at your thigh.

Haknyeon peeked behind you, as if someone was looking at him. You didn't follow his eyes and stayed until he looked back at you.

The music changed because Juyeon and his to-be wife became the eye of the room as he led her to the center of the room.

“That’s Juyeon, the prince of this palace. He’s becoming king soon, and that’s his love.” Haknyeon looked at you and you both stared at each when he continued, “He’s not so sure of their love for each other, but when you look at them, you can tell.”

It was as if you could hear his heart beating when those stars appeared again. The moment didn’t last long when people started to move back to give room for the dance floor. Haknyeon quickly took your hand so you both wouldn’t be apart. He held your hand close to his chest and when everyone stopped moving, he let your hand go. You curled your hand, still wanting to hold his.

“You must be close to the prince then.” You commented, smiling a small one.

“I am.” He grinned, watching the two lovers dance the first official song of the night. He sneaked close to you to whisper a funny joke. “I keep running away from him so now I’m his most wanted royal guard.”

“You’re quite the stealer then.”

“The stealer of what?” Haknyeon asked, meeting your eyes again. The stealer of my heart. Your heart kept dropping each time he did that. You got distracted when the song changed. His eyes widened and his face bloomed excitedly. “You cannot miss this chance to be dancing in the palace.”

“Why?” You asked, curiously scared.

“There’s a myth that every lover on the dance floor falls in love when this song comes on.” Haknyeon took out his hand to you and you didn’t know if you should trust his words. His smile seemed promising that you wouldn’t mind letting him hold your heart. With him, you weren’t as scared as before. He finally asked. “Would you like to take this dance with me?”

You wanted the myth to be true, so you took his hand without any regrets.

Haknyeon walked you to the dance floor, following other couples. You both dance together for a moment as you warmed up to follow his steps since you weren’t familiar with the song. He held onto your hand firmly each time you slipped. Your face burned up whenever you found him smirking.

“Don’t you do this every year?” You asked since he’s been in the palace for a while, you didn’t know how long.

“No, this year is special because the prince is finally getting married.” He was still staring at you because that’s what dancers do. Maybe you weren’t quite the dancer when you looked away, scoffing lightly at his wit.

“You must be lying.”

“It’s much more of a joke.” Haknyeon chuckled then he smiled. “At least I made you smile.”

Now, you started to realize it was your heartbeat from before, and not his. It was loud and you didn’t know how to make it go away. You held onto his hand tighter nervously.

You suddenly remembered what he told you the night you both met and quickly changed the subject. “Anyway, you mentioned lights and snow. I don’t see it here.”

“That’s because we’re inside the walls.” He sneaked a whisper to your ear. He could feel the heat coming from your face, that maybe you wanted to get out of here with him. He moved back and set your locked hands down. He nodded his head away to one side, “Come on.”

Haknyeon took you to a balcony in the palace where he’d always go to watch the lights, no matter what season. It always looks beautiful at night and he had to admit, it was the best view of the town.

It was chilly, of course, but he was right: you had to come see the lights from the town and how the snow complimented it. Star bloomed in your eyes and you couldn’t stop gazing at the beautiful sight, except you felt like something was missing. The stars. You couldn’t see them at all and all you saw was a future of your upcoming last day here.

You sat on a bench from the balcony while he was still gazing at the sight. You had a frown on your lips when he turned back at you.

“Why the sad face?” He asked.

“I’m leaving this town soon.”

“You still have a few days.” He smiled reassuringly, then he leaned onto the stone rail and set his hands in his pockets. He sighed, resonating with you. “It’ll be nice for you to live in a country that has all 4 seasons so you don’t always have to move around to experience them.”

You smiled softly, feeling thankful. You were usually okay with leaving when it was time to, but because of Haknyeon, he made you want to stay.

Haknyeon suddenly laughed, joking, “What if you missed the boat because I wouldn’t mind to stall you to miss it.”

“You’re very funny.” You shook your head with the same smile glued on your face, rejecting his silly joke.

Haknyeon crossed his arms and tilted his head when something came to his mind. “Since you won’t let me stop you, how about I take you somewhere magical? No duties, just you and me.”

You thought this view was already magical enough but you also wondered what else was there?

It got colder when you both reached the beach beside the boats where you took. You could see all three things: the lights from the town, the snow that piled upon each surface, and the stars across the ocean. You wondered if he had read your mind when you were still awed at half the night sky.

“Isn’t it magical?” Haknyeon asked excitedly as he followed you from behind after you ran toward the water.

“Are you some kind of wizard or something?” You asked, turning back at him with a smirk on your red cheek. “Because it is.”

“I can show you more places before you leave.” Haknyeon offered, one of his hands holding onto a coat that he made sure to grab on the way out of the palace.

You were walking backwards but it slowed and you stopped to look at the snowy sand. “I’ll think about it.”

“Going solo.” Haknyeon walked up to you and set the coat over your shoulders. “Let me know if you need any recommendations.”

There were so many thoughts going through you. He stood next to you as you both admire the sky longer.

Haknyeon walked you to the Inn after the little night adventures and when you both reached there, you didn’t want to let him go.

“Here we are.” Haknyeon announced as you turned around to face him. He was shivering and his cheeks were pale but pink. “I hope you enjoyed tonight.”

“I did. Thank you.” You smiled. “Tonight was wonderful.”

“I’m glad.” Haknyeon's voice got softer. There was hesitance again. His eyes lingered at you, longing for more but it was already time to part. “If you ever need me while you’re still here, I’m right at the palace.” You nodded at him then he proposed farewell. “Have a good night, (Y/N).”

“Good night, Haknyeon.” You tendered. Your smiles were filled with sadness that you didn’t want him to turn away. Before he could, you called out his name again. His eyes were large at the sound of your blaring voice. You sighed softly, hoping he wouldn’t reject your request. A moment went by, staring into each other’s eyes with so much longing before you pleaded. “Stay with me.”

So Haknyeon did, until sunrise. As he kissed you that night in your room, you confessed to him, ”You know, I was going to pretend that I didn’t know this town well and thought it would be fun to have you show me around...”

“So you already know the best places in this town?” He asked, surprised with an astonished smirk on his face. You nodded your head once with a playful smile then before he collided his lips with yours again, he chuckled, “You’re magical.”

Haknyeon took you to places he enjoys going to, as well as you showing him hidden places in case he didn’t know since he’s mostly in the palace during the day. Your night outs were adventurous, like running hand-in-hand in the fallen snow, biting into each other’s food, riding his white horse on the palace grounds, and kissing in the hidden alleys. Haknyeon never knew you could take him to places he had never been, like your heart.

When you caught him staring at one of the food stands at another festival at the town square, you grinned against the breeze. Your nose was getting red and he couldn’t help to laugh about it. He pulled you closer as you both selected the food you wanted.

It was finally the day you were going to leave and it’s sentimental because it’s probably the first time you both met when the sun’s out. Haknyeon stood in front of you with so many words he wanted to say to make you stay, especially trying to reason with Juyeon that he had to really go that morning.

Love makes everyone so insane, Haknyeon recalled the prince’s words, and he was right, because look at where Juyeon was now.

Haknyeon smiled at the thought but gazing into your eyes, he might think he’s the one going insane this time.

“Will you come visit again?” He asked, rubbing your hand in his.

You’ve visited many places but there were not that could beat this place. “Of course. You are my favorite place.”

“I wonder what your country looks and feels like.” He chuckled.

“Why don’t you come visit me?” You teased him how he always did with you.

“I can when I talk to Juyeon again. He wants to keep me here.”

“Like how you do with me.” You giggled but you knew that couldn’t happen. You didn’t want to leave your country forever yet. Even though you could see a future with Haknyeon, you still needed time to think about how this would work. You sighed a long one, releasing a white breath from your nose. “I’m going to miss you so much.”

“So will I.” Haknyeon pulled you into a hug, his hand cupping behind your head while the other still held onto your hand. You closed your eyes, inhaling his scent one last time before you both pulled back after a long while. You were about to bid your goodbye but he pulled something out of his pockets. He opened your palm and set a ring necklace there. The ring rested softly on your skin while the necklace fell off the side of your hand. His eyes couldn’t leave the ring when he confessed, trying not to choke on his voice. “I got you this. I just wanted to make sure no one else proposes to you before I do.”

“Are you trying to stall me?” Your voice curled up into a grin. Your eyes were teary but no tear fell. When he met your eyes, the stars never left him.

“I wish.” Haknyeon chuckled, his eyes softly blooming with the sunrise at the ends of the ocean. He could tell you missed home from the crystals in your eyes. He closed your hand and held onto it tightly, rubbing his thumb on it as he smiled reassuringly, “I will properly propose to you when we meet again.”

You held in your tears but you managed to smile widely, just as Haknyeon always wished you could when you’re with him. “I love you.”

“I love you so much more.” Haknyeon gave you one last kiss, holding his lips against yours as if his life held onto it. Instead of saying goodbye, he told you, “See you again.”

You both parted for the last time and until he was no longer in sight when the boat moved away, you painted him in your head and marked him there like you would on a paper.

You took the ring off the necklace and slipped it through your ring finger, how perfectly it fit. This wasn’t a goodbye because you would see him again. It wasn’t now but it was soon. You just couldn’t wait.

#the boyz #the boyz scenarios #the boyz imagines #haknyeon #deobiwritersnet #tbznetwork #tbz scenarios #tbz imagines #tbz #juhaknyeon #ju haknyeon #royalty au #royal au #fluff #implied smut #note: the goodbye/see you again was insp by mr.sunshine

103 notes · View notes

mokkemusic · 4 years ago

Text

Did you hear the rumor about the naughty Mokke that got turned into cookies?

MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE! I offer you a crack fic with hints of fluff. PEASE this is just in good fun and I debated about posting this so please just take this with a big grain of salt! This was meant for some Christmas surprises but I decided to share it here as well cause we can all use a laugh.

SPECIAL THANKS to @thehopeelias who not only did this precious art! But helped me over many nervous breakdowns with my Christmas surprises for special people on here! I didn’t participate in secret santa however I am so so happy I got to celebrate it with everyone I love so so much! MERRY CHRISTMAS! Heres a sweet treat.

Warning: This contains some violence to Santa and Stealing from needy children (Mokke cannot be trusted). Read with caution :P lol

_____________________________________________________________________

“Did you hear the rumor about the naughty Mokke that got turned into cookies?”

‘‘Twas the night before Christmas and at Santa’s workshop four little Mokke decided to take it upon themselves to change the naughty list. So they decided to work together and go to the North Pole to right this wrong. They had one very special wish they needed Santa to fulfill for them. But every year Santa never showed and their wishes never came true.

“I want be one of the Seven Mysteries!”

“Please Santa we’ll be good leaders!”

“We’ll only make all the humans work in the candy garden 5 times a day!”

“And we’ll promise to feed them!”

“PLEASE SANTA!”

Unfortunately when the Mokke spoke up on murder and conspiracy, not to mention servitude, Santa did not think this was a conducive idea. He banished all Mokke from ever being on the nice list again.

Poor little Mokke. Should we take it at heart that they have good intentions?

The Mokke couldn’t tolerate this any longer and planned a journey to Santa’s workshop. With the help of their favorite candy givers, The Broadcast Club, they were able to use one of the Boundaries to open a door to the North Pole.

It was as cold as ice and the journey was treacherous. The only nourishment in their stomachs was a lollipop consumed 5 hours ago. They would have stopped to nibble on the candy cane path that led the way but Christmas was only a few hours away and they were racing against the clock.

“I’m cold.”

“Shut up.”

“We can steal all the mittens when we take over the world!”

Finally, after what seemed like centuries, there was a beacon of light!

A warmth in their bellies!

A shimmer to the their little beady eyes!

They arrived at Santa’s Workshop!

“We made it!”

“Yay! Let’s kill Santa!”

Unfortunately, having the attention span of a flea, their kleptomaniac selves could not resist the temptation of stealing, at Santa’s workshop nonetheless. They ran straight for the Toys For Tots bin. They pummeled the fluff out of the dolls and bears, extracted the batteries from all the electronics, and even took scissors to the gift cards. It was all just they believed. Little kids all over the world would loose their faith in Santa, and all the toys and wishes would be theirs!

But their commotion filled antics were not silent and as they played and wreaked havoc, a team of elves were ready and waiting with support units to catch the intruders. Their radios emitted static panic throughout the workshop.

“Peppermint this is sugar cookie come in please. We got a situation. Yes…I know I didn’t finish the second coat on the rocking horse yet but this is an EMERGENCY! I need you to get Snickerdoodle and meet me on the first floor! Do we have a protocol for this?!”

The real threat of capture dawned on the Mokke as one of the elves leapt in the air and the Mokke fled for their lives.

“Their onto us!”

“SCATTER!”

And so…the chase was on!

A slight ping of worry started to ferment in their hearts.

“What do we do if we get caught?”

“We can always blame Number 7.”

“We’ll say he put us up to this.”

“He’s got some shady plans anyway. They’ll have to believe us.”

They hid behind all the display sleighs. They weaved though all the doors and ran up and down all the staircases and escalators until they suddenly found themselves in a room that was filed with candies and chocolates glowing and gleaming in brilliant magenta like the star topper of a Magnificent Christmas tree.

All thoughts of destruction and of stealth at escaping the clutches of elves were replaced only by thoughts of ravenous hunger and sheer happiness at the fortune they found. Their tummies rumbled and drool dribbled from their invisible mouths.

Not a single brain cell in sight as they cannon balled into a sea of confection heaven, oblivious to the sign that screamed in bright bold letters

ELF EXPERIMENTATION KITCHEN

TESTING IN PROGRESS

DO NOT CONSUME

They munched munched munched away until they said…

“I can’t move.”

“I don’t feel so good.”

“I can’t feel my ears.”

At that very moment the elves caught up, hands on their knees gasping for breath; too many hours making toys doesn’t leave a lot of time for cardio. They looked over the trays of candies and amidst the sweetness lay four pink sugar cookies that looked really familiar.

The elves gazed in amazement as they realized what just happened.

“Snickerdoodle come here please…I can’t move I’m still on the floor. Get Dr. Gum Drop and tell him the current candy project needs to be terminated immediately.”

The elf picked up the once Mokke, now a pillar of sugar and flour and Red Dye #40, and turned to his fellow brethren and said…

“Anyone got a glass of milk?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“…And that’s the story of how the naughty Mokke got turned into cookies.”

“You’re lying!”

“That never happened!”

The Mokke huffed in protest as their Christmas tale turned to horror.

Hanako sat on the window sill as the Mokke jumped on his hat and arms.

“Oh really? You think I’m lying? Then why do I have…THIS?!” He put the cookie to his lips biting off the Santa hat covered ear.“You guys aren’t as good as donuts but you’ll do.”

The Mokke’s eyes went wide with terror and they fled from the girls’ bathroom as Hanako let out a grinch like chuckle.

“Hanako Kun!” Nene Yashiro called to him skipping into the bathroom with bells and all the Christmas spirit. “Did you get the Mokke cookies I made?”

He held up the cookie with a now amputated ear as he gazed at the floor. A blush as red as Rudolph’s nose flooded his cheeks. “They were delicious Yashiro. Thank you for this.”

“I made you some Hakujoudai too.” She giggled. “I am just glad you like em.”

He stood up. Held his hat in his hands and hugged her, flush to his chest. “I love them.”

#hananene #toilet bound hanako kun #jibaku shounen hanako kun #secret santa #jshk #tbhk #jshk crack fic

62 notes · View notes

angst-fairygodmother · 4 years ago

Text

Happy Holidays (Nathan Young x Reader)

A/N: Just a fun little Christmas party with the crew, referencing some things from the Christmas Special but not most of them, because we’re pretending they had a bit more of a nice, normal holiday. Winter Prompts: Gingerbread; Mistletoe Word Count: 2118 Cross Posted to AO3: here

Humming along to the carols belting out from the tv speakers in the next room, you bustled about the kitchen. Nathan had been barred from “assisting” you today while you made a variety of treats to bring to Simon and Alisha’s Christmas Eve get together later, after he ate as much of your sugar cookie dough as you managed to get onto the baking sheet. Your friends had been surprised when you offered to handle all of the desserts for the shindig, but you loved to bake and always looked for any excuse to. Besides, it had been a while since you’d done something elaborate, and you had a plan that, honestly, your friends would probably just dub cheesy.

The plan was gingerbread, but you set aside seven of the cutouts that you were going to turn into cookie-portraits. You wanted to make sure these were perfect, carefully rolling bits of gingerbread to create Nathan and Alisha’s curls, using a fine-point food color pen to draw on Curtis’s cross, custom mixing the shade of blue icing for Simon’s eyes. It was incredibly time-consuming, but honestly, you loved the work, and couldn’t wait to see their faces.

You were piping icing on some of the more generic gingerbreads when Nathan’s voice startled you, making you jump and leave a mess of icing smeared across one.

“Y/N!” you boyfriend whined from the next room. “Ye must be done by now. Ye’ve been at it for hours and I’m so bored!”

“Have you wrapped the gifts?” you called back.

You had a pretty good guess what his answer would be, but you weren’t letting him get away with doing no work to get ready for the party, or for Christmas dinner with his mom and her boyfriend (a prospect that still had you sweating, since this would be your first time meeting them as Nathan’s girlfriend).

“Why d’ they need ta be wrapped? It’s just gonna get torn off again. Figured we’d just stuff em in some leftover takeaway bags.”

“Nathan, we are not wrapping our presents to our friends and family in shopping bags.” You came to the kitchen doorway to glare at him, hands planted on your hips.

Suddenly he sat up from where he lounged on the couch, looking at you with a hungry gaze that made you swallow nervously, even as your stomach twisted in anticipation.

“Ya know,” he mused, running his tongue over his bottom lip, “I’m not one for food in the bedroom, but I might make an exception with ya lookin all cute and frostinged like that.”

“Don’t even start. I know what you’re trying to do, and it’s not going to work,” you scolded.

He quirked an eyebrow, rising to his feet and stepping closer, a challenge written across his face.

“Isn’t it?” he asked, smirking as he got close enough that he was looming over you.

“Simon and Alisha’s party is in an hour and I’m nowhere near ready, the cookies aren’t done, and you still need to wrap the gifts for Secret Santa. I will not be distracted.”

“Yer face says otherwise. I see the way yer checking out the goods.” He leaned in, eyes drifting to your mouth. “We can be quick. Or fashionably late.”

“No. Absolutely not. I know how hard Alisha worked putting the whole thing together, I am not ruining it by being late because you're too horny for your own good.”

Suddenly he surged forward, licking a long stripe along your cheek. Recoiling, you grimaced and wiped aggressively at your face in an attempt to get the saliva off.

“What the fuck was that?!”

“I told ye, you look good enough to eat, all covered in frosting. Even better than the cookies. Couldn't help myself.” He shrugged, shoving his hands nonchalantly in his jeans pockets.

“You're disgusting.”

“Ye love it.” He grinned cheekily at you.

As much as you hated to admit it sometimes, he was right. Rolling your eyes, you headed back into the kitchen to finish decorating the gingerbread, trying your best not to think about his tongue on your skin, cheek or elsewhere.

“You didn't have to wear the sweater, you know,” you teased Nathan as the two of you rode the elevator up to Simon and Alisha's loft.

“I know, but ye gave it to me, so it's special. Plus it'll drive the others nuts with how hideous it is!” He chuckled, pre-amused at their reactions.

“Terrible,” you said, shaking your head ruefully.

He blew you a cheeky kiss before hauling open the door and making an ‘after you’ gesture. The next few moments were a blur of greeting hugs - especially from Alisha who was so excited to be able to actually hug you that she actually willingly gave one to Nathan as well - and being bustled about to set your things down (coats on the bed, presents under the tree, goodies on the counter). Keeping the littlest box with you, you sat down on the couch, and your friends gathered round curiously.

“I went a little overboard,” you said sheepishly as everyone settled in, Kelly on one side of you and Curtis on the other, the others taking up whatever spaces they could. “So...I made y’all something.”

They all leaned in as you worked the lid off the little tin, revealing your gingerbread creations.

“Oh!” Kelly shouted in surprise. “Y’ made little gingerbread us?”

“They’re so cute!” Alisha added, reaching in.

You grinned, passing them around, particularly enjoying Nikki’s shock that you had made one of her too.

“Of course I did,” you answered with a shrug. “You’re one of us now.”

“I didn’t know you could bake like this,” Curtis said, inspecting the details on his cookie.

You shrugged. “It’s just art in another medium. I love to, though. Used to want to open a bakery as a kid.”

You felt a familiar green gaze on you, Nathan watching in surprise and delight that there was still more for him to learn about you after all your time together.

“But you didn’t make one of yourself?” Simon asked.

“Yeah, I ran out of dough. Besides...self-portraits never come out well.”

“Is it cannibalism to eat these?” Nathan asked suddenly. “Because they look delicious.”

“Since it’s yourself, it would be autocannibalism,” Simon corrected.

“Unless you’re made of gingerbread, I don’t think it’s anything,” Nikki countered, rolling her eyes. “Except enjoying a cookie.” She turned to you and offered a rare smile. “It really was sweet, Y/N, thanks.”

You sipped at your eggnog, feeling warm and tingly from the heavy dose of rum Nathan had included when he poured it for you, amusing yourself by conjuring mistletoe over your friends’ heads at random. Curtis and Nikki seemed done with your antics after you had made them kiss about four times (every time Nikki seemed about to start in on Nathan), and you had played it safe with Kelly and Andrew since you weren’t sure where their relationship stood (still in that adorable newborn awkwardness if both their blushes were anything to judge by). Alisha and Simon on the other hand seemed thrilled by your game, basking in the sheer joy of being able to touch each other and happy to kiss as often as you grew something to prompt it.

Suddenly, Nathan flopped down beside you, bouncing the whole sofa as he brought his curly head to rest on your shoulder.

“I’m bored, Y/N,” he whined.

“You’re always bored, Nathan. Unless we’re shagging. And I’m not about to do that here,” you countered, rolling your eyes.

“Yeah, I’ve noticed,” he grumbled.

“Excuse me?”

He was silent, and you could feel him shift uncomfortably, settling further into the cushions and crossing his arms petulantly.

“Nathan…” you said threateningly, ready to demand he talk to you if you had to and sleep on that very couch if he wouldn’t.

“I just can’t help noticin’,” he grumbled. “That everyone else is gettin’ plenty o’ kisses, courtesy of ye, but I’m not gettin’ any.”

You laughed. “When you say it like that it sounds like I’ve been snogging all of our friends.”

“That’s not what I mean. But I’m glad my pain amuses ya.”

You rolled your eyes, still laughing at his dramatics. But he was right about one thing. Somehow you two had managed to go the whole party without kissing. Suddenly he thrust himself up off the sofa, still clearly frustrated.

“I’m gettin’ more cookies,” he said, half-storming off.

“Is he really upset that you haven’t spent the whole party snogging him?” Alisha said a moment later, sitting down in the spot Nathan had vacated.

“Apparently,” you sighed. “I should probably go talk to him…”

“Let him stew for a bit,” she said with a shake of her head. “He’s an ass and totally deserves it.”

Twenty minutes later, you were surprised to notice that Nathan still hadn’t come back, and glancing around the room, that there was no sign of him. Your gut twisting nervously at the idea that he might have actually been upset with you, you started asking around to see if anyone knew where he’d gotten to. Curtis told you that he went out for a smoke and you grimaced, sliding your boots back on to follow your errant boyfriend.

“Nathan?” you called into the darkness, squinting to see if you could spot any sign of him and shivering at the winter chill. “Are you out here?”

“Over here,” he answered.

Following the sound of his voice, and now spotting the faint glow of orange from the end of his cigarette, you made your way over to where he leaned against the side of the building.

“Hey,” you said, pausing to stand in front of him, hands shoved into the pockets of your jeans.

“What are ye doing out here, Y/N?” he asked, reaching out to pull you closer.

Instinctively, you stepped into his space. Trying not to let him feel you shiver, you wrapped your arms around his waist under his coat, feeling immediately warmer.

“Looking for you. I felt bad about our little tiff earlier…” you admitted sheepishly.

“Ah, don’t worry about it. It was my fault anyways.”

You bit your lip, hating how sad he sounded when he said it and afraid it was about to turn into one of those self-deprecating moments.

“We’re supposed to be partners. I should have been paying more attention to how you were feeling,” you argued.

“What I’m feelin like right now is that we should get inside before ye turn into a popsicle.”

“Nathan, I’m serious.”

“So am I, Y/N. It’s fine, let’s just go back up.” He wrapped an arm around you to hold you closer and leaned in to purr in your ear. “Unless you’re ready to blow the place and go home? I can finally give you your Christmas present?”

You shivered with desire as much as the cold. “I left my coat upstairs.”

“Who cares? I’ll keep ye warm while we walk.”

“It’ll take two minutes to go back for it. And then we can say goodnight.”

“Fine, but I’m only comin with to make sure ye don’t get dragged back into a conversation and forget.”

You sensed it before the elevator door even opened, and couldn’t help the sly smile that crept across your face.

“What’s with that look?” Nathan asked, arm still in place around your middle.

“Nothing,” you said impishly as you stepped out into the room.

For once your upward gaze wasn’t solely to look at your boyfriend, instead moving past him to the plant hanging above your heads.

“Well, that,” you said, nodding to it.

Thick brows knitted in confusion, he followed your eyes.

“Oh ho ho ho, what’s this then?” he turned back to you with a smirk. “Trying to con me inta kissin ye, are we?”

“Nope. That sprig? Wasn’t me.”

“What do ya think we should do then?”

“With all the shit we’ve been through this year, I can tell you what we shouldn’t do, and that’s tempt bad luck.”

Not wanting to give him a chance to respond (after all, banter was fun, but you had better things in mind), you stretched onto your tiptoes to plant your mouth on his. Kissing you back, Nathan tightened his grip to pull you flush against him and ran his tongue over your lower lip. Eagerly, you parted your lips for him and he groaned as your tongues danced together.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Nikki chimed in after a moment, reminding you that you and Nathan were still at a party and decidedly not alone. “Some of us want to keep down our Christmas dinner.”

#I just want them to have a nice chill time #no drama #no creepy Jesus guy #happy holidays #also revealing a bit more about the reader #and doing cute/silly things with her powers #Nathan Young x Reader #Misfits fic #winter prompts

46 notes · View notes

janeyseymour · 4 years ago

Text

Secret Santa

My wonderful friend Ay had an idea to do a white elephant with this bunch? I don’t really understand white elephant, so I changed it a bit, and uh... this was born. I hope you enjoy!

Every year since being reincarnated, the queens did a secret santa gift exchange. This year, they added the entire diner crew. Fluff ensues.

Christmas was coming, and as usual, Jane was in the Christmas spirit as much as anybody else.

“Every year, we do a secret santa exchange between the queens and I know for a fact the others wouldn’t mind if you and your family joined in on the fun!” the queen explained to her waitress friend.

“It honestly might be better that way,” Aragon let out a laugh. “We all end up finding out who our secret santa is before we exchange gifts anyway.”

“We’d love to do that!”

“Sounds great! So, we normally draw names, well... tonight. And then, on Christmas Eve we usually exchange gifts. Although, I’m sure we could do another night if you would rather celebrate Christmas Eve with just Lulu and Jim. You’re more than welcome to hang out with us that day too though! And oh, Becky, Dawn and Ogie will surely be around too right? Maybe even Cal? We’d be more than happy to have you all. Although, again, it really wouldn’t be offensive to us if-”

“Jane, you’re rambling.”

“Oh, dammit. Sorry,” the silver queen apologized.

“There’s really nothing to apologize for. We’d love to celebrate Christmas Eve with you, and I’m sure everyone would love to participate in the secret santa exchange!”

The group of thirteen gathered at the diner one night, ready to pick names out of a hat.

“Okay, the rule is, if you pick yourself, you have to redraw. We don’t need another situation like last year,” Jane laughed, giving a pointed look at the fourth queen. The previous year, Anna had picked herself and bought herself a new car- one she crashed and totalled approximately a week later.

“Oh god, don’t remind me Seymour,” the red queen groaned in embarrassment.

“Who’s first?” When no one made a move, the blonde looked towards the youngest one there. “Well Lu?”

The girl in pigtails stuck her hand in the bowl with all of the names and picked. Thankfully, she was excelling in her reading and knew how to read each and every person’s name there. She opened it up, not letting anybody see who she had, and grinned.

“You didn’t get yourself, right love?”

“Nope! I got the perfect person!” Jane. She had gotten her Aunt Janey.

The group continued to pick until everyone had someone. Nobody had gotten themselves, and everybody had kept it a secret.

“So the other rule is it has to fit in a plastic bag from the diner. That way, when everyone brings their presents over, it isn’t given away who had who based on the bag everyone carries in. “And yes, we learned this from previous years.”

Cathy laughed, fondly remembering the time she had figured out who had who based on the bags they all carried in and who ended up with the gift bags before they had even started opening presents.

“And one final thing, keep the name of the person you have in your hand. That’s the tag we use so we can’t identify others by their writing.” Kat let out a laugh, remembering she knew in previous years who her secret santa was based on handwriting alone.

And so, there they were on Christmas Eve, having eaten more than they had on Thanksgiving and laughing more than they ever had.

“Lu, are you excited for Santa to come?” Anne bounced the little one in her lap.

“I am! I hope Santa brings you guys everything you want too!” The girl beamed, always thinking of others. “Can we start our secret santa present thingy so I can go to bed so Santa can come?”

“I think that’s a great idea miss Lu!” Jenna beamed at her daughter. It was becoming a hassle to get her daughter to go to bed these days, so her wanting to go to bed was a welcomed change.

“So, how do you guys run this thing?” Becky looked towards Jane for guidance.

“Well, we usually all sit on the floor in a circle,” Jane began and gestured for everyone to move before continuing. “And since we all put our bags under the tree, why don’t we just all pass the bags out? Lulu can start since she’s the youngest, and then whoever her secret santa is can go next and so on. Who wants to play Santa this year?”

“Me!” Lulu’s hand shot up, and she was out of the second queen’s lap in an instant.

The little one had passed out everyone’s presents, and

“Go ahead little Lu,” Anne beamed, hoping that her younger friend would like her gift.

The girl opened her present with no hesitation, her mouth agape once she saw what was in the bag: a new apron with all of the queens’ assigned colors in stripes with the addition of a purple stripe. “Woah! This is amazing! Thank you secret santa! I love it!”

“Who do you think gave you the gift?” Jim questioned.

“I don’t know, but whoever did, thank you!” Lulu exclaimed, already having put the apron on proudly.

“Hun, the point of the game is to guess who gave you the gift,” Becky told her gently.

“Oh!” the girl laughed, a bit confused but happy to go along with the game. “I think... Lina!”

“Wasn’t me mija,” the first queen shrugged. “Guess again?”

“Aunt Janey?”

“Good guess love, but it wasn’t me either. One more guess,” the silver queen laughed.

“Annie?”

“Bingo!” The green queen exclaimed. Lulu immediately launched herself at the woman with space buns.

“Oh my gosh Annie, thank you so much! I love it!”

“I’m glad you like it! I worked pretty hard on it!” Nobody but Jane knew the truth in that statement. The second queen had caved and asked- no. begged- Jane to teach her how to sew in order to make this present.

“I love it! It has all of your colors from the show! But, what’s this purple here for?”

“Well, I figured, you might like to have your own color!”

(Lulu would claim her favorite color was purple for the rest of her life.)

“Okay Annie, it's your turn to open your present!”

“Wheels for my heelies? Bro! This could be anyone!”

“Look a little closer,” Becky stifled a laugh.

“What? Wait, turtles? This could only be from Dawn!”

“You caught me,” the waitress with glasses blushed.

(The silly queen would always make sure to put these wheels in when Dawn was around.)

“A new turtle pin!” Dawn grinned and happily attached it to her shirt. “Thank you to uh,” the waitress glanced at it and remembered all of the queens’ respected colors. “Catherine!”

“I think it’s safe to say everyone here has earned the right to call me Catalina, or even Lina,” the first wife said genuinely.

“Thank you Lina.” Dawn smiled at the nickname.

(That pin became her second favorite- right under the turtle pin that Ogie gave her as a wedding present.)

“These are beautiful.” The golden queen admired the beautiful earrings that she had received.

“Any guesses?”

“Jane?”

“It wasn’t me, and I really don’t know who it’s from,” the blonde said earnestly.

“Cathy?”

“Not from me.”

“Jenna?” The head waitress shook her head no.

“What the-”

“It’s from me,” the usually gruff cook said shyly as he raised his hand quietly.

“Thank you Cal.” Catherine went about taking her Christmas earrings out and putting her new ones in. “They’re beautiful.”

“I hope you like them.”

(Catherine wore them to a press junket. Cal noticed and smiled to himself. He was glad she liked them enough to wear on a red carpet. When the gold queen was asked about the beautiful earrings, she was happy to tell the world a close friend named Cal gave them to her.)

“A new apron? And a new spatula?” Cal looked confused. In reality, this could be from anyone. “Jenna?” the brunette made a ‘no’ gesture. “Jim?”

“Nope.”

“Look a little closer at the spatula,” Cathy spoke up. “ Tis an ill cook that cannot lick his own fingers” was engraved into it.

“Shakespeare?” Cal looked a bit bewildered.

“It means that if a cook can’t bear to eat his own food, he isn’t a very good cook, and we all know you’re one of the best around,” Cathy explained, a tint of red shading her face. “And I’ve noticed that your apron is stapled to keep it together. Figured you might like a new one.”

“I- Thanks Cath.” The man smiled one of the most genuine smiles any of his coworkers had ever seen. Jenna would be sure to tell Cathy how much that present had meant to him, because the lord knew that Cal wasn’t very good at expressing his feelings.

(It didn’t go unnoticed that the spatula was used exactly once before it hung in a shadowbox that the cook would touch for good luck every time he walked into the diner for the rest of his time working.)

“Bookmarks? This could quite literally be from anyone,” the writer laughed. “Who do I have left to choose from?” She surveyed the room before noticing that a certain mother wouldn’t look her in the eye. “Jenna?”

“Yeah?”

“How did you know I needed new bookmarks?” She truly thought that only her fellow queens would pick up on the fact that she was using strange objects as bookmarks.

“I’ve seen the way you’ll use anything as a bookmark, but I’ve never seen you use a proper bookmark,” Jenna explained. “For crying out loud, I saw you use a soda can tab the other day.”

“I-” the sixth queen was truly stunned. And then, she got a closer look at the bookmarks. They were beautiful- all different shades of blue, but each had delicate details and accents with her fellow queens colors. “These are beautiful. Thank you.”

(She would go on to use these bookmarks for the rest of her days, alternating between the different bookmarks.)

“A new pie dish!” the baker exclaimed with glee. “Oh how wonderful! Thank you!”

“Who’s it from?” Jim questioned.

“It’s from-,” Jenna eyed up the pie dish for a long while before catching that on the side in small and crisp writing it read, “ all i wanna do is bake... all i do is sing... all i do is bake and sing” “-Thank you Kat.”

“You’re welcome,” the pink haired queen tried to say it casually. “Hope you like it.”

“I love it. And I love the reference to the musical.”

(Whenever she brought over pie to the queens from that day forward, she made sure to bake it in the pie dish that the fifth queen had gifted her.)

“A book on American history...?” Katherine grinned, knowing exactly who gave it to her. “Thank you Ogie.”

“I thought since you liked British history so much, you might like to read up on American history now that you live in the states,” Ogie offered. “If you don’t like it though, I can surely think of something else to get you.”

“That won’t be necessary. I love it. Thank you.”

(Kat would stay up late into the night reading about the fascinating history of the country she now resided in. Cathy would find her asleep the next morning with the book in her lap before leaving the room. She returned with the bookmark matched with her friend’s color and bookmark the page for her, but not before attaching a sticky note that read, “ I expect this to be returned to me when you wake up.” When Ogie was playing Paul Revere the next time, the fifth queen was in the front row watching her friend reenact her new favorite part of history.)

“Wow! This is beautiful! Almost an exact replica of the one the Paul Revere wears in my reenactments! Thank you!”

“Well, who do you think got it for you hun?” Dawn also admired the new coat her husband had just been given.

“I- I- I, Cleves?” he guessed. Surely, this was a rather expensive gift, and everyone knew that the red queen had money to spare.

“Nope, wasn’t me.”

“Becky?”

“You wish. I’m not going to encourage your-”

“That’s enough Becky. My daughter is in the room,” Jenna scolded her boisterous friend.

“She won’t encourage his what, Mama?” the little girl in the room stared up at her mother with wide eyes.

“Nothing to worry about hun. Just some adult stuff.” The baker hoped that would be enough. It seemed to work- the girl was back to asking Ogie who he thought gave him the coat.

“Jim?”

“I thought you might like to have it the next time you go on for Revere. That other guy’s coat is huge on you.”

“Thank you Jim!” The elf-man lunged to hug his friend.

“This tie is stunning Jane,” the lanky doctor said confidently.

“How’d you know it was me?” The silver queen was shocked. She didn’t think it was that obvious who she had. She certainly didn’t slip up and tell Jenna either.

“It’s silver.”

“Oh.” In all honesty, the blonde didn’t even realize she had bought a tie in the color that she had been assigned all those years ago. She was just drawn to it.

“Thank you.”

(Jim wore the tie to the second opening night for SiX on broadway many years later. Jane cried when she recognized the tie.)

“Aren’t you going to open your gift?” Cleves asked the third queen expectantly.

“Oh, I guess I just got so... wrapped up in watching everyone else open their gifts!” The punniest queen grinned.

“Just for that, you lose your turn. You go last,” Cleves retorted as she went to open her present.

“Well, I only know one woman who would buy me a designer athletic bag. Thank you Becky!” the red queen acknowledged the rowdy waitress.

“Yeah, yeah. Not a problem. I figured you might like to carry your things in it instead of that small little bag you have.”

“Thank you.”

(Anna of Cleves would use that bag until it ripped, and then she retired it so that she could keep it forever. Becky would be happy to buy her another bag when she needed it.)

“Cleves!” Becky gasped.

“What?”

“These shoes!”

“I’ve seen the shoes you guys wear while you’re waitressing. I read up on these shoes a lot. They’re supposedly really comfortable and they’re stunning. All leather.”

(Becky was more than happy to throw away the ratty pair of shoes she had been wearing since Jenna started working at Joe’s Diner all those years ago and replace them with the shoes Cleves had bought her. And when a new pair showed up at her house a few years later with a note that read: bitchin’ kicks! , well, Becky let out a full-on belly laugh.)

And that left Jane to open her present.

“Well, go on, open it hun,” Jenna encouraged her friend.

Jane was expecting some sort of artwork from the little girl who was no doubt her secret santa. What she wasn’t expecting was a handmade mug with the little girl’s thumbprints in the shape of a heart- under it reading “ Best Aunt”. At the sight of it, the blonde’s eyes welled with tears.

“Thank you Lulu,” she choked out.

“What is it?” Anne asked, curious as to what could elicit such a reaction from her costar.

“It’s a best aunt mug,” Jane whispered.

“Hey, I thought that was me! You little rascal!” both Anna and Becky exclaimed at the same time.

“D-do you like it Aunt Janey?” Lulu stood from her spot in her mother’s lap and resituated herself in the third queen’s, hugging her.

“I absolutely love it, and I love you. It’s perfect. Thank you so much honey.”

(Jane would never use another mug again, nor did she let anyone else in the house use it. It was her mug, and no one dared to touch it.)

After the gift exchange was over, the group settled in to watch a movie, more than happy to spend all of the time in the world together. The youngest member of the group hadn’t strayed from her surrogate aunt’s side, more than happy to snuggle into the warmth that the older woman radiated. It wasn’t long before she was snoring quietly in the arms of her favorite queen.

“You’re all more than welcome to stay the night if you want,” Catherine offered knowing how tired the bunch had become.

“As much as we’d love to,” Jim began before Jenna interrupted.

“It might be easier to have her just sleep here instead of trying to get her into the car and then into bed without her waking up.”

“That’s a fair point. But, all of the gifts are at our house babe.”

“Hey, it’s not a big deal if you guys stay, and it’s not a big deal if you don’t stay. We all know you’re all gonna end up here again in the morning anyway, so it’s totally up to you.” Anne waved a dismissive hand.

“We wouldn't want to impose,” Dawn muffled a yawn.

“We’ve got more than enough room between the living room and the basement, but it’s up to you,” Cathy mumbled, half asleep against Catherine.

“If you guys don’t mind,” Jenna smiled. The six queens all quickly reminded her that it was their idea. “Okay, so Santa’s presents are still at my house, so we’re gonna have to-”

“I’ll go with Jim and get it all together for you, don’t worry Jenna,” Ogie offered.

“I’ll go with them. They need a man to get this job done.” Cal stood and grabbed his coat, the other two men following suit.

“Alright girls, head to bed, Jenna and I can stay up for the boys.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Becky grumbled, picking herself up and heading towards the basement, pulling a half-asleep Dawn with her.

“Goodnight Janey,” the queens all stood and kissed the mother figure of the house on the cheek before retreating to their rooms.

“I better take Lu down-”

“You guys can stay in my room. I’m sure Annie won’t mind a bedmate for the night.”

“I can’t take your room from you.”

“You can. I insist. Lu isn’t going to sleep on one of the couches!”

“But it’s your room.”

“Okay, I do have that pullout in my room. I can sleep on there, and the three of you can have my bed.”

“I’m not taking your bed from you!”

“Well Lu surely isn’t sleeping on that pullout! Not the night before Santa’s coming!”

“Lu can stay with you then. Jim and I will take the couch.”

“But, you’re going to wake up sore.”

“So would you if you slept on it.”

“But you’re my guests.”

“We’re hardly guests at this point.”

“You don’t live here.”

“We might as well.”

“Just take my offer.”

“You’re sleeping in your own bed Seymour. Lu can stay with you, and Jim and I can take the pullout. That’s final,” the brunette turned on her mom voice.

“Damn Hunterson. No need to pull out the mom voice on me!”

“There is a need!”

“Okay, okay!” Jane laughed putting her hands up in mock surrender. “I suppose you win this round. Let’s get her to bed before the Santas arrive.”

The men arrived a while later, promising the two women who had stayed up that they could take care of setting out all the presents.

“Dawn and Becky are downstairs. There’s more than enough room for all of you to stay down there comfortably,” Jane informed them.

“Jane’s been kind enough to share her room with us for the night,” Jenna told her husband. “Lu’s gonna stay with her and we’re gonna stay on the pull-out. Hope that’s alright.”

Jim nodded before instructing the other men on where to put Lulu’s presents.

Although the two women had been told they were more than welcome to go to bed once Jim, Ogie, and Cal arrived back, they stayed and watched them diligently. Satisfied with the display that had the queens’ presents to each other (because of course they all got each other presents on top of their secret santa exchange) as well as the additional presents from the diner gang, everyone set out to bed.

Christmas Day had arrived, and at exactly 5:03 am, Jane Seymour was woken by a small child poking her cheek incessantly.

“Aunt Janey!” she whispered. “It’s Christmas. Do you think Santa came? Do you think Santa knowed I stayed here instead of at my own house?”

“Lu, it’s 5 in the morning. I don’t know if Santa came yet. Why don’t we give him a couple more hours to make sure he knows you’re here and not home?”

“This is like my home!” the little one whisper-shouted, melting the blonde’s heart.

“That’s so sweet of you to say hun. Why don’t we go back to sleep for a little bit though? It’s very early, and you know how your girls like their sleep.”

“Hmm,” Lulu thought this over for a second. “I guess you’re right. Good night Aunt Janey. Merry Christmas, and love you.”

“I love you too little Lu,” the blonde sighed as her surrogate niece snuggled into her side for a few more hours.

Opening presents was about as chaotic as anyone could guess in the house with thirteen people in it. After presents were done, Cal set out to make breakfast for everyone, muttering that if he couldn’t do that, what kind of cook would he be? It didn’t go unnoticed by the writer that he used his new spatula and apron as opposed to one of the spatulas in the queens’ house, the first and only time he ever used the kitchen tool.

“Hey Jenna?” Jane called from her place on the couch. The baker looked over at her friend inquisitively. “I have one more present for you.”

“What? You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“Well, maybe it’s not for you, per se. It’s for the little one inside of you.” The third queen stood and walked towards the Christmas tree before almost magically producing one last present from under it.

Jenna opened the present with care and glanced at it before bursting into tears.

A simple onesie that said “ Heart of Gold, Green, Silver, Red, Pink, and Blue” .

“We thought it might be nice to give you for the new baby. We already love him or her so much.”

(When Olivia Pomatter arrived in the world, it was the first onesie the Hunterson-Pomatter duo put their new daughter in. Jane cried.)

#six the musical #six musical #waitress the musical #waitress musical #jane seymour #jenna hunterson #six fanfiction #six the musical fanfic #six the musical fanfiction #six fanfic #waitress the musical fanfiction #waitress the musical fanfic

24 notes · View notes

perhapsitmaybedragons · 4 years ago

Text

Santa’s Wonderland

Merry Christmas, @shelling4869ford! I am your @dcmksecretsanta Secret Santa

Here is your fanfic, but I also have some art I will be sending you later this week after I add some color to it! You said you wanted some Conan and Kogoro bonding - I hope this is ok!

Kogoro shifted from one foot to the other so many times Conan briefly wondered if the old man needed to go to the bathroom. But a quick glance at his hands and the way they were fidgeting showed that Kogoro just desperately wanted a cigarette. It wasn't like you could smoke in Santa's Wonder Land.

Kogoro had been flattered into taking the kids by Ayumi and the other actual kids laying it on kind of thick, in Conan's opinion. A lot of 'but you're the best detective' and 'we'd be so safe with you' until Kogoro had laughed, patted them all on the head and readily agreed. After all, Ran was working here.

Which was why Conan had agreed to come along. Of course, since he still looked like a child no one thought it was suspect that he wanted to see Santa.

“So,” Ai asked, “What exactly will you be asking Santa for?”

He frowned at her. “You know damn well he isn't real and that he couldn't give me what I want even if he was.”

“Sorry. I think I'll just ask for a new purse.”

“Well, glad to see you're setting your sights low, anyway...”

“Are you talking about what you're going to ask for?” Ayumi asked, grabbing Ai's hand and starting to swing it back and forth. “I want some new dolls, and a detective kit and...”

“I want some books,” Mitsuhiko offered.

“Yeah, yeah. Just save it for Santa, kids.” Kogoro brushed them off. “Damn it, is the line always like this? I haven't been to one of these things in ages,” he started rubbing at his neck as though he could feel the years weighing down on him. “And that little brat got Ran into trouble again that day.”

I didn't get her into trouble. That time was her idea. I wouldn't have tried to pass the gifts out to the other kids in line. I knew the boxes were empty, Conan thought, but obviously couldn't say.

“Oh, look, there's Santa!” Ayumi pointed, standing on her tiptoes to try to see over the crowd. Genta grabbed her under the armpits and hoisted her up so she could see better. “Thank you!”

“Sure, but now Conan probably can't see anything,” Genta smirked at him. “Can ya, shorty?”

“Did you want to see anything?” Kogoro asked. “Didn't think this would be your kind of thing.”

“It's not.” Which was the truth. But he was very curious about Ran's elf costume. Before he could say anything for or against it, Kogoro had scooped him up and put him on his shoulders.

“There. Can you see him now, kid?”

“Yeah. Uhm. ...Thanks.”

“No problem. Sooner we get out of here the sooner I can have a cigarette.” Kogoro marched forward in the line but kept Conan on his shoulders.

It felt like hours before they reached the front but in actuality was probably more like twenty minutes. Conan noticed that the Detective Boys were all starting to look kind of tired and crabby. If they'd had to wait much longer it wouldn't have been a pretty sight.

“Ho ho ho, all of you kids at once?” Santa asked.

“You can all come one at a time or all together,” Ran was at the front, apparently on kid wrangling duty. She wore a green skirt with a red blouse and then a green and red hat with elf ears on it. Conan smiled at her – she looked adorable.

“C'mon, kids, other people are waiting.” He was more than a little surprised to see Sonoko there. She didn't need to work, so why? Oh, wait. Now he remembered. She'd been insisting to Makoto lately that she could make her own way in the world. This must be her latest attempt to prove it.

“One at a time,” Ai suggested. When Mistuhiko and Genta started to take off running she grabbed them both by the shirts. “Ayumi first.”

They both grumbled, but agreed to it.

Kogoro watched and tapped his foot, repeatedly checking his cell phone for the time. “Couldn't they have given you a longer skirt?” he asked Ran after a moment. “It's cold at the North Pole. Elves should be wearing parkas and long pants.”

“It's just the costume, dad,” Ran sighed, “Besides, some of my regular skirts are shorter than this. It's about the same length as my school uniform skirt.”

He brushed the answer off without paying attention to it. Ayumi finished her list and then the boys took their turns. Then Ai.

“Your turn, Conan!” Ran insisted, grabbing his hand and leading him to Santa. Santa, for his part, was staring after Ai with a bewildered expression.

“That girl....” He started.

“Yeah, she has that effect on people,” Conan muttered.

“Yes, but what can I get you for Christmas, little boy?”

“Uh...books, I guess.”

“Just books? No toys?”

“No...”

“You know,” Santa had a strange twinkle in his eye, “I heard they have a new play set out for Sherlock Holmes.”

Conan blinked a few times, then finally bothered to look at Santa. “Oh, hi, Inspector Megure!”

“Shhh!” The Inspector double checked that his beard hadn't slipped.

“Oh, hey, Inspector Megure!” Kogoro shouted at him. “How are things going?”

“Oh geez, get that guy out of here before he lets these kids know who I am – or worse, we fall into a case. I don't want these kids seeing a dead body,” the Inspector let Conan off of his lap. “Get out of here, Kogoro!”

“Is the police force paying that little these days?”

“Shut up and leave,” Megure hissed. “Kids all got their wishes in, do you want them to worry that Santa isn't going to bring their toys?”

“I guess not,” Kogoro admitted. “See you around, Inspector.”

Conan barely resisted the urge to face palm, but followed along on Kogoro's heels. “I tell you, kid, this stuff gets worse every year.” As soon as they were far enough away Kogoro lit a cigarette and took a long drag. “It used to be kind of fun when Ran was little. She'd get so excited and her mom..and her mom,” he trailed off and took another drag, letting the smoke out slowly as he thought. “But that was a long time ago. Things change.”

“Well,” Conan thought about it for a moment. “Maybe we could make things nice for Ran this year. Maybe make those cookies her mom used to, only ours will actually be edible.”

“Who told you about those?” Kogoro asked sharply.

“Ran did!” Conan said automatically. “That Eri couldn't cook but always tried to make spritz cookies anyway at Christmas time.”

“Yeah. Terrible. You'd think the sprinkles could save em but nope, just made it more obvious that she'd messed up.. That's not a bad idea, though. Do you know what goes into those things?”

“No,” Conan admitted, pulling out his cell phone and typing away. “But I found a recipe. We have everything except almond extract at home.”

“All right. Well, let's get your friends dropped off and then I guess... I guess we'll go home and make cookies. But you're doing all the clean up.”

Conan smirked at him. “Okay, but I get the first cookie. Then you've got yourself a deal, mister!”

#dcmksecretsanta #@shelling4869ford #dcmk fanart #detective conan #detective boys #kogoro #kogoro mouri #ran mouri #sonoko #inspector megure

20 notes · View notes

antihero-writings · 4 years ago

Text

His Butler, and the Problem with Magic (Ch1)

Fandom: Black Butler | Kuroshitsuji x Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets Crossover

Fic Synopsis: Life at Hogwarts isn’t all bad…usually. But when Valentine’s Day rolls around, and Lockhart throws an extravagant ball, the number of couples at school the next day skyrockets, and Sebastian finds himself a new object of devotion…Can Ciel save his butler from the spell on his own?

Character Focus: Ciel (Sebastian, Undertaker, Harry, Grell)

Notes: This is a fic I wrote for @elegantkittycat for a Valentines day secret-santa-style event I made a few years ago!

Yes, I’m aware there are typos in this chapter. I intend to fix them at some point.

If you’d be willing to comment and/or reblog, it would mean more to me than you know!! They really really help motivate me to keep writing.

Chapter 1:

The great hall, quite frankly, looked like Valentine’s day threw up on it. Those lurid pink flowers from lunch still lined the walls, but now bright streamers glided across the ceiling, big, shiny hearts fluttered in the air, reflecting mood lighting, and bubble hearts popped out of bouquets of roses, (each flower cut into hearts). The ceiling itself not only continued to drop confetti, but was blighted by puffy clouds that read the same banalities you could find in every Sweethearts box; Be Mine, and True Love, and XOXO. (The clouds may have actually read that outside too, but Ciel didn’t want to check.) The burly cupids from earlier in the week lumbered about the room, continuing to pelt people with off-key music, and cards that only the most hopeless and idiotic of romantics would provide, filled with the same empty statements the clouds read—(every once and a while a howler burst forth, and the actual band would come to a shrieking halt at “YOU’RE REALLY CUTE”).

Lockhart had insisted a Valentine’s day ball was in order—(a lurid end to a lurid day)—and remarked with a toss of his perfect hair and blinding smile that it would be ‘just the thing’ to brighten everyone’s moods.

The fact that Lizzie had been the first (of many, mind you) to offer her decorative expertise and assistance may or may not have contributed to the overall… valentines-day-puked-and-so-will-I vibe of the room.

Currently, said mission to lift the general spirit was failing; aside from the few school lovebirds, (who were already widely despised and avoided, without school-sanctioned and overly sugary displays of affection) most people took this as the perfect opportunity for your daily dose of sulking at the sidelines, and contemplating if magic was quite worth this amount of suffering. Not least of all Ciel, who was currently propped against the wall behind the food table. (Lizzie had pried him away from his brooding earlier to dance, but now he happily returned to the indent he’d made in the wall). He had made many attempts throughout the evening to sneak a piece of chocolate cake, but Sebastian always magically appeared to slap his hands away whenever he got too close.

Most people would have stayed in their dorms, given the chance. Lockhart, however, had sent everyone cards with his kissy face on them, telling them flirtatiously not to dawdle, and his commands got more sugary, and insistent, (not to mention awkward) the longer they stayed indoors, and floated over their heads until they dragged their butts to the ball. This was particularly affective at making sure everyone was there, because the girls melted for his voice, and the boys wanted to shut him up as soon as possible.

“Isn’t this wonderful, Ciel!” A certain Indian prince put his arm around the earl’s neck and noogied him.

“Wha—No!” Ciel struggled like a fish out of water. Upon release he wiped his hands on his dress robes (the robes Sebastian had thrown together for the event—his ‘thrown together,’ of course, looked like others ‘spent-months-laboring-over-this’)—as if he didn’t want to catch Soma’s contagious happiness. “And I’d thank you to not touch me so casually!”

“I’m sorry Ciel, it’s just seeing all this love in the air makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside!” he spun around, “Doesn’t it do the same for you?”

“That’s called acid reflux.”

Soma pouted.

“Ciieel!” Lizzie’s hug was a torpedo. She snared his hands and spun him around, “Come dance with me!”

“Ack…I just danced with you ten minutes ago! How many times do I have to dance with you before you’re satisfied?!”

“Don’t you want your fiancé to be happy?” Her green eyes, (which were already big), became the puppy dog eyes of a little girl who wants an expensive toy.

“Don’t you?” he grumbled.

“I’ll dance with you, Elizabeth!” Soma came to the rescue. “It would be an honor to dance with such a lovely young lady!”

She blushed—“Oh please! It would be more than an honor to dance with a Prince!”—and curtsied, shooting Ciel an icy look, before joining the dance.

The young earl folded his arms over his chest and rolled his eyes.

As if that wasn’t enough sappiness for a lifetime, cloying words floated to his ears:

“Oh Professor Michaelis~!”

Ciel’s brow twitched.

“Come now Lavender, that wouldn’t be fair, would it?”

“Ahh, he’s so noble!” came a not-so-whispered consensus.

Ciel jerked his head to see the group of girls crowding around his butler, like birds to sunflower seeds in the park.

Rather than sharing his annoyance, and refusing their advances, Sebastian shimmered with flattery and flirtation. A few of them offered him boxes of chocolates and other sweets, which he took with flowery compliments, but surely had no intention of eating—it didn’t take a love expert to know they were all laced with love potions. (Or maybe he could eat them anyways; the jury was still out if love potions had any affect on the demon…some magical methods worked on him and others didn’t).

Ciel’s hands clenched into fists at his sides, “Don’t you have better things to do?!” he shouted over the throng.

Sebastian chuckled. “Mr. Phantomhive, don’t you know it’s rude to question a teacher?”

Ciel growled.

“These lovely ladies took time out of their day to offer me gifts,” the butler’s calm voice carried across the room. “It would be rude to refuse them.”

There was a syrupy sigh from the group.

“Ugh,” Ciel gave the opposite kind of sigh, and turned away before he gave into the urge to murder.

A familiar laugh at his side made him turn.

“What’s so funny?” he asked the Undertaker.

“Oh nothing much,” Undertaker forwent his usual dog biscuits for a piece of cake, “I just find your sour mood rather humorous.”

“You know me, I’m always in a sour mood.”

“Can’t argue with that,” he said, his mouth full of cake, “but,” he swallowed, “it seems the atmosphere of love and joy has put you in a particularly foul state of mind,” he pointed a black nail at him.

“I just don’t find romance being thrown in my face to make for a very fun evening, that’s all. One of Lizzie’s cutsey rampages is enough for me…but this?” he shuddered.

“Well, some would say it’s sweet. That it makes them feel happy and romantic.”

“When I rise to power, those people will be sterilized.”*

He laughed. “Always the life of the party, you are.”

“What? Are you one of those people?”

“I wouldn’t say so. But seeing you in such a state is worth all the romance any day.”

“Glad I could be of service,” he grunted.

Undertaker set down his plate and twirled in front of him, then leaned forward and spoke behind his hand, “What do you say we make this party…a party?” he reached into one of his drapey sleeves and pulled out a vial, teasing it in front of his face.

A quizzical look from Ciel made Undertaker whistle in the direction of the nearby punchbowl.

Ciel sighed and rubbed his temple. “Spiking the punch…really? Isn’t that a little too cliché, even for you?”

“I prefer the term ‘failsafes.’ Even you have to admit, the atmosphere could use a little...” he glanced around the room, “spiking. Besides,” he leaned in close and whispered, “this isn’t alcohol, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“…What is it then?” Ciel moaned, eyeing the ex-reaper.

He stood back up to his full height. “I’m not one to spoil the punchline before I tell the joke.”

The young earl sighed, “You really think we should deprive people of their misery? I’m not one to interrupt some good, old-fashioned sulking.”

“The general idea is that those who are miserable would like to…not be.”

“They also say that misery loves company. Misery and I, for instance, have quite the close relationship.”

As if called by them saying ‘misery’ too many times, Lockhart’s pretty face showed up.

Ciel coughed to cover his distaste.

“Ah Undertaker! Good to see you here! Everyone’s loving the party aren’t they?”—He gestured to the glowering room—“It’s so wonderful to see all these young people in love!” he gave a throaty chuckle.

“Well, I wouldn’t say everyone.” Undertaker had a way with honesty.

“What makes you say that? Did someone tell you they weren’t enjoying it? We can’t have that!”

“It’s not so much anyone specific, but—”

“…What’s that you have?” his eyes fell on the vial that Undertaker had barely tried to conceal. Despite Ciel’s theory that Lockhart was dumber than a bag of rocks (even if the rocks were magic), it didn’t take long for the truth to dawn on him, “Spiking the punch are we?” He held up an accusatory finger, “Naughty naughty. I would have expected this from one of the students, but shouldn’t a man of your stature know better?”

“What stature?” Ciel snorted.

“What’s that, Dear Boy?” Lockhart leaned forward.

Undertaker put his hand on Ciel’s head, covering his vision with his sleeve. “The young Er—student was just about to say that a man of my stature is not one to shy away from a little fun.” he put his other hand on Ciel’s shoulder, his grip a little too tight.

“I hardly think it’s ‘a little fun.’ We don’t want any students getting hurt, nor do we the party ruined, now do we? All it takes is one slip of the foot and someone ends up in the hospital.” He held out his hand, expecting him to hand over the vial.

“On second thought, do it,” Ciel whispered out of the corner of his mouth. “I’ll be the kid who winds up in the hospital. Anything to get me out of this hellish party.”

“What are we up to?” Dumbledore joined the conversation. It appeared as though Lizzie had got to even the headmaster, as he had bows in his beard and hair, though he didn’t seem to mind much.

“I regret to inform you that our dear Undertaker has intents to spike the punch.” Lockhart said like he was a student tattling.

“Ah,” the headmaster said casually, popping a heart candy in his mouth and burping out a heart, “(Pardon me). Well you can’t blame him for trying to bring a little…sprucing up, to the room, can you?” he lifted his hands and smiled genially.

“Are you saying that my party is not of the highest caliber?”

“Oh we aren’t denying that you have an air for the grandiose, Gilderoy,” he began cutting the cake with his wand; “Mr. Phantomhive, would you like some cake?”

Ciel glanced at Sebastian, who was currently preoccupied, and tried not to smirk. “I’d love some, thanks.”

Dumbledore cut him a huge slice, handing it to him gracefully, as if he were dropping a tiny lemon sherbet into his palm instead of a mountain of chocolate. Ciel inclined his head in gratitude, (and made sure to eat a big bite when Sebastian was looking, and the incense on his face was worth it—he, of course, couldn’t do anything butler-like with the headmaster and another teacher standing there).

“Don’t beat around the bush Albus!” Lockhart cut back in, “What is it you’re trying to say?”

“No one denies your party-throwing skills, dear Professor Lockhart.” He stood, placing his hands behind his back, “But your em…” he cleared his throat, “other skills can sometimes be rather lacking…”

“I’m shocked, and hurt, Dumbledore.” He put his hand over his heart. “Shocked and hurt. I’ll have you know that I won ‘best party-thrower’ in three”—he held up three shaky fingers—“countries! I think that should more than make up for any spoiled brats who can’t see fun even if it’s standing in front of their face!”

“Was he talking about me?” Ciel murmured to Undertaker, without a hint of hurt in his voice, “I feel like he was talking about me.”

“And what countries were those?”

As they argued, Dumbledore inclined his head towards the punch bowl.

It was Ciel’s turn to be shocked. Everyone knew their headmaster was rather eccentric, but he didn’t take him to be so reckless. He’d expect this from Undertaker… but Dumbledore? He thought he had at least a little ‘responsible-grown-up’ in him (even though Undertaker was definitely a lost cause).

Ciel turned to stop the ex-reaper, but now a dotted outline remained where Undertaker previously had been, and a second later he saw a long-nailed hand appear above the punch bowl.

Ciel facepalmed.

Any desire he had to drink said punch, as well as be at this party at all, had gone into the negatives.

But, eh, at least he had cake now. So maybe it wasn’t all bad.

“Young Master!” Sebastian snatched the plate from his hand, “How many times have I told you—!”

“Oh, so now you can walk away from the girls?” Ciel spun to his butler, whose arms were full of assorted treats. (Ciel, of course, knew he’d probably have walked away sooner if it weren’t for Lockhart and Dumbledore).

He tapped his foot on the ground (which somehow didn’t imbalance the tower of sweets), “I won’t allow it. You’ll get a tummyache.”

“I’m not a child!”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow at his whining. “That may be…but regardless, you have a delicate composition.” He leaned over and set Ciel’s unfinished plate in the ‘dirty’ pile. “Sweets of this size will certainly impair your gastrointestinal health.”

Ciel looked from side to side, hoping no one was listening, feeling his face grow hot. “Delicate!”

“Would you prefer a different term? Fragile? Frail?”

“I’m not a vase!”

“Tender?”

“I’m not a steak!”

Sebastian looked over his professor-glasses at him as if to say Do you think you’re talking to someone else?

Ciel groaned, giving his butler the victory.

Sebastian set his armful of gifts in a pile along the wall. Clapping his hands clean and wiping his brow.

“What, are you tired?” he mocked, knowing full well the demon couldn’t get tired. “Is having a bunch of high-school-girls fawn over you exhausting?”

“Well, now that you mention it…” Sebastian joked back, feigning thought.

He rolled his eyes. “Come on, let’s get out of—”

A mischievous idea curled itself around his brain.

“You must be thirsty,” he said in a mockingly-concerned voice, trying to lean sideways on the table by the punch (but he almost fell over, and had to catch himself).

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. “Well, I don’t really require hydration like you humans do.”

Ciel gave him a look as if to say No, go ahead, I won’t mind. You really do look exhausted.

“But I suppose it couldn’t hurt….If you insist.”

“Oh I do.” He smirked as he watched Sebastian pour himself a cup.

More likely than not it wouldn’t have any affect on the demon, but, presented with the potential, he wasn’t going to deny himself a few hours to imagine what it might be like if it did.

“Why are you looking at me like that, Young Master?” he asked before raising the cup to his lips.

“Oh…I’m just enjoying the party.”

That didn’t clear things up. Sebastian’s brow furrowed, but, after taking a sip, he didn’t have time to ask because—

“The party has arri-ved~!” a certain familiar voice sang.

Ciel was starting to wonder if this was God finally deciding to punish him. Both master and butler felt like they were going to be violently ill, and simultaneously had a thought something akin to that’s my cue to leave! Before they could even make the first step, however—

“Ahh Sebas-chan!”

They winced, turning slowly to see Grell waving a princess wave at the butler over the crowd, while Ronald followed suit, nodding and blowing kisses towards the girls.

“All this love in the air,” Grell materialized beside them (they jumped a little), and crossed his hands over his heart, staring blinkily into the ceiling, “Kinda gets you thinking, doesn’t it.” He sidled up beside the demon.

“If you mean thinking about ending your life, indeed, it does.” Sebastian showed him no mercy.

“Playing hard to get, are we? Ah! How saucy!” he slapped his shoulder playfully,

Sebastian sighed, folding his arms over his chest, trying to ignore the nagging presence.

“Ciel! Ciel! Are you going to introduce me to your friends?!” Lizzie and Soma arrived at his side, as if hopeless romantics were coming out of the woodwork.

“They’re most certainly not my friends.” He cleared his throat.

“What’s that supposed to mean, Old Chap?” Ronald asked, “We may not be close, but I thought all those times we tried to kill each other meant something.”

Lizzie stared at Ronald, inching slowly away.

“Oh that’s just…a joke we have,” Ciel defended weakly.

“Oh…” Lizzie looked away, then recovered quickly, “Well, anyhow, you didn’t tell me Prince Soma was such a lovely dancer!”

“How was I supposed to know?” he grunted, “I’ve never danced with him!”

“Don’t be so rude, Ciel!” Soma defended her, “Please, you were like a—what are those dancers called? That’s right, a ballerina! —You were like ballerina, Miss Lizzie.”

“Don’t be so modest! Ciel, should take a page out of your book!”

“What page?” Ciel demanded, “The one on being a spoiled brat?”

“Sounds like someone’s already read that one,” She punched his shoulder. Her attitude changed in a second again, “I’m so thirsty!” She reached for the punch ladle.

“Wait—NO!” Ciel grabbed her wrist.

She blinked. “What are you doing?”

“I—uh” his face was a thermometer slowly going into the red, “I just umm…You don’t want to drink that.”

“I don’t?”

“No…yeah…it uh, tastes like uhh… cat pee,” he started to pull her away.

“How would you know what cat pee tastes like?” Ronald’s butted in.

“Maybe a cat peed in my mouth one time, you don’t know my life!”

“I’m having a hard time believing a nobleman such as yourself—”

“I just don’t think she should drink it, that’s all! Is that so inconceivable?!”

“Sorry! Sorry! Sheesh,” he shook his head, “you Nobles are pieces of work!”

Ciel rolled his eyes, turning back to Lizzie. “Why don’t you go back to your dorm?”

“But… I don’t want to go back to my dorm.” Lizzie pouted, “I’m having fun! …Or at least I was,” she murmured.

“…Look I’m sorry. I’ll-I’ll dance another number with you, okay?”

As they walked out onto the floor, he watched the other students drink the unassuming punch over his shoulder.

*****

At the risk of sounding even more cliché; the day started like any other. Ciel got up before the other boys in his dorm to a chilly February morning, and started his routine—an aspect of which was speaking to Sebastian about today’s mission and objectives before classes began. Their current mission had to do with the Chamber of Secrets—such as figuring out where it was, if it existed at all—and the heir, who they were, and how to dispose of, or join them, accordingly. At this point, they had little to no leads. With his day robes on, and homework and books in hand, he slipped out into the hall.

He’d soon wish he stayed in bed.

Once the common room door closed, his day-from-hell would begin.

For a magic school, not much happened day-to-day. Well, that wasn’t true, Harry Potter added some…pizzazz. But it was still a school, and once you get used to the magic…normal-school-things happen.

Today was one of those days which reminded him that this was not a normal school.

Sure it was the day after Valentines Day, but did those Huffpuffs have to kiss in the hallways?

And guess what? You there, standing in the hall, blocking everyone’s way? Yeah, you. There is a perfectly nice wall behind you, just waiting to be leaned against (ignore the judgmental painting in the background).

And why did anyone who wasn’t in the throws of *shudders* youthful passion have this glazed look in their eyes, like they’d eaten pot brownies for breakfast?

Most of the time, the few students who were awake at this hour chatted and giggled, inflicting the general populace with the daily gossip, at which, sure, he would still roll his eyes and groan, but it was at least better than kissing and clogging up the hallway (as well as each other’s mouths).

He was relieved to finally reach Sebastian in the The Defense Against the Dark arts classroom.

This was one thing that was no surprise, as he shared the teaching position of the class with Lockhart—(no easy task, as they were both divas who didn’t enjoy sharing spotlight, and one was totally incompetent, and the other was as overqualified a professional chef at a kids easy-bake bake off. But their even-keeled headmaster had to give them each equal time teaching. At the beginning of the year, after it was decided which classes would get which teacher, some students begged the heads of houses to reconsider putting them in Sebastian’s class. Sebastian, amicable and excessive as ever, decided to host extra classes after school to satisfy the disappointed students).

“Alright, shall we pick up where we left off?” Ciel marched towards Sebastian, throwing his books on the nearest desk.

However, unlike his usual, attentive I-solved-all-our-problems-overnight-here’s-the-solution self, the butler stared out the window…he didn’t even pay his master immediate attention.

Said master tapped his foot impatiently on the ground and snapped, “Oy, Sebastian!”

“Mm?” the demon faced him, slowly.

Again, there was that glazed look. Like he had been in a donut factory.

“Young Master, I… didn’t hear you come in.” His eyes darted around the room.

“You bloody well didn’t,” he continued to tap his foot, muttering, “Demon hearing my ass.”

When Sebastian didn’t use said demon hearing to reprimand him for swearing, he knew something was wrong. He stopped being aggravated for a second and looked a little closer.

There was a smudge on his glasses. His hair was sticking up in front of his forehead, and there was some cat hair on his robes (probably from a clowder he kept in his room).

He was…imperfect. His appearance, while still practically impeccable by human standards was sloppy by Sebastian’s. His attention, divided.

And that was reason to worry.

Ciel leaned over the desk and snapped in his face. “You can ogle photos on your own time!”

Sebastian looked at him, but every time he focused on him, as if magnetized, his eyes reeled back to a photograph on the desk.

“Do you think…do you think he could like me?” Sebastian said in a strangely uncertain voice that didn’t sound at all like him.

“Huh?”

He had never known Sebastian to be uncertain of, or fascinated by, anything, and, more importantly, he had zero regard for whether or not people liked him. He also never pried his concentrations from the missions, especially not for something so trivial and/or emotional as photos.

Ciel walked around the desk to get a good look at it. He thought it might be Lockhart, as the room was crawling with his glimmering face. Instead, in a shattered case—(Ciel thought he might hurl)—the demon fixated on a picture of Grell.

The young earl vaguely remembered Grell giving it to him—mentioning passionately something about it being a way for him to be with him at all times, with hearts in his eyes. At the time, Sebastian had rolled his eyes, said, ‘is there a version of this when I can see you at no times?’ and tossed it into the drawer with enough disregard that the glass had shattered, and (now this is just speculation) hoped to never look at it again.

For what unholy (or holy, by demon standards…no, it definitely wasn’t holy) reason would Sebastian return to it now? And what’s worse, how could a picture of Grell possibly distract him from the task his master had placed before him?

Was it possible that all those pictures, cards, the cheesy lines, and sappy gestures, all the maudlin advances, had finally made it through to Sebastian?

Hell no. He’d watch the world burn before that happened.

Hang on a minute, let’s check.

Nope, still snow on the ground.

Okay, more plausibly, did he lose his mind?

Let’s tone it down a little; Maybe this was a—albeit not funny—joke?

“What are you on about?”

The demon picked up the picture. “Grell.” He rushed towards Ciel, putting the picture in front of his eyes—“Get that out of my face!”—“Do you think he’d ever want to be with someone like me?”

The earl began to laugh, a fake, loud laugh, then abruptly stopped.

“Very funny, Sebastian, you like Grell. Can we get back to work now?”

Sebastian grabbed a book off his table and Ciel had to duck to keep it from hitting his head.

“What are you on?!”

“I may be cleverly witty when the situation calls for it, but I am not joking, Young Master! And I’d thank you to treat my beloved one with respect!”

Ciel blanched, his eyes glued open, swallowing the bile that rose in his throat. “You mean this,” he pointed to the situation at hand, the words soft and enunciated, a nervous laugh behind them, “This isn’t a joke?”

“No!” he cradled the picture, “I think Grell’s the most lovely person I ever met.”

He waited for the butler to burst into laughter.

…and he kept waiting.

He knew more than anyone, neither master nor butler pulled stunts of this caliber.

Ciel grabbed one of the scrolls on the wall and wacked his butler over the head with it.

“Quit playing around! We don’t have time for children’s games!”

“I don’t understand, Young Master,” he rubbed his head (as if that could possibly hurt the demon). “You aren’t insulting Master Grell, are you?”

“No, I’m insulting you, you twat!”

He swiped the picture from him (hurt flared in the butler’s eyes). “You see how the glass is shattered here?”

He placed his hand over his heart. “Who would do a thing like that to such a perfect face?”

“You, you bloody idiot! Don’t you remember?” he smacked his head with the paper again, making it crease, “When Grell gave you that you tossed it into the drawer and said you ‘wanted to see him at no times.’”

“Me?” he snatched the picture back, holding it tight to his chest. “No, I would never!” he said like Grell was the purest little ray of sunshine, and Ciel said he’d kicked a puppy yesterday.

“No, what you would never, is return said…” he cleared his throat and didn’t finish the sentence.

“I don’t understand, Young Master. Here I am, bearing my heart. Why must you squash it?”

His eye twitched. “To remind you you don’t have a heart!”

“I—”

“Shut up! Just shut up!” he slammed his hands on the desk, “There’s no way this can be real!” he slumped onto the desk and ran his hand through his hair, looking more deranged than the one who was actually delirious, “Why, in all that is—How—Why would you ever—?!”

“Be careful, Young Master, don’t let that anger fester; it’s bad for your health.”

And it dawned on him.

He slammed his palm into his forehead.

The punch at the party—it was so obvious. Undertaker had even told him it didn’t contain alcohol.

“Young Master, are you saying our love is not real? Are you insulting master Grell?” his voice became a sickening tone.

Ciel now fully understood the situation: Sebastian, having been given a love-potion—(turns out they did work on him…or, even if they didn’t, maybe Undertaker made some extra-potent, mutant variety that did)—and Grell being the first person he saw (or heard) after taking it, fully believed Grell to be his one-true-love.

And as he watched a shadow (much bigger than the demon’s human shape) spread across the floor, he realized he believed it enough to attack anyone who stood against said love. Even his master.

The young earl knocked into desks as he scrambled way, his outward attitude towards the situation performing a 180:

“Uh, no no! No, no, no! I believe you!” he grabbed his bag, “There’s nothing weird or horrifying about you being in love with Grell at all. I just was a little…mmmm surprised!” his voice went up an octave. He shoved a desk into the space between them, “That’s all?! I’ll…I’ll just be going, now! You uh…you go back to…what you were doing!” he gave him a thumbs up (something he’d never done in his life) as dashed out the door.

After getting some ways down the hall, he doubled over, breath sharp and fast, piercing his side, his thoughts whirring around.

He’d wanted to mess with Sebastian, but he, first of all, hadn’t thought it would work, and second of all, hadn’t meant to mess with him this much—especially not in a way that affected him. This wasn’t fun or funny, this was just…gross. And now he had to fix it, when, had he left the situation alone and not given Sebastian the punch in the first place, he’d have his demon butler to help him, and the predicament would probably be solved in less than a day.

Now when he saw the students making out, or walking around dazed, he understood the full ramifications of Undertaker’s little stunt.

Speaking of which…

He heightened his pace until he was rushing through the halls, speeding past dreamy eyes, and cuddly couples.

Everyone, everyone had been at that party. Not only had the whole school been at that party, the punch was one of the few things available for the sweaty and thirsty dancers to drink. Even the sulking folks, who didn't intend to dance, surely wouldn't have had a problem grabbing a snack or two, and, well, a cup of punch to go with it. Now instead of one night of suffering in a lovebird’s playground, the whole school could be set to pop music. And, like the villain in a fairy tale, it was his job to break apart the happy couples.

And his first order of business was to find the mastermind who put them together.

Undertaker performed many of the odd jobs around, and often made it a job to make things odd (but Ciel of course knew that his primary function was probably to make dead bodies disappear discreetly). He and Peeves were overly chummy, and their pranks could sometimes be unbearable…but neither had ever attempted something of this magnitude before.

He was close to Filch’s corridor—

When the bell rang.

In the pandemonium he had forgotten today was still a normal school day.

“Sebast—” he began, hoping for an easy way not to be late, but remembered that his butler was …otherwise occupied. He grit his teeth, clenched his fists, and hurtled towards the transfiguration classroom.

*****

“Mister Phantomhive!” snapped a clipped voice as he swung open the door, gasping for breath. “I thank you not to be late! And while you’re at it, not to disrupt my class while in session!”

“Sorry—” he clutched at his side, “Professor— McGonagall.”

“Usually,” she ran her fingers along her wand, stretching out the word, “I would give you detention. However, as it seems you are not the only one…out of sorts this morning” she drummed her fingers on the podium, giving Ciel a moment to look around the room—There were always a few latecomers, especially during first period, but the number of empty chairs rivaled the number of students present—“I will let you off with a warning.”

“Thank you,” he coughed—“Professor.”—And slumped at his desk like an old sock.

Thankfully not everyone had been affected by the spiked punch. Certain kids in class had that far-off look in their eyes, and a few even kissed in class (they were definitely sent to detention, though, of course, nothing much mattered to them but their newfound love). There were also teachers who had starry looks, and instead of giving them genuine lessons, muttered trite words about love, like a broken radio that only plays emo songs. There were, however, others who acted just as confused, annoyed and shell-shocked as Ciel at the current predicament. Clearly they had either found something else to drink at the party, simply not drank anything, or escaped the festivities somehow.

McGonagall was clearly among the unaffected, and while he was grateful for a little normalcy, he might have traded her for someone a little more lenient, and liked to see how her disposition changed while under the affects of love.

Throughout the day, he told the few students who were still awake and alive to the world that someone had spiked the punch with a love potion the previous night. This seemed to give them relief that they weren’t going crazy, still, none of them had any idea what to do about it. Love potions weren’t exactly considered an important course in potions class, especially not with a teacher like Snape—(in fact, a certain Ravenclaw had asked how to make a love potion in class on Valentine’s Day, and later Ciel saw that Ravenclaw mysteriously lost ten points). Some worried for their friends, while others eyes lit with an impish glint at the realization that—as long as they didn’t insult their ‘true love’— they could do anything to mess with their friends.

He had to give Undertaker at least a little credit: that day was one of the most memorable in his entire time at Hogwarts:

During transfiguration, on multiple separate occasions, students, instead of transfiguring their hamsters into dominoes, transfigured them into rings, and flowers used to profess their love, or even propose to Professor McGonagall herself. She only looked down her nose, and demanded where this talent had been the entire semester, and wracked up a body count of detention-bound students.

In Herbology, while not nearly as exciting as others, Professor Sprout went on and on about how amazing Neville was—(whenever he passed him in the hallway that day Neville looked as red as plants they tended to...He probably hadn’t had much of anyone else to talk to at the party).

If Divination wasn’t enough already, Trelawney made them look into their futures and see their potential for romance (…it was hard to tell if she was under the spell or not), and it was both worth noting, and a source of personal pride that she looked into Ciel’s and saw lots and lots of hate.

And best of all, during potions, which was his last class of the day, Snape looked like he was ready to kill someone…and got close when Lockhart burst in and proclaimed that he simply couldn’t take it anymore, that they were made for each other. (Out of all the the crazy, embarrassing things that happened that day, this was the one Ciel guessed would be the most difficult for either of them to live down).

Hilarious confessions aside, Ciel was relieved to find that the potions master was at least trying to counteract the curse himself, by having them make antidotes and anti-love potions, and drink them (allegedly, lots of students refused to drink them in earlier classes, so he had to forgo their Latin name and call them “Happy Sunshine Potions,” which was quite possibly the best string of words he’d ever heard Snape say, and the unaffected students looked like chipmunks holding in their laughter in when hearing it). Although this was another teacher Ciel would have liked to see under the affects, he was guessing the net worth of breaking the curse would be far greater.

However, as far as he could tell, currently, Snape’s attempts to douse the proverbial fire were ineffective. (Yet another reason to think Undertaker’s love potion was some mutant version).

At each break he had, Ciel attempted to find Undertaker—(Except at lunch, when everyone was screaming that Draco was running around, and in increasingly boisterous and/or risqué methods, trying to declare his love for Ron Weasley. While Harry and Ron were also running around, either avoiding him at all costs, or messing with him. It was, first of all, difficult to get around the crowd, and, second of all, not something to miss.)—But Undertaker had an ongoing disappearing act that had nothing to do with magic. The one thing Ciel knew, was that the old coot couldn’t have left; he’d want to see every glorious minute of the chaos he wrought, so Ciel wasn’t giving up on finding him.

After school, hungry, tired, and desperate (especially after a run-in with Peeves, through which he earned the ex-reaper’s location, but also a cluster of lipstick marks on his face) he finally found Undertaker back in the Divination Classroom (of course he just had to pick one of the tallest, most tiring towers to climb). The room was cold, and Trelawney was nowhere in sight.

The pretty, setting sky over the frosty roof outside didn’t provide an iota of solace.

Ciel rolled up his sleeves, his anger a newfound immunity to the cold, and, with fingers curled into fists, marched up to him.

“You.”

The Undertaker, resting against the windowsill, turned to the seething boy, grinned, and spoke as if this was no more than an ordinary meeting.

“My, Young Earl, looks like you’ve been getting busy.”

“Wh—?!” he remembered the marks on his face and rubbed them off on his sleeve as Undertaker cackled.

“You seem awfully upset about something,” Undertaker continued, “Don’t want to let it fester—as your butler would say.”

“You spiked the punch with a love potion.” The boy growled.

“Did I?” he put a finger on his chin as if thinking, “I can’t seem to recall.”

Ciel’s brow twitched. “You bloody well know you did, I watched you. Now tell me how to undo it.”

“How do undo it, you say? And why would we want to do a thing like that?”

“I am in no mood for your games.”

Undertaker shrugged. “‘Fraid I can’t help you then. You know the rules; no payment, no information.”

“The whole school is a joke! That’s your payment!”

He contemplated it. “Sure you wouldn’t like to give an old man a good chuckle?”

“I’m certain.”

He sighed. “I suppose you got me there. To tell you the truth, I hadn’t quite got to the whole undoing it part.” He twirled his hand in the air like the ringmaster in this show.

Ciel blinked, emotion flickering as he spluttered, “How can…? But you—? I—? What?!”

He laughed, and the Undertaker’s nonchalance and disregard made anger jumpstart his tongue.

“You made it, didn’t you?” he kept his voice low, and his hand on the wand in his pocket, marching forward, “You can at least tell me how you made it. Then maybe I can unmake it.”

Undertaker tapped his chin, as if knocking around the marbles in his skull, “Don’t much feel like it.”

“You don’t feel like it?! Listen here—!”

He no sooner pulled out his wand than it was in Undertaker’s hand. He hadn’t even noticed Undertaker draw his own wand.

Undertaker ruffled his hair as he walked by, dropping the boy’s wand back into his pocket, “Part of the fun is figuring it out for yourself, Young Earl. Didn’t anyone ever teach you that?”

He headed down the stairs, leaving Ciel standing alone, angry breaths steaming up the chilly classroom.

*****

When Ciel trudged back to his dorm, all the energy he had used to run around that day had given up the ghost. He barely noticed the smooching and starstruck kids in the hallways anymore, and didn’t have the energy to send even a derisive snort their way.

Sebastian was supposed to be the one running around trying to find answers. These menial tasks were beneath him. Hard work, and running around, looking for answers, was no suit for a fourteen-year-old boy to wear. Oh, Ciel would devise a particularly difficult and useless task for his butler to accomplish once he—or someone—finally broke the curse.

Caught up in thoughts of needless revenge, he ran into someone in the hallway, sending both their books to the floor.

“Sorry!” The boy called.

As they both crouched down to pick up their fallen items, Ciel looked up to see unruly black hair, crooked glasses, and lightning-struck forehead.

“Harry Potter.”

“Yeah…?”

“Sorry, I don’t believe we’ve formally met. I’m Ciel Phantomhive.” He held out his hand.

“Nice to meet you,” Harry smiled, taking his hand.

“Likewise—er, sorry about your books.”

"It's alright. I seem to have some bad luck with that lately! At least ink didn't spill all over everything this time."

"That happened?"

"Yeah...It happened yesterday actually."

"Oh, that sounds awful."

"Nothing a little magic couldn't fix," he shrugged.

They both returned to their task.

“It looks like you haven’t been…love-ified,” Harry noted.

“You seem to have your wits about you as well.”

“Lucky us…Draco wasn’t so lucky though,” he laughed. “I heard someone spiked the punch at Lockhart’s Valentine’s day ball.”

“I heard that too.”

“A perfect end to the night, huh?”

“Hehe…yeah…”

Ciel turned to the next book, about to hand it to Harry.

Here’s the thing, about dark magic.

It has this sort of…pull. The more you use it, the more sway it has on you.

A pure soul looks at a dark object and feels uneasy, but doesn’t know why.

Someone who has participated in the dark before, let it creep in and corrode the soul, is attuned to the darkness. Like a resonant frequency, a humming in the back of their mind, putting them on the same wavelength, (and if they listen too long, they might shatter). They may not always know what it is, or does, and sometimes they wont recognize why something has this aura, but they will know that an object is not just that, in as much as darkness is not just the absence of the light.

Ciel Phantomhive was no ordinary student. While he may have learned from the teachers at Hogwarts, the reason he was here was at the request of the Queen, not for learning, and his most informative teacher, was Sebastian. Before they arrived at Hogwarts, Sebastian, going above and beyond as always, made sure he knew more spells than half the students in his year. More importantly, however, fear of the dark had long left them both. Knowing dark magic, they surmised, would put them ahead of their enemies (not to mention their friends...well, if you could call them friends), and could be a powerful trump card were the situation to call for it.

When Ciel looked at this diary everything slowed. Like in a movie, when you can hear your heartbeat, and the camera zooms in. From the moment he saw it he knew it would be both silly and dangerous to think it was merely a diary. One may pour their soul into the words dear diary, but the Something that lurked beneath it’s pages was far more than the heartfelt and trivial adages of teenage boys and girls. There was something living in those pages.

He knew it was alive. Unlike other dark artifacts, which gave off a hint, a whisper of more-than-I-seem, this was more than a whiff of untapped potential, or forbidden mystery; the resonant darkness, rather than a faint, inanimate hum, was a Horror singing old-fashioned lullabies to himself in the darkest corners of the pages.

Ciel was tired. Tired of running around, tired of searching for a cure, tired of doing all the work himself. He wanted an easy way out. That’s how he’d always been. People who like to take the long way ‘round don’t make contracts with demons.

So, in a moment of weakness…

…or a moment of strength

He slipped the diary into his own bag.

*****

That night, despite being interested enough in the book to steal it, he hadn’t had any energy to begin figuring out what that darkness was, meant, or could do. Nor did he have any energy to spend on figuring out the antidote to the plague himself. In fact, he had had so little regard for either, that he ignored the dumb looks of his roommates, slipped the diary into the chest at the foot of his bed, flopped facedown on top of his covers (screaming into his pillows for good measure), and went to sleep.

The next morning wasn’t much better. He woke up with a splitting headache, the love-zombies were still up to their shenanigans—(he half hoped it would end in the morning)—and when he tentatively checked on Sebastian, the demon had traveled further down the Grell-obsessed rabbit hole than before.

When Ciel entered the teacher’s lounge (it had taken a moment to find him) the smell of flowers smacked him full in the face. Unlike some of the teachers present, Ciel was unimpressed, and quite honestly queasy, to see that he had moved on from admiring the picture of his affection, to creating his own; or rather than a picture, a bust made of flowers of none other than his…erm lady-love, Grell.

Just like Sebastian, he was attentive to detail; only the freshest of flowers for his beloved, and each component of Grell’s complexion was a different flower: the coat was made of red Amaryllis’, the vest, brown orchids, the shirt, white hydrangeas, the face was pale dahlias, the eyes were green carnations, and the hair was, of course, roses. He wondered if Sebastian went far to find all of them, though knowing him he probably ran to the finest flower shop in Paris at 1:00AM that morning for them and was back before anyone could wonder where he’d gone.

Yes, quite far gone. But not far enough to forget the ‘offense’ Ciel had caused to his new master the day before.

Or perhaps Ciel had caused him new offense by blurting out “What the devil is this?!” upon seeing his labor-of-love.

If it was good idea in general for the public not to talk to the young earl, today, it was an inescapable rule: if people didn’t give him a wide berth, they learned quickly he was not in the mood for human (or reaper, or demon) interaction.

Wasting his time before class on pointless attempts to slap the delusion out of his butler was idiotic. So he headed to the library to actually try and make some progress, and picked up a book on love potions—(Madam Pince was too busy writing love poems to scold kids like him for going into the restricted section. Knowing this was a rare opportunity, he grabbed several more books he’d had his eyes on while he was there.)—with the intent to read up on counter curses every spare minute he got, not excluding during certain classes overtaken by horny teachers.

More students were missing from classes today, and those who weren’t were either more randy than before, or losing patience and brain cells every second they were around those afflicted. The teachers who were still in possession of their faculties—namely McGonagall, Snape, Vector, and Flitwick, (Madam Pomfrey was too, but she wasn’t present)—made an announcement at lunch, in front of their dreamy-eyed headmaster, that they were trying their best to find a solution to the problem presently.

While it was comforting to hear they weren’t sitting on their asses, and it would save him a hell of a lot of trouble if they did solve it, he didn’t expect they’d figure it out anytime soon. If Snape couldn’t figure it out on his own, he wasn’t sure they would have much luck, even together. Even if he had had faith in them, he wouldn’t have stopped his own research. He and Sebastian always did it their way, this was personality, not practice—(he’d learned from a young age he couldn’t rely on anyone else)—and a setback, even one that kept his butler from his work, wasn’t going to stop him.

It was during a disappointing lunch that he saw a flash of red in the doorway to the great hall. At first he thought nothing of it—it was probably a banner some kid made to impress their one-true-love, or a bunch of heart-shaped balloons, or a leftover decoration—it didn’t matter, he was going to try his best to eat, and read, in peace.

Until the ‘banner’ came inside to steal his food.

When he finally realized who it was, he practically screamed;

“Grell!”

“That’s my name darling, don’t to wear it out,” he blew a kiss, sitting up on the table.

“Love potions, huh?” in his horror, Ciel hadn’t even noticed Ronald had stolen the book (as well as a sandwich).

“Ooh!” Grell called, leaning in closer, raising his eyebrows. “Is somebody looking to trick some poor soul into loving him?”

“No! No, in fact I’m trying to un-romance someone, thank you very much.” He stood.

“That shouldn’t be too hard…for you.”

Ciel rolled his eyes.

“So, not that crushing the dreams of others isn’t in your repertoire, why do you want to do that?”

“It may be difficult for you to understand, but some of us don’t look for romance in every guy they meet,” he stole the book back from Ronald (who was starting to to look too interested for the young earl’s comfort.)

“Now that’s just rude,” Grell folded his arms over his chest and put his chin in his hand. “But, I’ll choose to ignore your impotence,” he turned, becoming more animated, “because you’re in charge of my Sebas-chan. Speaking of love,” he said the word like it was fine caramel, “where is my precious Sebas-chan?” he looked around, casting his eyes towards the blank spaces at staff table.

“He’s—”

Before the sentence could fall on his tongue, the words snagged on the mental image of Grell and Sebastian canoodling like schoolboys.

“NO!”

That caught their attention.

“I mean uh—” he coughed, “No…He’s uhh…I…”

He could barely think with these images making him sick to his stomach. He set down what was left of the lunch he was no longer hungry for, trying to shove his brain into the mode where it could formulate a cunning plan.

“Well? Spit it out, boy! We haven’t got all day! Some of us have plans. I, for one, have a hair appointment this afternoon,” he fluffed his crimson locks.

“You know what?” Ciel chose a more confrontational approach. “I don’t have to tell you where Sebastian is.”

“You don’t have to, darling, you should want to.”

“No. You know what? I don’t want to. And you know why I don’t want to?”

“I have a feeling you’re going to tell me.”

He had to think of something fast. Something clever. A good excuse.

“Why don’t you ever want to spend time with me?” he slammed the book on the table.

So much for that.

“Huh?” Grell, Ronald—(and Ciel’s own brain)—responded upon hearing the words.

“Yeah. You heard me.” It wasn’t the best plan—hell, it wasn’t even a good plan—but Ciel was committed at this point, and came up with a plot fiercely in his mind, “That’s right. It’s always ‘Sebastian this’, ‘Sebastian that’, but what about me?!”

“What about you, brat? You’ve never shown any interest in me. What happened to ‘we’re definitely not friends?’” he mocked his voice.

“….That’s what I say to my true friends.” They definitely weren’t convinced, so he added, “I’m only nice to my fake friends.” (Ronald lifted his head like a dog being told he was a good boy all along).

“Regardless if you’re telling the truth—which, I don’t believe you are—what makes you think I’ll give you the key to my heart now, after you threw away your chances? That’s no way to treat a lady!”

“I…I never had the chance to,” he looked away and hugged himself, trying to look pitiful, “what with you fawning over Sebas…chan,”—it made him sick to speak the nickname, but not as sick as he would feel if they found each other— “you never even pay me any mind.”

“What’s there to pay mind to?”

Ciel bit his tongue, and tried not to let that get to him, reminding himself everything could and would be far worse.

“Hey, hey!” Ronald stepped in the middle, noticing the rising tension of the scene, “There’s a simple solution after all; why don’t you and Mr. Sutcliff go for a walk today? That’s not too much to ask, right?” he turned to Grell, “You’ll still have time to see Sebas-chan before your appointment.”

“I suppose,” Grell bit his nails, ruining his manicure—which he quickly realized, and petted them as if to say ‘forgive me!’ “But I’d better get some quality time with my Sebas-chan!”

“Does that sound alright with you, Mr. Phantomhive?”

The thought of spending any amount of quality time with the reaper was repugnant. But not more repugnant than certain other thoughts and predictions his brain was happy to provide.

“Yes, that sounds just fine.”

“Then let’s get this overwith,” Grell stepped dramatically off the table, twirling his high-heeled shoes in the air.

Ciel’s thoughts exactly.

But there was something he had to do first.

“Erm, Ronald, would you mind doing something for me while we’re on our walk?”

Grell put his hands on his hips, suspicion and curiosity in his eyes.

“Uhh sure—I mean, that depends on what it is”

He pulled Ronald aside, towards the wall, out of earshot of the red-haired reaper.

“I just need to buy some time,” he whispered, “Will you please get Sebastian out of the teacher’s lounge for me.”

“Um…” he glanced between the two of them. “I suppose I could. May I ask why?”

“No you may not.” When Ronald seemed less than happy with this response, he added, “I can pay you back. Money, sandwiches…whatever you want.”

“Well, when you put it like that,” he grinned.

“Alright, Grell,” he cleared his throat, “it appears as though you and I will be going for a nice walk together.”

“‘Nice’ would be pushing it.” Grell muttered.

Ciel couldn’t agree more.

*****

The scene reminded him too much of a Thomas Kinkade painting; the snow covered trees and grounds, the faint chirping of birds, the pitter of small animals in the snow, the patter of kids playing, as well as more than a few romantic escapades displayed for all the world to see—like everything else in this sugarcoated nightmare, it was so sweet and was sickening. Ciel spent great lengths trying to avoid the mystic hellscape that was ‘outside,’ and whenever he found himself forced into its grasp, he remembered why.

Well, he supposed it wouldn’t have been so bad…if it weren’t for the blithering idiot beside him.

“Yeesh… love really is in the air around Valentine’s day.” Grell commented in the direction of the kids kissing by the frozen river.

“Oh? I thought romance was…your thing.”

“When I’m involved! Not these ragamuffins slobbering all over each other,” he shuddered.

They spent a while in awkward silence, before Grell spoke, “So, what do I have to do to get you off my back, Brat?”

“Ohh just spend a little quality time with me,” Ciel sang, putting his hands behind his back and stepping in front of Grell like a mischievous schoolboy. “That isn’t too much to ask, is it?”

Grell looked away. “I better be Carlos’ last customer today; my hair’s going to be a mess by the end of this.”

Ciel laughed fakely.

“So…” Ciel tried to think of something to talk about, “tell me about Carlos. Is he…cute?”

“Oh come on!” Grell stomped in front of him, “You can’t possibly mean any of this! You’ve never shown any amount of interest in me. I may be prone to fantasy, but I’m no fool!” he crossed his arms and looked away, then his green eyes trailed to him suspiciously, “What are you plotting?”

“Plotting?” Ciel laughed again, “Why so sinister?”

“Oh things are always sinister when Sebas-chan is involved,” he said ‘sinister’ like a radio announcer telling you that sinister is what you want, “usually it sends tingles down my spine! But this is just…” he looked down at the earl, his lip curling in distaste, “freaky.”

Ciel tried to ignore the fact that they were on the same brainwave today.

But he could see that he wasn’t going to fool him for long if he didn’t do something.

“Well…” Instead of formulating a suitable answer, he subtly pulled his wand from his robe pocket sliding it behind his back, and cast a little nonverbal spell that sent a snowball hurtling at the back of Grell’s head.

“Hey!” Grell spun around to two kids playing on the bank. “Which one of you imbeciles did that?! Haven’t I suffered enough?” he held up a split end of his hair.

The kids glanced at each other, confused.

“Now Carlos will have to give me the extra treatment to cover this!” he took a strand of hair and petted it.

Ciel smirked.

Messing with the reaper seemed both more effective, and more enjoyable, than chatting, so whenever a risky topic came up, he had a little extra fun avoiding the subject (goodness knows he needed it)—until enough time had passed that, if Ronald had done his job, Sebastian would be out of the teachers’ lounge, and they headed back into the school.

“Sebastian’s right around the corner.”

“He better be, Brat, after the hell-walk you took me on.” Ciel tried not to laugh when he looked at Grell—the sticks in his frazzled hair, the smeared mascara and lipstick, the muddy clothes (he had eventually stopped trying to protect or fix his appearance).

Ciel gave the fake laugh again, opening the door.

Despite requests and expectations, Sebastian was right around the corner.

There the demon remained (apparently he had been there all day) with a finished bust of the reaper sparkling beside him, not to mention a few more, smaller art pieces of the Redhead in different poses of increasing erotica.

Ciel felt all the anger that had been briefly soothed by messing with Grell re-entering his body with ferocity.

Why hadn’t Ronald removed him from this place like he asked? All he asked for was one simple thing, and he couldn’t even do that. Well, maybe it was his own fault he had put his trust in someone so incompetent as Ronald. Whoever’s fault it was, this encounter, and the memory of it, might just stain his brain forever, and someone was surely going to pay for it.

He turned towards Grell (the real one). Both his eyes and mouth were open wide, focused on the statue of himself, leering down at him with a flirtatious grin.

When the butler emerged from behind it, and saw Grell, he too froze, but in the quiet, reverent way the hot dude does when they see their love in romantic movies.

Ciel wanted to grab one, or both, of them and wrench them away from each other—exorcise the romantic spirits out of them (it’s an odd day when you want to exorcise a demon out of a demon), and maybe wring their necks—but he knew that would be met with more than a little resistance, (and using the Imperius curse in the teacher’s lounge would be more than a little conspicuous), and there was something rather mesmerizing about the scene; like a horror movie you can’t bring yourself to look away from.

Sebastian closed his eyes, giving a small smile before rushing to grab a rather large bouquet (likely made of the leftover flowers) and bowed, presenting them to Grell.

“For you, my darling Mr. Sutcliff.”

Ciel covered his eyes with his hand.

“For…me?” Grell’s words were distant and confused.

Rather than taking them with honors—Ciel saw between his fingers—however, he took a step back.

Sebastian held them higher. “Only you.”

Grell glanced between master and butler, and his hands shook as he took them (then his arms sagged with the weight).

Ciel shut his eyes tight, waiting for hell.

Soon the scene would turn into the amorous novel Grell always dreamed of, and that would be it. They’d find love in each other…or what passed for love when it comes to love potions. Should Ciel leave now and spare his mind the eternal horror? Or should he wait and just make absolutely sure that’s what would happen? Maybe there was some sick part of him that was even curious what would happen.

His patience, however, was rewarded;

“Get away from me you freak!” Grell threw the flowers across the room, and rushed to hide behind Ciel. “What the hell have you done with my precious Sebas-chan?!”

This time it was Ciel’s mouth and eyes that dropped open, staring, dumbstruck, like a bird that had hit a window.

Grell had flirted with Sebastian from the moment he met him (to be fair, he did this with pretty much every attractive guy he came across, still…). There were times when master and butler could use this infatuation to their advantage, but most of the time it was just a gigantic nuisance. Luckily, Sebastian shared Ciel’s distaste for the reaper’s advances, and never returned them. Since it had seemed impossible, before today, Ciel hadn’t had much time to imagine what Grell would do if the butler returned his affection. Not one of the sickening scenarios his mind had provided today had Grell rejecting Sebastian. Grell had always appeared superficial enough that Ciel guessed he wouldn’t care how or why Sebastian returned his feelings, just that he did. The fact that he could tell this was not Sebastian’s normal self made Ciel think slightly higher of the reaper.

But only slightly.

Maybe it should have made sense; it was the flirtation; the game, that Grell enjoyed, more than true romance, and heart. He had said so himself—he was just as disgusted by the teen romances in the courtyard as Ciel. (Though, to be fair, most adults generally found teen romance to be gross).

He couldn’t help but feel a growing pride and satisfaction that he would not have to witness any romance, or worse. That the roles of disgust had now reversed, and Grell could walk a mile in their shoes. Not that he thought Grell would become a better, less annoying person after this.

“I…don’t understand,” Sebastian’s eyes were full of welling hurt. He stood, staring at the discarded bouquet (which had all but exploded on the wall), “I’ve done everything for you…” he gestured around the room, “I thought this is what you wanted.” He looked at Grell like a puppy who had been thrown from a warm and loving upper-class home, out into the streets of London. He pulled out the picture he had barely stopped staring at since the other day, “Remember?” he held it up, “You said you would always be with me.”

Grell seemed torn, almost like Sebastian’s puppy-like disappointment drew his pity, but he backed away further, (still holding on to Ciel, almost making him fall backwards).

“What is this?!” he pointed, “Some kind of sick prank?! I want my sexy, coy Sebas-chan, back! Not this coddling fool!”

Ciel had to bite his lip to keep from grinning. This was too rich.

Sebastian looked at the ground, sadness, anger, rejection flaring in his eyes. Ciel would have liked to stay and enjoy Grell’s blubbering a little more, but he could see a demon-sized tantrum coming a mile away.

He didn’t make it a practice to touch pests like Grell, but in this case, he didn’t have much choice; he grabbed Grell and pulled him out the door, dragging him down the hall.

“What the hell is going on?!” Grell ripped his hand from the boy’s grasp and blocked his way, “Who was that idiot?!”

Ciel could barely breathe from laughing.

Grell blinked at him, then anger flared in his eyes again. Before he could catch his breath, Grell grabbed the boy’s shoulders and shook him, “What have you done with my Sebas-chan, you little Punk?!”

This made him regain composure quickly. He brushed his hands away and explained, “You remember the Valentine’s ball Lockhart threw?”

“Of course. My Sebas-chan was looking particularly dashing that night,” he blinked dreamily, then his expression changed as he remembered he had just seen Sebastian, and he was not so dashing today as previously advertised. “What did you do to him?!”

“I didn’t do anything!” he half-lied, “Undertaker was the one who spiked the punch with a love potion.”

“Undertaker’s the cause of this?! He took my Sebas-chan from me?! Oh that sexy bastard hasn’t seen the last of me!” he started to march past the earl.

Ciel blocked Grell’s way. “I already talked to him. He didn’t have the antidote.”

“Well maybe he just needs a little roughing up!” he rolled up his sleeves and tried again to go around him.

“You really think a man who takes pleasure in ruining other people’s lives will help us fix this?” he said to his back.

Grell stopped, turned around, “Well you would know wouldn’t you?!” He looked away, biting his lip. “You put him back then!” he shoved his chest.

“Why do you think I was reading that book about love potions?!”

That quieted his rage slightly.

In that moment, a certain student walked by, though not one of Hogwarts. He was surrounded by a gaggle of girls, and didn’t even see them.

Levicorpus! Ciel cast, and the girls’ gasped as Ronald was hoisted into the air by his ankle, his clothes hanging off him (showing off his stomach, and a bit of his underwear—the girls’ blushed and giggled).

“Whoa, whoa! What’s this—?! Oh…” the young reaper blinked upon seeing Ciel, recalling the task the earl had given him, and he rubbed the back of his head giving a mock-sheepish smile, “Hehe.”

Ciel tapped his foot impatiently on the floor. “Would you care to offer an explanation?”

Now that he knew Grell had no intentions or returning Sebastian’s artificial affection, the fact that Ronald hadn’t accomplished the task wasn’t nearly as big of a deal, but it could have easily been catastrophic, the anger was still there—someone had to pay, after all—and letting those who disobeyed him off, without even a decent scolding, was a bad precedent.

“I’m sorry, Earl, but these girls…they just kept coming up to me! There must be something in the air today!” he held out his hands as if to say you really think I was going to turn them away?

Ciel rubbed his temple, muttering, “Nope it was in the punch.” He sighed, taking a step forward like a predator. “I’m going to let you off this time, but believe me, I won’t be making that mistake again.”

“Come on, it was an honest mistake!”

“And an honest—”

“Mister Phantomhive!” a deep voice rang out across the hallway.

Ciel winced.

“…Professor Snape.”

His footsteps were a judgment toll.

“Care to release Mister…?” he looked at Ronald quizzically, realizing he didn’t recognize him.

“Knox,” the reaper offered.

“Knox.”

“Yes, Sir.” Ciel murmured.

Liberacorpus he cast, nonverbally, and the reaper spun in the air until he was set upright again.

Strictly speaking, they weren’t allowed to do magic outside class, and the curse on the school evidently hadn’t made the potions master forgo any of the traditional rules.

“I’d like to know who you two are, and what you’re doing at Hogwarts.” Ciel felt a little smug thinking of the potential trouble they could get into….until Snape turned “As for you, Mr. Phantomhive…”

“Yes, Professor?” he said politely, as if his politeness could suddenly change his heart and get him a less-harsh punishment.

“Detention.”

“…Yes, Professor.”

Ciel glanced at Grell, who had crossed his arms and whose look said it’s-what-you-deserve.

“Well!” Grell broke the tension. “We can certainly explain who we are and what we are doing here…at a later date. As of now, I have an increasingly important appointment to get to—Good Professor, I’m so sorry you had to see me like this, I promise wont look this bad when when we next meet!” he bowed low, “Come along, Ronald!”

“Yes, Mr. Sutcliff!” He blew a kiss towards the girls.

“This isn’t over” Grell whispered in Ciel’s ear as he skipped by.

“Nothing ever is with you, is it?” he muttered.

“What’s that?” Snape raised an eyebrow.

“Nothing, just excited for my detention!”

Snape raised an eyebrow, perhaps wondering if Ciel was under the spell after all.

*****

Ciel didn’t even go to class that afternoon, as it was double Defense Against the Dark Arts. Once again he returned to his dorm, and flopped onto his bed. He had only made it halfway through the day this time, and he was already drained. After some time resting (though his mind raced too much to actually take a nap), he finished skimming through the book on love potions. In the end, the only help it gave was a comprehensive list of the usual ingredients in love potions.

As he was putting the book away a diary fell out of the trunk at the foot of his bed. In the fatigue of the evening, and the tumult of the day, he had forgotten about his run-in with Harry yesterday.

He picked it up; the same simple, dusty, empty notebook as before—the simple, dusty notebook that was seething with dark magic. When he opened it to the first page he saw the smudged name T. M. Riddle. He hadn’t thought it was Harry’s in the first place, but was still displeased that the name didn’t sound familiar to him. He wondered if he was a student who dabbled in dark magic. Still, the power it held seemed more than what a mere student could conjure…

Ciel had never been one for feelings and the kind of sentimentality a diary implied, but it couldn’t hurt to try it out. There wasn’t much else to do but write in it. Evidently it wasn’t just a diary.

Setting it down on his desk, he flipped it open to the first blank page, got out his quill, dipped it in the ink, and began to write:

“February 16th

“Two days ago, Undertaker spiked the punch at Lockhart’s god-awful Valentine’s ball with a love potion.

“Now Hogwarts is infested with a swarm of insolent, love-struck zombies, because Undertaker is a—”

As he wrote, the words, instead of staying in place like words should, they were swallowed by the paper. As the earl stared, the ink resurfaced like a serpent beneath water, a reply forming from secondhand ink.

“My, that does sound awful.”

The words disappeared as soon as they came, then reappeared…

“Perhaps I could be of assistance.”

6 notes · View notes