#I truly felt such relief when I finally got home this eve

[oooocleo]

voilá!

[hypnos21]

Hello hello! Happy NYE!! Here is my contribution to the Redacted Winter Gift Exchange! My piece is written to @autisticempathydaemon !! I hope you enjoy it, please let me know! Happy holidays!! I got a little carried away with the prompt, but I hope it's to your liking!!

Prompt: Milo and Sweetheart’s second Christmas, and Milo is unsure of what present his partner truly wants. No gift seems good enough, and its christmas eve! Sweetheart, on the other hand, knows exactly what to get Milo. However, it can change the relationship. Sweetheart is scared of ruining what they have. How will the duo present their gifts, and how will the relationship take it?

“I feel like I’ve been here for hours.” Milo thought deeply, analyzing the note on his phone for what appeared to be the billionth time. He had every piece of information he could need about them. Shirt size, pant size, shoe size, favorite book and game genre, anything and everything he could need. Yet, it still didn’t seem that the list was enough. The annoyed sound that left his throat harbored a few looks, but he didn’t care. All he cared about was what to get for his sweetheart. He smiled softly. Sweetheart. The name still caused his heart to flutter in his chest, his core to sing at the very thought of their smile, their laugh. 

Wandering around the variety of shops had helped slightly, turning the cogs in his brain in the right direction, finally. He picked up a few other Christmas purchases, a new sweater for David, (black in color, but soft in texture, David couldn’t stand the feeling of rough wool), a new co-op game for Ash, (aka a new game to be better than Asher in), and a few small gifts for Sweetheart. Little things, items to store in the stocking above the mantle in their home. He smiled, the thought of their home, a safe place for them to be together, a small piece of what their future could look like. He absentmindedly shopped, new apartments on the brain when the thought, more literally than he expected, crashed into him. As he bent down to pick up the books, the recipe books, an idea came to him. One thing he knew about Sweetheart that wasn’t on his list, was their absolute love for cooking. Sweetheart often joked about it being their love language. He always felt the love and happiness they put into their cooking, it always sweetened the meals they made. The cogs in his brain turning faster, almost overwhelmingly, as he worked out the idea he had created. Taking a deep breath, he quickly got to work, picking up one of the fallen over recipe books with a smile. He hoped this present was enough. 

    Sweetheart, exhausted after work, their long and demanding day finally over. Everything had gone wrong during this day. First, they literally rolled out of bed onto the floor. Milo, working an early morning, hadn’t been their to witness the tumble from the soft sheets. Milo. Sweetheart smiled, the mere thought of him holding them in the morning was temporary relief, (and one of the many thoughts sweetheart visited throughout the rough day for a little joy), from the pain the fall had brought their lower back and tailbone. Then, they burned their breakfast, and their coffee order had gotten messed up. But, running behind on the schedule didn’t give them a chance to have their order fixed. Reluctantly, they rolled into their office with a sore back, empty stomach, and an incorrect coffee order. Already a rough day. What they walked into, however, almost made them turn around and go home right there. Their boss had decided to allow students from the academy to come and shadow some of the employees. Normally, this was no problem with Sweetheart, who loved the students they worked with, having a connection made it easier for them to be taught about the Department. However, with the morning they’d had, they were in no mood to deal with teens who were very clearly excited about Christmas Eve. Oh, did they mention they were called in on Christmas Eve? The day they were supposed to have off? However, the increase hourly pay for the day was too tempting to resist. Secretly, they had been looking to upgrade their apartment, a bigger place for them, Milo and Agro. They smiled, their home. A new, bigger, safe space. A place of love, comfort, and utter tranquility. But, with a bigger place comes a bigger pricetag. The building Sweetheart had been eyeing just had a new opening, and for Milo’s big present, they wanted to give him the keys to the new apartment. However, that meant a hefty safety deposit. Luckily, they were picking up the keys on their way home to him. A smile twitching their lips upward for a fleeting moment. Him. Their love, best friend, and sense of home, all wrapped up in one big, beautiful Shifter. The rest of the day breezed by, the thought of their love waiting at home to celebrate keeping them sane. 

Flinging the door open, Sweetheart collapsed on the comfy green couch in their living room. While the idea of a new apartment (which the keys to were wrapped up in a little box with a bow under the tree) was nice, the living room was the highlight of the current apartment. Soft greens and white coloring the room, plants sitting in the windowsill, all adorned with names. The cactus was Sweetheart’s favorite, cute and prickly all in one. The green furniture was something Sweetheart searched for for months. Finally, a lucky trip to the thrift store, it was like a fairy godmother had just dropped off a full set of green velvet furniture, a couch, a chair and a loveseat. Sweetheart had cried when seeing it, and bought it on the spot. The gentle memory was disturbed by the door blowing open, and a rather sweaty Milo standing in the middle. A variety of bags hanging from his arms, covering the logo of his Shaw Security uniform. Sweetheart often told him how much they adored the uniform, and were currently having those exact thoughts, eyeing how absolutely delectable he was in that uniform. Milo placed the gift bags under the tree, but kept one wrapped present under his arm. They had created the tradition that they exchanged one gift on Christmas Eve, and left the rest for the morning to celebrate with the rest of the pack. Sweetheart leapt up, snatching the small box containing the keys. Smiling, Sweetheart led Milo to the bedroom, where they perched across from each other, eager to present the gifts to their beloved partner. 

“Milo, I’d like to open your present first. Mine requires a little work.” Sweetheart spoke softly, hoping to convince him. 

“Sure thing Sweetheart, anything for you.” Milo grinned a toothy smile, a smug look in his eyes. Handing them the present he worked so hard on. Sweetheart gently worked on removing the green and white paper, little trees patterning the delicate paper. A colorful book sat underneath the paper, words leaping out at them, desperate to be read. Recipes of love; dishes of family, friends and comfort. Sweetheart gasped softly, but not at the words on the front, rather what was written inside. Various recipes from their family, a famous treat recipe here, a spicy dish there. But a certain page drew tears in their eyes. Written on the top of the page, Our first dish together. The words written on the page spoke of the first recipe ever created by Milo and Sweetheart in the apartment they sat in, in the tiny kitchen that barely fit one, let alone both of them together. Cooking that dish had been a pain, but it was worth every single struggle when they sat down and ate their meal together. 

“Oh Milo, it’s perfect. I love it, I absolutely love it!” Sweetheart gasped out, tears streaming down their cheeks. Milo felt himself tearing up, pulling Sweetheart into his lap, holding them as close as he could. Kissing their forehead, he held their face in his hands. “Only the best gift for you, Sweetheart, it’s what you deserve and more.” Milo breathed out his words, trying the restrain the tears that started to drip down his face. The two sat for a few minutes like that, simply basking in the love. Eventually, Sweetheart pulled away and offered the tiny box to Milo.

“This isn’t an engagement ring is it? Sweetheart, I love you, but I thought we agreed to move to a bigger apartment first.” Milo laughed, half hoping it to be a ring, but logic got the better side of him. It isn’t the right time for that. Sweetheart laughed, assuring him no wedding or engagement band laid within the tiny box. Milo untied the bow that held the box together, and removed the glimmering set of two keys. Simple in shape, almost like keys to a front door. Small and silver, they fit in the palm of his hand. They felt oddly belonging, settled perfectly in his hand. He looked up, confused. 

“New house keys? Sweetheart, these don’t go to our locks,” Milo mentioned, pulling out the old keys. Sweetheart smiled. “Come with me.” Tying a blindfold on, they led him out the door and to the car. 

    15 minutes later, (Milo claimed it was 30), they had parked and Sweetheart pulled him out of the car. Walking up the stairs, they finally removed his blindfold. Taking a moment to regain his vision, he stared at the door in bewilderment. Finally, the lightbulb clicked, and he inserted the key into the lock. The heavy click of the lock moving made Milo’s heart stop. The apartment was beautiful. Open floorplan, windows, a bigger kitchen, bedroom and living room, it was perfection. He turned to face Sweetheart, who was grinning ear to ear. 

“Do you like it?” They asked innocently, bouncing on their toes. 

“Sweetheart, I absolutely adore it, but why are we here? Are we thinking about a new apartment?”

“Well, the thinking part is over. I put the deposit down for it about 2 weeks ago. It’s officially ours. But, I told the landlord it was a surprise, so we have a week to decide whether or not we stay in it. If you don’t like it, we can keep look-!”

Milo cut off his beloved’s words with a hug, sweeping them off their feet with a shriek. 

“Yes Sweetheart, I’ll live here with you, its perfect for us. The home of our dreams.” 

When Sweetheart was released, Milo was in full blown tears, sobbing about how perfect it was. Sweetheart, in turn, began to cry as well. The duo stood in their new home, perfect and warm and already full of so much love, and neither could wait to start filling it with more love and creating new memories there. 

[valdomarx]

Anon requested: Person A thinks that a proposal would be a great way to get out of a jam. Person B thinks it is a sincere proposal and accepts. Realizing it wasn't done from a genuine place leads to some upset.

In Jaskier’s defence, it had seemed like a good idea at the time.

“Marry me, Geralt!” he called, jogging over to his witcher, a little out of breath.

Geralt’s face pinched into something cross and Jaskier was sure he was about to be told to fuck entirely off.

“It’s the Belleteyn festival tonight,” he explained quickly. “I might have, erm, sown my seed a little more widely than would be advisable in the town.” Geralt scowled. “And there may have been some, ahem, threats against my person made by the local lord.“ Geralt’s scowl deepened. “But we can smooth it all over if we’re wed tonight. There’s some local custom -- forgiveness of past indiscretions for newly married couples on May Eve.“

Geralt was still glowering but he hadn’t said no yet. Jaskier pulled out his strongest move: He ducked his head, looked up at Geralt from under his lashes, and licked his lips. Geralt’s eyes followed the movement of his tongue almost imperceptibly.

“So marry me? Here. Tonight.”

.

It had been a lovely ceremony, as fake weddings go. There had been music and wine, dancing and merriment, and Geralt even allowed some of the local girls to braid flowers into his hair.

They’d only had enough coin for one ring, a simple silver band, so Jaskier had taken that and he’d given Geralt his father’s signet ring. He’d never have parted with it for anyone else, but it was Geralt. He knew without question he would keep it safe until this ruse was over with.

Perhaps there really was something magical in the air at that time of year, or maybe it was an evening spent at an increasingly raunchy celebration that did it. But after the festivities were over and the townsfolk returned to their homes, Geralt took Jaskier back to their campsite in the woods, laid him down on a bedroll with indescribable tenderness, and fucked him within an inch of his life.

It was everything Jaskier had been quietly fantasising about for years, except more because it was Geralt and even Jaskier’s profoundly vivid imagination couldn’t match the reality of his witcher, every glorious inch of muscle straining and taut, eyes blown wide with lust, taking Jaskier apart and piecing him back together again.

.

The next morning, Jaskier woke slowly, feeling the telling ache of a night well spent. Geralt was already up, packing up camp and loading their bags onto Roach.

“There’s oatmeal in the pot if you want breakfast,” Geralt grunted. “We should get going soon.” He turned back to his work.

Right. Okay. They just... weren’t going to talk about it then. Back to business as usual.

Jaskier shouldn’t have been surprised. Of course Geralt would be as pragmatic about sex as he was about everything else. A way to get some relief, to meet a need. No expectations.

Hell, it had taken Geralt over a decade to admit they were actually friends. Jaskier felt stupid for even hoping for more.

Sleeping together had been a one time deal, it seemed. Too bad.

.

Jaskier realised he was still wearing the ring a few hours later. He should take it off, get rid of it. Maybe sell it at the next town.

He should ask Geralt for his father’s ring back too. But it seemed somehow rude to ask, too needy.

And he... well, he sort of liked catching glimpses of it decorating Geralt’s finger, like a tiny piece of Jaskier was with him wherever he went.

Jaskier found his thumb rubbing over the silver band around his own finger over and over again. It was silly, he knew, but he liked the feel of it. He would keep it for now.

.

After that, things got weird. At lunch, Geralt tried to persuade Jaskier to eat the last of the apples, as if he didn’t know their supply was running low. And at dinner, Geralt hunted and prepared two squirrels for Jaskier instead of the customary one. Jaskier would eat just about anything in a pinch, but charred rodent was not something he felt the need for seconds of.

Everywhere they went, Geralt kept trying to foist food on him. Did he think that Jaskier was weak? That he wasn't able to keep up without extra supplies? Jaskier was, admittedly, not as young as he used to be, but he thought he still measured up pretty well in the fitness department. He didn’t love the implication that he was falling short in some way.

.

At night, Geralt would lay out their bedrolls close together. Close, but never touching. When he laid down, Jaskier could feel Geralt’s breath on the back of his neck, and his chest ached with want.

He waited every night for Geralt to sneak an arm around his waist and pull him close, or to lean forward and whisper an invitation in his ear. Jaskier would be on him in a second.

But he never did, and every night Jaskier berated himself again for being so foolish and tried to push the thoughts from his mind. It was hard being so close and yet so far from what he truly wanted, but he wouldn’t force Geralt into a situation he wasn’t comfortable with.

.

After a week of this Jaskier was truly beginning to lose his mind, and it was a relief when they came upon a small town where they could rest for the night. Jaskier could go out, find some company and distract himself from the hopeless longing settled in his bones, even if only for the night.

When he announced his intention to look around the town, Geralt said he would come along too. That wasn’t ideal for Jaskier’s plan of distraction, but he’d make it work. He always enjoyed Geralt’s company anyway.

There wasn't a lot going on in the town, but there was a pretty barmaid in the tavern, a cheerful red-haired lady with exuberant freckles and strong curves. She flashed a smile at Jaskier the moment they walked in.

Perfect. He smiled back, ordered two drinks, and set to flirting outrageously with her. She giggled and teased back, not seeming intimidated by Geralt‘s presence, even though he was growing notably testier as their interactions became more charged.

When she reached over the bar to twirl a finger through Jaskier’s hair, Geralt actually growled.

She backed off and looked at Geralt. “Didn’t mean any harm,” she said. “I’m just being friendly. Unless...” She looked down at their hands on the bar, apparently noting their rings, and then back to Jaskier. “Unless you’re spoken for. I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“Oh, it’s nothing like that,” Jaskier said with a laugh, just as Geralt said, “Yes, actually, we’re married.”

Jaskier stared at Geralt. Geralt stared at Jaskier. The barmaid held her hands up in the universal gesture for “none of my business, nothing to see here” and backed away to wipe down a table.

Every muscle in Geralt’s neck was tense and throbbing, and Jaskier had no idea what to say.

“Geralt,” he began, carefully. “is this about the other day? The ceremony? Did you... Did you think that was for real?”

Something pained flashed across Geralt’s face, an expression more raw than any Jaskier had seen on him before. Then he stood, turned, and bolted from the tavern.

“Geralt!” Jaskier called, getting to his feet. “Geralt, wait!”

By the time Jaskier was out of the door, Geralt was already disappearing down the dirt road, not turning back.

Ahh, fuck.

.

Jaskier left the girl at the tavern with a hurried apology, pausing only to throw their various possessions into bags and to load up Roach before heading out after Geralt. He knew bugger all about tracking, but he knew the direction Geralt was heading, and after that he relied on Roach’s instincts. She at least seemed confident in what to do.

He caught up to Geralt less than a mile outside of town. He was sat alone in a copse of trees just off the road, staring at the leaves.

He didn’t flee as Jaskier approached, though he didn’t turn to look at him either. “Geralt? I’m sorry. I was thoughtless. Please don’t be mad at me.”

Geralt stood slowly and turned to face him, though he avoided making eye contact. “It was a misunderstanding.” Geralt’s face was carefully blank, a look Jaskier recognised from times he was trying very hard to hide his emotions. “A wrong assumption on my part about the seriousness of the ceremony at Belleteyn.”

“Holy hell, Geralt.” Jaskier’s mind reeled. Geralt thought they had really been getting married, and he had been okay with that? “Does that mean... Would you actually want to be married to me?”

“It was stupid,” Geralt gritted out. Anyone else would have thought he was angry, but Jaskier knew him well enough to see he was hurt. “To think it was anything more than a distraction.”

No no no, that wasn’t right at all. Jaskier tried to take Geralt’s chin in his hand but Geralt turned his face forcefully away.

“Is that why you’ve been acting strange?” Jaskier thought back on it: the gifts of food, the aborted attempts at closeness, the feeling Geralt’s eyes on him constantly, checking his well-being.

“I thought...” Geralt wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I thought you wanted things to be normal. Like they always were.”

“If I were married to you for real, I wouldn’t act like everything was normal!” Jaskier exploded. “Damn it, Geralt. I’d kiss you every morning and hold you every night. And I’d tell everyone we met -- everyone -- that I was the luckiest person on the continent, because this is my husband, the one and only Geralt of Rivia, and he’s the best man I’ve ever met.”

Jaskier shut his mouth. Too late, though. Too late to take any of that back.

Geralt’s brow was pinched, though it didn’t quite look like a frown. It almost made him look thoughtful.

Finally he looked at Jaskier raised an eyebrow. “Every morning?”

Jaskier felt all the fight leaving his body in one grand sweep. Geralt let him push him to his knees on the ground and allowed Jaskier to flop into his lap. Jaskier brushed a strand of hair from his face. “I’ve thought about kissing you every day for years,” Jaskier confessed.

And then he saw it -- one of Geralt’s oh-so-rare smiles. Not the forced grimace he adopted when he needed to look nonthreatening, or the tolerant lip twitch he’d give Jaskier when he was trying to be funny. No, this was a genuine Geralt smile, more precious than gemstones, the kind that lifted his entire face and reached his eyes.

Geralt threaded a hand into the back of his hair, brought their faces closer, and kissed him. At the touch of their lips every part of him went boneless, held up only by Geralt’s arms and a determination to make as much bodily contact as he possibly could.

His head was spinning by the time they pulled apart for air. Geralt’s eyes were sparkling, and Jaskier could have lost himself in that sight for the rest of his life and considered himself a lucky man.

Geralt leaned their foreheads together. “Will you stay with me?” he asked, very quietly. “Even if all I can offer you is charred squirrel and sleeping beneath the stars?”

“Always,” Jaskier promised, without a shadow of a doubt. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be.”

Through the good and the bad, the injuries and the pain, the plenty and the lean times. Through it all, he wanted to be with Geralt.

Jaskier took Geralt’s hand in his and slotted their fingers together. Their rings lay next to each other, the elaborate gold of Jaskier’s crest shining against Geralt’s pale skin and the smooth silver encircling his own finger like an embrace.

It was all startlingly clear. “Marry me, Geralt,” he said, his heart welling over. “For real this time.”

[baekhvuns]

photocard.

synopsis : in which your best friend gives you the biggest gift that’s he’s always kept to himself on the day of christmas. ( collab w/ @hanflix ) ♡

pairing : minho x reader

themes : romcom & fluff.

word count : 3k

christmas eve.

you shuffled around in your bed, a pout decorating your pink-tinted lips as you brought the blanket closer to your face.

your mouth escaped a sigh one too many times now, and the only thought circulating in your mind was that your best friend in the entire world forgot it was christmas, a holiday you’d always without a stop celebrate together.

your mouth flees another sigh, it wasn’t a big deal that he forgot christmas considering he’s on tour in a completely different country while you returned from your work with the sweet wishes from your coworkers.

your best friend, lee minho, no, not the actor, is from the worldwide famous band, stray kids. it was only normal for him to be travelling way too many times during the years due to his schedule, but he always made time for you even on the busiest of days.

you’ve been friends for more than fifteen years, starting from middle school all the time now. the two of you shared everything, from your very firsts to seeing each other be successful.

you were truly happy at the fact that you two were still best of friends despite him being a literal singer who barely has time to take a seat.

and you love him for that, his personality, the whole tsundere facade, sarcasm and constant chaotic behaviour that made you laugh even on your worst days. on top of that his looks, especially his sharp eyes that you loved to gaze into and the way he always looks like a model when he’s doing the most basic chores.

so being lonely in your apartment, well both of your apartment as he’s over most of the times, was normal. but today felt colder than usual, the apartment quiet with the occasional sounds coming from the heater you placed in front of you.

just the mere thought of him sent your heart fluttering especially when you’ve got an unrequited love for him, being friends for fifteen years and one of us not having feelings for each other sounded absurd.

that’s impossible, that’s what you thought at first but then you started seeing minho in a different light. the way you’d look at him changed and the way your thoughts were constantly crowded by him finally made you realize that yes, you are indeed in love with minho.

your eyes gazing the sky outside, courtesy of the apartment window being able to showcase the city up top. the snow had already started to fall, it was a white christmas, you could see the christmas lights hanging and glowing, tall skyscrapers advertising their christmas spirit by showcasing a lights show of red and green with the occasional appearance of santa.

you could very barely hear the christmas bells from the street market below, but the piano music in the background that you specifically chose was louder.

you rolled over to face the window and buried yourself in one of minho’s black hoodies and the blanket, your eyes tired from the work and feeling droopy as if they’ll shut down any minute.

your thoughts wandering to minho who must be on stage performing his heart out, getting the adrenaline from his fans who he cherished the most. you smiled nonetheless, his face flashing in your mind.

minho on the other had just landed home, he wasn’t exactly supposed to be taking the uber back to your place considering one of the concerts was in both your hometown and he’s supposed to be with the members practicing for it.

he bids goodbye to his friends who cheered and whistled loudly at him yelling “good luck! call us if it works out your way!”

throwing them a playful glare he makes his way to the uber, pulling up his mask and adjusting the jacket around him as the cold december night wind lingered through.

he excitedly tells the address to the man driving not before stopping by a local bakery to grab your favourite cake and snacks, he makes sure to get both of his and your favourite colours along with a cartoon candle that reminded him of you.

he smiles at the bag in his hand before sitting back down in the uber before being driven to your apartment complex.

he sprints up to the building with the plastic bag containing food and cake in one hand while the other held his suitcase, while another bag over his shoulders.

he huffs and puffs out harshly as he tugs the mask down, bowing to the apartment building guard respectfully who only laughed and waved, knowing him and the number of times he’s visited before opening the door to the complex building and immediately being swarmed by the heat.

he glances around and a wide smile graces his face, he loves chirstmas, just because it’s your favourite holiday. he loves seeing you getting all giddy about decorating the tree and when he wraps you in wrapping paper while hearing you scream his name.

he’s sure that you did a great job decorating the entire apartment this year too, although a pity he couldn’t join you this year.

he shakes his head and makes his way to the elevator, pressing the top floor button before entering it. he jumps on his feet back and forth slightly, excited yet scared to see you after a while especially when he’s got something extremely important to say.

when the elevator dings, he practically sprints out of the elevator and makes his way to your shared apartment. but pauses before he could make noise, he takes a swift look at his wrist and checks the time.

11:40 pm.

“she’ll be sleeping, only got twenty minutes left,” he whispers to himself, taking the spare key out and slowly and quietly unlocking the door, not wanting you to know he’s here.

he takes his shoes off and pads his socked feet quietly on the wooden floor until stepping on the comfy carpet. he slowly unravels the window blinding and glances at the city being covered in snow, a smile on his face he looks at the clock again and panic comes over him.

he slowly but quickly takes the cake box out and places it neatly on the table, he grabs plates and puts the dishes beside the cake and then finally places the candles on the surface in a matter of seconds before lighting the candles up.

he has the radio set up for the perfect soft christmas music that echoes in the background, smiling to himself he lets out a sigh of relief and stands up, quietly making his way towards your bedroom even though he feels as if he wants to scream and jump on you.

slowly opening the door, he peeks his head in and his eyes settle on your sleeping form. a warm smile tugs on his lips but he pauses before opening the door.

his heartbeat increases and his stomach churns at what he’s about to do, he’s afraid that you’ll be upset and it’ll ruin everything between you two but he opens the door wider and makes his way towards you.

his lips curve up into a smile when he notices that you’re wearing his hoodie, your cheeks squished together with a blush to them as you slept away.

he contemplates for a second to either jump on you and surprise you awake or to scream and wake you up and then surprise you. laughing he chooses to peacefully wake you up, he takes a seat next to you and pats your warmer cheeks with his colder hands.

“(y/n), wake up,” he mumbles softly and you stir in your sleep, he smiles and caresses your cheek softly.

“(y/n) wake up or i’ll leave, ” he says again but this time closer to your face, you groan and reluctantly flutter open your eyes to look at whatever called out to you.

once your irises focus on the setting they immediately widened, a bright smile on your face as you jump in utter surprise. “minho,” you say groggily.

“what the heck are you doing here!” you let out and he pulls you in a warm hug, whining in your hold as you let out a chuckle.

he taps your head softly, “it’s christmas you idiot and you’re here sleeping,” he says, rocking you back and forth in the hug and you smile against him.

“well, if my best friend isn’t beside me,” you pause and push him away, “how will i celebrate it?” and examine his stunning face.

his eyes turn into crescents and he shows off his infamous smile that has butterflies aviating in your stomach.

before he’s about to pull you over his shoulder you stop him, “but min, aren’t you supposed to be with the guys? what about your tour?”

he chuckles and pulls you up, “you forgot the last concert is here, so i came straight to you so we both can celebrate christmas together,” he says, grabbing your hands and pulling you off the bed.

you groan and he chuckles, “now, c’mon it’s almost christmas.”

you follow him into your living room only to stop beside him, he grins widely when he looks at your shocked face and you find yourself tearing up and he panics immediately.

“w-what’s wrong?” he says, cupping your face looking at you in worry, but you only let out a chuckle and punch his shoulder.

“god, you’re going to make me emo today,” you say and walk past him to admire the living room. eyeing the small cake lit on the centre table with your favourite food around it, your stomach grumbles and you take a seat on the floor.

minho who’s been on pause for the past few seconds jolts out and walks over to take a seat beside you.

your eyes gaze over the table and then back to minho who’s weirdly fidgety, you look at him in confusion. “what’s got you so fidgety?” you ask and he shoots his head at you, wide eyes staring into yours.

he clears his throat harshly before dramatically placing his elbow on the table, cradling his face on his palm.

“nothing,” he gulps at your stare, you look at him a second longer before reaching behind him.

he swears he’s about to have a heart attack, it’s not like you’ve never come closer to him. you’ve hugged on multiple occasions and even sat beside each other with no feelings but for the past few years, all of that has changed.

his breath hitched in his throats and he swears to god that he hear his heart thumping in his ears, he then thanks the almighty when you pull away but only curses internally at your killer smile.

you extend your hand to minho, the one holding your present for him, wrapped neatly in a red box with a golden ribbon right in the centrepiece.

he crosses his eyebrows in confusion, “what is this?” he asks before taking it from your hands, you glance behind him to look at the time.

11:54 pm.

“it’s my christmas present to you,” you reply, pointing behind, “it’s almost time anyway’s so i thought i should give it right now.”

you smile when he takes it from your hands while eyeing you, he chucks open the gift and immediately gasps.

“you did not,” he exclaims, pulling out the very thing he wanted from the beginning of the year.

you grinned, “i did,” watching his eyes sparkle brightly that fastened your heartbeat.

he smiles and places the box beside him before clearing his throat and dramatically bringing out a green bag from behind him, he shoves it to your chest and looks away, a blush coating his cheeks.

you coo in excitement and dismantle the bag, going past the number of fluffy papers to finally grasp the rectangular object. your eyes widen at what you’re holding and scream, minho flinching in the process.

“minho you’re insane!” you say, absolutely blown away by the present he’s given you.

“y-you don’t like it?” he stutters out, afraid that you might not like it even after all the consultations from his group members who said, “simple is sexy.” and so he listened.

“are you kidding me? you got me one of your albums and you think i won’t like it?” you joke, patting his shoulder repeatedly at the excitement as you hurriedly discarded the plastic layering.

he watches your face contort into various expressions and feels his heart sped up as you flip through the pages.

you squeal at every photo and point at how ridiculous minho looked, even though he didn’t.

“oh, hyunjin is so hot,” you say and he immediately snaps his head at you.

“what did you say?” he asks, and you stick your tongue out at him playfully.

as you flip the pages and admire every single one of them, you find yourself staring at the ones with minho longer than the rest. when realizing you’ve been staring at it for seconds you quickly flip the pages, getting excited about the photo card you’ll pull.

minho’s internally screaming, knowing you’re one page away from the photo card, he feels himself starting to sweat, heart wrenching and he looks everywhere but you.

it’s not just a plain old photo card, instead, it’s a special one, the one he specifically designed for you after begging one of the staff members to create on extra print of it, and placed it at the side to give it to you at the perfect time.

you flip the next page and squeal at the photo, “hey! look it’s you, what a coincidence!” you say, picking it up to give it a look.

“what a coincidence,” he mumbles under his breath.

you flip the card and took the time to read whatever auto-generated thing he wrote but to your surprise, it’s something completely different from the past ones.

this one however has your heartbeat increasing, you lift your head to look at minho who’s been eyeing you in curiously.

you open your mouth but nothing comes out, instead, you hear your heartbeat thumping loudly. “a-are you serious?” you ask and he swallows, nodding hesitatingly.

“read it out loud,” he says and you shift to look at the card.

“(y/n), for the past few years, i’ve come to completely fall in love with you.” you pause to suck in a breath. “so this christmas, i wanted to ask you if you’d date me?”

you lift your eyes to look at him who’s scared out of his wits, water starts to brim along your waterline when he starts to speak.

“for the past few years, the way i looked at you changed, you’ve never invaded my mind so much till now,” he stops himself as his head slowly bows down.

“i’ve grown to love you differently,” he says and you place a hand on your mouth. “(y/n), you’re probably the first person i liked outside my members,” he chuckles dryly.

“so i wanted you to th-“

you stop him by lifting his head and pressing your lips to his, he lets out a surprised yelp and you cup his cheeks. he closes his eyes and kisses you back softly, smiling against your lips.

when you pull back, “i love you too, you dummy,” you say with a smile, breathing heavily while glancing in his eyes.

“not just as a friend, but more than that.” you smile before closing the distance between you two again, losing yourself in a sweet yet chaste kiss once again.

this time he pulls back with the brightest smile you’ve seen in a while, “i need to tell the guys, they must be waiting for my call.”

you gasp, “you all knew? and only told me now?”

he doesn’t respond but grins widely, fishing out his phone from his pockets to speed dial the rest who were waiting in their living room, settled on the couch waiting impatiently for the one special call.

once the call goes through they quickly answer it and put it on a video call, minho grabs your waist and pulls you down to sit in between his legs.

you smile shyly, the blush hitting your skim different today. your eyes meet the impatient eyes of the seven boys huddling over each other and you hear minho chuckle lowly in your ear.

“they’ve been waiting,” he whispers and you shoot your eyebrows up.

“how long?” you ask, and he finds himself smiling, “ever since debut.”

even before you could reply, the guys on the other side immediately start screaming at the sight of you two, shaking the camera violently while you and minho laugh at their absurdness.

chan, who seems the only normal one at the moment takes the phone with a big smile. “so? what’s the news?” he asks, his dimples showing and eyebrows wiggling.

you feel the blood shoot up to your cheeks when minho places his chin on your shoulder, “it’s a success.” he says and the other line goes insane once again.

one of them singing ‘my house’ teasingly, the other’s yelling and screaming in excitement and you watch them with wide eyes as if they’ve never witnessed a couple.

you turn your face to minho’s, “are they ok-“ before you could even complete your sentence he takes the chance to press his lips on yours and you find yourself melting under his touch, smiling against his lips.

“oh, eww!” you hear the other’s groan in disgust, making you and minho chuckle at their reactions as he pulls you closer to him.

you glance at the snow falling outside and a smile laces on your lips, burying yourself more into your now boyfriends hold you think about the past christmases with him, but this one takes the cake for being the best with the best present, the photo card.

oh, and of course, your best friend turned boyfriend.

[thegirlonpeetamellark]

Christmas Break - Part 1

Surprise!! After a looong time away Court returns to Everlark fic world with a little holiday treat for everyone  - enjoy! :)

Hi everyone. So 2020 has sucked. For me, the beginning of quarantine was actually a bit of a gift. Being home gave me the gift of time, something I haven’t had much of as my daughters (who were very little when I started writing in this fandom) have gotten older. While I never stopped writing, it was a struggle to find long enough chunks of time to get into a flow. I started writing again with earnest. Not all of it was my fanfiction; some of it was my original work. El keeps me posted on the humbling and kind asks she gets about my writing. I felt bad that despite my increased writing, I still wasn’t ready to update any WIPs. But I did remember a story I had started for the final holiday PiP that I was never able to get past the first page (due to lack of time that year) and to my surprise, it started flowing. I had every intention of finishing it and having El post it as a gift to this fandom. But once my school went “back” in October and hybrid learning started, that was it. My time was gone. And further, my family experienced the very sudden and non-Covid-related death of my aunt. So while I have nearly half of this story written, it’s not done. But it will be, very soon, since it is a one-shot. As with all my stories, it took on a life of its own and it needs more love. So what I have for the readers who have loyally followed me is the first part, the part that involves Christmas. It’s my hope to have a second part posted in a week or two, so that by the time that part posts, a final part is nearly done. 

Thank you for your asks and your patience, and thank you to El, one of my favorite people in this world and the best thing my time in this fandom has given me. Thank you for your encouragement. Our friendship means the world to me. 

Here’s to a better 2021. Love to you all. Court

Christmas Break

Fuck, not again, Peeta grouses as the opening notes of that insidious Mariah Carey song pipe through the loudspeaker. That’s the third time in the last two hours. He’s all for holiday spirit, but if he never hears this fucking song again it will be too soon.

Leaning his forehead against the cold pane of glass, he peers out of the fourth-story window into the darkened sky. When he had arrived at work a few hours ago, the snow had just been starting to fall; a slow, lazy tumble of flakes. Now it’s coming down in a tumultuous swirl. It figures Panem would finally see a white Christmas his first Christmas Eve on rotation in the emergency room. No doubt the weather is partially to blame for the crush of bodies crowding the waiting room tonight. 

Peeta walks away from the window and opens the cabinet where he stashes his Clif bars. The economy-sized box looks suspiciously closer to empty than it did the other day. He’s heard complaints from other doctors and nurses that snacks are pilfered on a regular basis and was warned to label his own boxes. But he had forgone the warnings. If someone needed an energy bar badly enough to steal one, what was the $20 he had spent on them at Costco. He snags one and unwraps it. 

He’s just raised it to his mouth when his Apple watch pings and his silenced cell phone pulses insistently against his thigh. Heaving a loud sigh, he sets down the energy bar and withdraws the phone from his pocket. 

“Mom, you’ve got exactly 60 seconds,” he grits out. He doesn’t even need to look at the screen to confirm it’s her. She’s called twice already tonight, calls he’s ignored with good reason, but somehow his mother thinks a phone call from her trumps any actual emergencies her doctor son could be dealing with. Which, tonight, have been nonstop since his shift began at six. 

“Please tell me you ate something,” she begins. 

“I was just about to, when you called,” he replies. “I’ve only got a couple of minutes. It’s been utter chaos for the last four hours.” 

“We missed you at dinner. I can’t remember the last Christmas Eve when I didn’t have all three of my boys together.” Peeta closes his eyes. All these years my mother has been gushing about having a doctor in the family, and yet she never stopped to consider the ramifications of actually having a doctor in the family, he thinks. Particularly its impact on holiday gatherings. She obviously hadn’t learned anything from this past Thanksgiving, as now, just a month later, she’s already dumping a fresh guilt trip on him for missing another family dinner.

She continues, “And Jackson and Maxwell were just devastated when they heard you weren’t coming, until I assured them they’d see you tomorrow. We will see you tomorrow, yes?” 

Peeta suppresses another exasperated sigh and breaks off a chunk of the Clif bar. “Yes, Mom, I’ll be there.” And though it’s childish, he crams the bar into his mouth and mumbles around it, “I wouldn’t miss it for anything.” His chewing masks the sarcasm that weighs down the words. 

“Excellent. We need an updated family portrait before Everly and Rye have to leave for her parents’ house.” Placated, his mother moves to ends the call, but not before getting in a less-than-subtle comment about how much she adores his brother Rye’s fiancée and how happy she is Rye is settling down. 

Staring at the disconnected call flashing on the screen, Peeta tries not to let the remark get to him. Mostly because he knows it’s a lie. His mother has complained more than once about Everly and how she’s not good enough for Rye. Peeta knows the dig was directed at him. He hasn’t truly had a serious girlfriend since junior year of college; just a few casual relationships that barely qualified as relationships. He doesn’t know how his mother expects him to meet someone with the hours he keeps. And his father, for as close as they are, never seems willing to jump to Peeta’s defense. 

Taking a deep breath to let his irritation suffuse, he jams his phone back in his pocket and scarfs down the rest of his pathetic dinner. All three bites of it. Then he uses the restroom, dutifully washes his hand, and stalks out of the staff lounge, his short break over.

As he strides up the corridor, he hears loud shouting coming from the ER waiting room. 

“…should be asleep in her bed, waiting for Santa Claus to come, but instead, we’re still here waiting for someone to take a look at her arm! It’s been over two hours! Don’t you people have any compassion? Or is Ebenezer Freaking Scrooge running this place tonight?”

Curious, Peeta veers towards the reception desk, where his eyes land on the ranting woman. She’s young, probably no older than her mid-twenties, and in spite of the fact that her dark hair is spilling out of a messy braid and she’s not wearing any makeup, Peeta is immediately struck by her beauty. The rosy flush to her cheeks from her tirade actually makes her even prettier. She’s cradling a toddler and protectively shielding the little girl’s right arm. The toddler’s blonde head rests on her mother’s shoulder, her thumb wedged into her tiny pink mouth. Her left arm clutches a stuffed orange cat. She looks tired. Actually, both mother and daughter do. 

“Miss, I understand your frustration, I really do,” the receptionist says calmly, her eyes cutting to Peeta as he stops by her side. He reads the name on the file on top of the stack, the next patient scheduled to be seen: MCMURPHY, JOSEPH. Clearly not the little girl in front of him. 

“I don’t think you do!” the young mother cries, her eyes flashing steel. “She’s three, she’s in pain, and she’s scared. And what’s more, I’ve seen at least five people go ahead of us who came in after us!” 

“That’s not how the emergency room works, miss,” the receptionist replies. She drums her fingertips on the desk, offering the young mother a tight smile. 

“It’s Christmas Eve,” the young mother adds, an edge of desperation creeping into her tone. Discreetly, Peeta moves around the receptionist’s chair, scanning the desktop until he spies the stack of files for the patients awaiting admission. While the receptionist continues to give the young mother the run-around, he thumbs through the stack, searching. His eyes land on what he’s looking for: a date of birth. His lips tip up. Bingo. This has to be it: HAWTHORNE, IVY ANN. 

At the exact second his hand snatches Ivy’s file from the pile and slips the other one in amongst the stack, the young mother’s eyes lock on his. Her gaze narrows. He can see the exhaustion all over her beautiful face. Her full lips twitch, her countenance suspicious as they stare at one another. 

“Ivy Hawthorne?” Peeta taps the file he had extricated. An immediate flicker of relief lights the young mother’s mercury eyes, and that lush mouth breaks into a grateful, relieved smile. The receptionist’s neck snaps up. “I’ve got this,” he adds, his tone leaving no room for her to argue with him. It’s not protocol for Peeta to take a patient directly, but it’s also not blatantly against the rules. Sure, it might mean a little more work for him, but if it means he can get this little girl home sooner on Christmas Eve, it’s worth it.

He smiles at the little girl. “Ivy, I’m Doctor Mellark. I’m going to help make you feel better, okay?” She nods once but doesn’t lift her head from her mother’s shoulder. Peeta’s arm sweeps to the side, ushering the young mother and Ivy past the desk. He scans the hallway and spies a partially drawn curtain halfway up the corridor. He leads them to the available partition and close the curtain behind them. As he turns to face them, he nearly slams into the woman. She hasn’t moved, and her luminous grey eyes fasten to his. She looks as if she’s going to say something, but several seconds pass and she’s still quiet, still watching him. The silence starts to become uncomfortable. Peeta clears his throat.  

“If you’d have a seat, please, Mrs. Hawthorne. You can hold her while I get some more information from you.” 

The young woman’s lips part slightly, again appearing as if she wants to say something, but instead she shuffles forward and Peeta waits while she settles on the edge of the hospital bed, gingerly adjusting Ivy so she’s sitting sideways across her mother’s lap. 

Peeta sinks down onto the stool and scoots towards the edge of the bed. This close he has a much better look at Ivy’s mother. She really is a beautiful young woman, and given how adorable Ivy is Peeta assumes her husband is probably also very attractive. He feels a twinge of jealousy. Lucky bastard. Pretty wife, cute kid…probably has a nice little house and a golden retriever too. Living the dream. His dream, if he allows himself to admit it to anyone but his mother. If he was being perfectly honest, he had always envisioned himself married by now. 

“How old are you, Ivy?” he ask, even though he knows from her chart and her mother’s declaration that she’s three years old. She hesitates, and still clutching the stuffed cat, manages to display three fingers. Peeta smiles at her again.

“I have a nephew who is the exact same age as you are. He told me just last week that he’s a big boy now. Are you a big girl, Ivy?” He keeps his tone gentle, hoping it will put her at ease with him. She nods, her big blue eyes lightening imperceptibly. “I thought so. Can you be a big girl and tell me what happened to your arm?” 

Her mother answers automatically, “She fell. I was only gone—” Peeta holds up his palm. He has the triage nurse’s initial assessment, so he knows Ivy’s arm is likely broken. What he doesn’t know is how the arm got broken. And those details he needs to try to get from Ivy herself. Kids her age always tell the truth when it comes to how they were injured, and unfortunately it’s part of Peeta’s job to make sure there isn’t a more sinister reason she’s in the E.R. tonight, no matter how sweet and innocent her mother appears. He’s already had a few encounters with suspected child abuse, though his gut tells him that isn’t the case with Ivy Hawthorne.

“Please. I would like Ivy to tell me how it happened.” 

Something dangerous flints in Ivy’s mother’s now stormy grey eyes.

“She. Fell.” The words are curt, enunciated coolly, but her voice is soft and Peeta can tell she’s keeping her temper in check for the benefit of her daughter. Eyes still pinned to his, she inhales deeply. A second later, her shoulders relax. “Go ahead and tell the nice doctor how you hurt your arm,” she whispers, stroking Ivy’s curls. 

“I was trying to see Santa,” Ivy replies, her tongue tripping in a lisp on the “S’s.” 

“What do you mean by that?” he prompts her. 

Ivy scrunches up her button nose. “I was trying to see up the chimney. ‘Cause the chimney at Aunt Katniss’s house is so skinny and Santa Claus is real fat and I don’t know how he’s gonna fit down it to bring me my presents!” Her blue eyes brim with tears and her lower lip starts to tremble. Peeta reaches over and pats her knee. 

“I wouldn’t worry about that, sweetheart. Santa Claus is magic. He’ll get you your presents, no matter what the chimney looks like.” He exchanges a look with her mother. 

“It was all my fault,” she says quietly. “I went in the kitchen, to get the cookies and milk—”

“And the carrots! For Rudolph and the other reindeer!” Ivy chimes in, her eyes shiny wet. 

“I never should have left her alone, not even for a second. This is my fault. It’s my fault. She wouldn’t have slipped and fallen off the hearth if I had been watching her.” Guilt chokes her words, and it sounds as if she’s close to tears. 

“Accidents happen, Mrs. Hawthorne,” Peeta says empathetically, “that’s why there are emergency rooms.” She presses her lips together, her brows knitting.  

“It’s Everdeen,” she says quietly. Peeta drops his eyes to Ivy’s chart, and furrows his brows, his gaze wandering to the young woman’s left hand. No ring. A brief thrill curls through him at the thought that she’s single. Asshole, he immediately chides himself. So not what you should be thinking about right now. He scans the chart more carefully and shakes his head.

“I’m sorry,” he begins, “but this lists Primrose Hawthorne as the mother, under the Parent/Guardian information, and a Rory Hawthorne as the father. I just assumed—”

She cuts him off. “Primrose Hawthorne was her mother. But I’m not Primrose Hawthorne. I’m Katniss. Katniss Everdeen. I’m her aunt. I should be listed as her primary emergency contact.” She swallows and squeezes her eyes shut briefly. When she opens them, they plead with his. Peeta glances down at Ivy, and then raises his eyes to Katniss again. The guilt that was clouding those silver irises a moment ago has dissipated, replaced with anguish. He doesn’t know what the full story is here, but he didn’t miss Katniss’s usage of the past tense in referring to Ivy’s mother. So he honors her silent appeal not to ask questions.

“Okay, Ivy, you fell, and you landed on your arm? I bet that hurt,” Peeta says to the little girl, but his gaze stays fastens on Katniss. She gives him the faintest smile and mouths, “Thank you.”

~*~*~*~

An hour later, the orthopedist informs Peeta that Ivy Hawthorne is ready for his approval to be discharged. Not wanting to keep her and her aunt waiting any later than necessary, he sets down the X-ray he had been studying, and heads back to where Ivy is. 

Standing outside the curtain, he hears quiet singing. He draws back the curtain and sees Katniss seated on the bed, with Ivy nestled in her lap. A bright pink cast safely cocoons the girl’s arm. Her blonde head rests on Katniss’s shoulder. Her eyes are closed, and her little body rises and falls with the deep breathing of sleep. 

Katniss continues to sing, unaware of Peeta’s presence. He doesn’t recognize the tune she’s singing. It’s not a Christmas carol, at least not one he’s ever heard before, but he continues to listen, captivated by her voice. It’s soft and decidedly feminine, but there’s raspy undercurrent to it that gives him chills. It’s like the first sip of a rich, smoky bourbon.

Gingerly, he tiptoes towards the bed and stands before her for several more minutes, until Katniss finally lifts her eyes. She immediately stops singing. Peeta smiles and nods towards Ivy.

“Someone is worn out,” he whispers. Katniss’s lips twitch into a chagrinned smile. 

“I’m sure the second we get home she’ll be wide awake and it’ll take forever to get her into bed. She was already amped up about Santa Claus before this.” She tips her head and gestures with her chin towards Ivy’s arm. 

“Warm milk. With a little bit of cinnamon,” he suggests. 

“Really?” Her eyes round. “Cinnamon? That really works?” Disbelief clouds her words. He shrugs sheepishly.

“I have no idea. No kids. And I’ve never had much trouble sleeping. I’m usually asleep the minute my head hits the pillow. But I’ve heard from a friend with a toddler that it does the trick.” He waits for her to say something—anything—in response, but she doesn’t. Her gaze is back on the sleeping toddler in her arms. 

Watching her stare tenderly at her niece causes something unexpected to claw at Peeta’s chest and he’s overwhelmed by a fierce compulsion to want to keep her here, to get to know more about her. It’s been a long time since he felt this kind of instant attraction to a woman. Why couldn’t he have met her under different circumstances? 

“Are we all done, doctor?” 

Peeta startles from his thoughts and offers Katniss an apologetic smile.

“Yes, sorry. You are good to go as soon as you sign here—” He holds the clipboard at an angle, to allow her to sign without having to disturb Ivy, “and here.” He flips the sheet back to the second page and she scrawls her name across the line there, too. Normally a nurse would go over discharge papers and protocol with patients, but Peeta had taken it upon himself to grab Ivy’s. He needed to spend every possible minute in Katniss’s presence. 

Once the release forms are complete, he review the plan for Ivy’s follow-up care, including how to manage any pain she has and when she’ll need to return to have the cast removed. Katniss listens attentively. 

When he’s finished, she stands up slowly, her movements tentative so as not to jostle Ivy. A sigh parts the little girl’s lips and she stirs, but she remains asleep. God, she’s cute, Peeta thinks. 

“Thank you, Dr. Mellark,” Katniss says softly. “For everything. I know what you did…” She falters. “I mean, I know we, ah, weren’t next, and ah…” Peeta waves a hand dismissively, sensing her discomfort with his hijacking of the queued patients.  

“It was my pleasure,” he replies. “Little girls should be home on Christmas Eve. Waiting for Santa.” He echoes Katniss’s earlier words. “I hope he’s good to her.” 

He doesn’t miss the forlorn expression that flits across Katniss’s face as she glances down at her sleeping niece. 

“He can’t bring her what she wants most, but he’ll try,” she murmurs and moves towards the open curtain. Just before she steps out into the hall, she pauses and turns to face Peeta.

“Merry Christmas,” she adds.  

“Merry Christmas,” he concurs. With a faint smile, she steps around the curtain. It rustles in her wake and resettles. Peeta exhales and slumps against the wall, regret washing through him, followed by a stronger wave of sadness at seeing Katniss go. If it hadn’t been for Ivy, he might have concocted some kind of delay to keep Katniss here longer, found some excuse to pry more information out of her. Like if she’s single. A surge of adrenaline spikes in his blood. He can’t let her go this easily.

He bolts out into the corridor, scanning the bustling hallway for any sign of Katniss and Ivy, but they’ve vanished. Disappointed, his shoulders slump as he trudges towards the nurses’ station to hand off Ivy’s file. 

It’s probably best, a nagging little voice inside him taunts, and he reluctantly concedes that it probably is. As much as he’d love to finally shut his mother up and find a woman that he’d want to spend more than a night with, it’s not fair to subject one to the kind of schedule he has to keep. New doctors are low-man-on-the-totem-pole. He’s had mostly graveyard shifts and he’s often on call. It’s his dream to have a pediatric practice, but he’s well aware that he’ll have to toil for a couple of years to get on track to make that dream a reality. 

A few minutes later, en route to his next examination, Peeta spies Johanna, one of the triage nurses, coming out of the room Ivy had occupied. His eyes immediately narrow when his gaze lands on her left arm.

“Was that in there?” He motions towards the vacated room and then nods towards the stuffed cat Johanna has wedged under her armpit. 

“What, the cat? Yeah. It must have fallen under the bed. I’ll take it to the station, in case someone comes back to claim it.” 

Ivy’s cherubic little face flashes in Peeta’s mind. He remember how fiercely she had been clutching that cat, and how she had reluctantly agreed to put it down when it had been time for Delly, another one of the triage nurses, to take her for X-rays. 

Peeta’s pulse quickens and he immediately thrusts his hand towards Johanna. “I’ll take it,” he says impulsively. She wrinkles her nose and cocks her head, her hazel eyes intensely scrutinizing him. Though they have a casual friendship, Johanna is far too insightful for her own good. Peeta doesn’t really need her questioning his motives for taking possession of the toy. 

“The little girl it belongs to goes to preschool with Max. I’ll make sure he takes it to her after the holiday break.” Fuck, that lie flew off his tongue so easily he almost believes it himself. Johanna shrugs and tosses Peeta the cat. 

“Suit yourself. One less thing to overflow the Lost and Found.” She strides past him and disappears into Triage 6. He stares down at the stuffed animal. His heart skips another beat and a slow smile tugs at his mouth. 

~*~*~*~

Stifling another yawn, Peeta squints at the numbers above the garage. He’s definitely in the right place. He kills the engine and sits for a moment, glancing at the clock on the navigation system. It’s quarter after nine. Early, but not obscenely so. When his shift had ended at six am, he had driven home and fought the urge to crawl into bed; instead, he grabbed a quick shower and freshened up. True, part of him hadn’t wanted to see Katniss Everdeen again looking like the bedraggled, exhausted mess he was at the end of a rotation, and also true, he was going to have to clean up before he’s due at his parents’ house at one. But he also knew he couldn’t really have shown up at Katniss’s house at the crack of dawn on Christmas morning, even if he suspects Ivy likely had her up by then. He recalls, with a wistful smile, that Christmas morning was the one morning he and his brothers were always awake before his father. It was only a question of which Mellark brother was going to be the first to rouse the others. Him being the youngest, it was usually him, he admits with a wider grin.

He quietly exits his car, careful not to slam the door, and gingerly steps across the icy driveway. He pauses at the un-shoveled front walk, where a pristine blanket of snow blocks his path. “Shit,” he whispers, gritting his teeth as he takes the first step. His foot plunges into the deep drift, up to nearly his calf. He braces himself and takes a huge step, hoping to eat up the distance in a few long strides. Fortunately, it’s not a long front walk. He reaches the also un-shoveled front steps and carefully ascends them. He contemplates ringing the doorbell, but instead raps his knuckles against the door. His breath pipes out in white plumes and he rubs his palms together for warmth as he waits. 

No one comes to the door, at least not immediately. Peeta lifts his fist again, but just before his knuckles can connect with the wood again, the front door opens a crack and he’s suddenly looking at Katniss. Those silver eyes round almost comically as recognition lights them. 

“D-Doctor Mellark? Wh-what are you….”  

“Hi. Merry Christmas,” he begins. “I thought Ivy would be missing this.” He smiles and holds up the stuffed cat. 

Katniss stares at him, her lips parting faintly, and shock and confusion war on her pretty face. But then her grey eyes darken with what Peeta can only describe as restrained fury. 

She opens the door fully and glares at him.  

“You had Ivy’s cat?” she accuses. 

“Uh…yeah…” he stammers, his own confusion welling. Why is she so angry? “My nephew…he has a bear. Otis. Can’t sleep without that thing. I thought if Ivy is anything like Max…well, she’d be missing this.” He holds the cat out to Katniss. She snatches it so violently that she stumbles backwards. Peeta is equally jarred, but his jolt is from the very brief brush of Katniss’s fingers against his when she had grabbed the toy. 

But Katniss gives him no time to revel in the feeling.

“So this is why no one at the hospital had a goddamned clue what I was talking about when I called there looking for this cat an hour ago!” she spits. 

Shit, Peeta thinks, an uneasy feeling clawing its way into his gut. 

“Why the fuck—” He can’t help but notice her slight hesitation before she lobs the obscenity at him. “—would you take my niece’s cat? Is this something normal people do?” She’s shivering visibly as she rants, a clear consequence of stepping onto her front porch wearing nothing but green plaid pajama pants and a threadbare black Henley shirt.

“I….I…” He shakes his head. He’s not even sure how to defend his actions. He can’t very well tell her his ulterior motives in bringing the stuffed cat back to her niece. Not now. He definitely fucked this up.

“I was just trying to be nice. That I’d save you a trip on Christmas morning,” he finishes lamely. 

Katniss’s nostrils flare and her jaw flexes. “Christmas morning,” she mutters, just barely audible over the clattering of her teeth. “Did it occur to you, Dr. Mellark, that I might be looking for Ivy’s cat and I might call the hospital looking for this cat?” She shakes the toy in his face. “And did it occur to you that, in spite of all the toys she had just opened, Ivy might be bawling and throwing a fit because Buttercup was missing?”

Buttercup, he has to assume, is the stuffed cat.

She pauses, as if waiting for him to defend himself, but all he can do is swallow against the lump crowding his throat.

So she continues, “They made me think I was crazy—but not until after they left me on hold for 20 minutes while I tried to calm a wailing toddler. And then they said there was no toy matching this description in the Lost and Found. And that’s because you had it!” Her eyes are a maelstrom now, but he notices that an edge of frustration has crept into her furious tone. 

“And now Ivy doesn’t have it. So thank you. Thank you very much, Dr. Mellark. Merry Christmas.” And before Peeta can release the breath he’s been holding during her outburst and plead his case, she whirls around, her disheveled braid lancing through the air like a whip, and slams the door behind her. Stunned, Peeta can only stare at the wreath on the door as he processes what just happened.  

What. The. Fuck. 

Heart pounding, gut churning, Peeta retreats to his car. He takes a few minutes to absorb the shock of his encounter with Katniss, his mind reeling through the accusations she made. He never would have expected her to react like this. So much for any shot with Katniss Everdeen. 

He finally gathers his composure and navigates out of her complex. As he drives, his mind continues replaying Katniss’s words over and over, and he finds one thing nags at him. 

And now Ivy doesn’t have it.

Those words don’t make much sense to him. He just gave the stuffed animal back to Katniss. She can give it back to Ivy. She’ll have it now. In her wrath, Katniss just wasn’t being rational, he decides. 

But her words continue to haunt him off and on for the rest of the day. Along with persistent images of Katniss that further torment him. She is never far from his conscious thoughts. As he sits down next to the fireplace in his parents’ house with a tumbler of scotch to exchange gifts with his brothers and his nephews, he finds himself wondering who Katniss is celebrating with. Ivy, obviously. But does she have other family? 

By the time the Mellarks all settle around the table for dinner, he’s conjured up the notion that Katniss may not be married, but she surely has a devoted boyfriend who is showering her with gifts at this very moment. Her mood is infinitely better than what Peeta witnessed earlier. She’s probably dressed nice for him, and he’s sitting around her dining room table with Katniss and Ivy, like a makeshift family.

His mother’s irritation is palpable when she has to command his attention twice to try and draw him into the discussion centered on Rye’s upcoming wedding. Peeta murmurs the apology he knows she expects and feigns his dutiful brotherly interest for Rye’s benefit the remainder of the meal. But a dull ache has taken up residence in the center of his chest and he realizes just how badly he wants what his brothers have. 

He just won’t be having it with Katniss Everdeen.

[randomrosewrites]

An eternity more

AO3

A special Alastor x reader fic just in time for Halloween!

Word count: 2000

Warnings: Mild language

Summary: Alastor and his partner celebrate Halloween. 

In Hell, there was one day a year in which the usual brutality and gore that occurred was not only just commonplace, but treated as a festivity. 

Halloween. Sometimes referred to as Hallow’s eve, or Samhain. 

Every circle always had some type of event going on. Violence had fighting matches all throughout the day. Gluttony had haunted house walks and tours in their suicide forests. Even unpopular circles like Limbo got into the Halloween spirit by having small carvals pop up here and there. 

For the denizens of Hell, Halloween was a day where every sicko, nutjob, and crazy could find something that tickled their fancy. 

On a night of such horrors, many people expected that of the Radio Demon to be doing something horribly violent; Engaged in some form of terrorism or inspiring fear into the masses via one of his broadcast. 

Instead, though-

“Darling! Look over here, they’ve got handmade masks!” Alastor says to you, excitedly dragging you along the streets of Pentagram city. 

-he’s quite the opposite 

While Alastor was more than happy to spend his nights prowling the streets and seeing the fear ignite in people’s eyes, he enjoyed other things besides that. He wasn’t entirely diabolical. Why go around causing chaos like some petty ruffian when there were other superior activities to engage in?  

Tonight, as you walk the streets alongside him, the city is busier than ever. The night sky is stained a dark garnet and the cold air makes you snuggle closer into your coat. Pedestrians pack together in the streets, a huge mass of limbs and bodies. 

Vendors and shops have their doors wide open, showing off their merchandise or advertising for one thing or another. There’s food stalls, costume shops, drug vending machines, antique stores, and the like. Alastor zig zags from stall to stall, checking out every and anything that catches his eye. 

His own usual outfit is changed for the event, instead of the normal red he’s changed into a dark burgundy, so dark it almost looks brown. One of his red-gloved hands holds yours, dragging you along with him. You have to nearly run to keep up with his long strides. 

He comes to a stop, the action so sudden you bump into him.

“Ow - why’d you stop-”

You look at the building you’ve stopped in front of. A bright neon sign reads ‘The House of Haunted Horrors’

A bloody haunted house. 

Alastor looks at you, excitement shining in his eyes. “Shall we go in?” 

“Al, you know I get scared easily-”

“Great!” he says before you can finish, dragging you through along with him into the entrance. 

“No, wait! - Oh my god no Alastor, Alastor!” you protest to no avail. 

After a brief talk with the receptionist, (who’s eyes nearly bulged out of their skull when they saw him) you’re ushered into another room where the attraction begins. 

The employee tells you the backstory for the situation. You’re a scientist trapped in an underground laboratory where demons were experimented on. After a sudden outbreak has cut off all power and communication, you’ve got to find the exit before the creatures in the dark can get to you first. 

You’re utterly horrified. Alastor’s delighted.  

She hands you each a flashlight and wishes you good luck before closing the door and leaving you to begin. 

“Well, let’s get going, shall we?” Alastor takes your hand (Which you cling onto tightly), flicking on his flashlight and starting down the hallway. 

The hallway is dark and grimy. The flashlight can’t shine very far so you can only see whats a few feet ahead of you at a time. Your footsteps echo through the eerily quiet corridor. The only sound is of your tense breathing and your heartbeat in your ears.  

“I hate this, I hate this-” you groan, latching yourself onto Alastor’s side and burying your face in his coat. 

“Don’t worry darling, it’ll be fun!” he reassures you, patting you on the back. It’s at that moment that a hollow groan rings through the hallway, making your entire body tense. 

“Oh fuck - I hate this, I hate this-” you hiss.

“What about this do you hate?” Alastor asks, keeping one arm around you and one on the flashlight. “The dark? The feeling of not knowing what lies ahead? The weight of-”

“Al,” you snap. “Not. Helping.” 

You can hear the smile in his voice. “Apologies. I couldn’t help myself. Fear is a wonderful emotion on you, dear.”

Though for as much as he teases you, you can by the way he keeps a firm grip on you and the whispered assurances he utters periodically that he does care about you. You also know he wouldn’t hesitate to get you out of there if you truly were terrified. 

The two of you explore different hallways and rooms, slowly making your way through the attraction. You pass by corpses (that you hope are just fake) covered in blood, scratch marks on the walls ripping up the wallpaper, dismembered limbs, empty cages and cells, and other grotesque, creepy sights.

In one room, you open the door to see a stuffed bear sitting on a chair in the far corner. When you enter and explore the room, you look back to find that the beat has moved towards you.

Yeah, no. 

“Fuck this, fuck this, fuck this-” You run out of there as fast as possible, slamming the door behind you. Alastor laughs at your reaction, jogging to catch up to you. 

You continue further into the attraction. Occasionally a gust of wind or a nearby whisper will make you whip around and press closer to Alastor, heart hammering in your chest, but you’ve seen no actors yet. Are there any? Or have they all been scared into immobilization? 

You’ve just about let your guard down when you open the door to the next room and are met with a looming, black figure standing in the corridor. 

They’re tall, much taller than you, with long black limbs and two glowing eyes. You’re so surprised at the creature’s sudden appearance that you don’t even think to scream. From the mass of black, a cavern opens up - its mouth - emitting a hisss sound. When the figure reaches out towards you, your mind goes blank with terror. 

Behind you, you can feel Alastor’s form shift. 

One note about Alasotr’s demon form - you’d seen it hundreds of times before. You’d seen his pupils go black, seen him stretch until he was a tall, lanky stick figure with teeth that took up half of his face more times than you can count. 

A lot of things might scare you, but Alastor doesn’t. 

But it definitely scares the worker. He drops his act, taking off into the darkness like his life depended on it. 

When you look at Alastor again, he’s returned to normal. He has the same smile on his face, but he seems slightly disappointed. 

“How pitiable.” he murmurs, before saying to you in a much lighter tone. “Shall we continue?”

There’s little else to the haunted house. A few more creepy sounds and flashes of moving figures from the corner of your eyes, but nothing else quite like the cryptid in the doorway. 

When you finally do exit into the noisy streets of the city, you breathe and sigh of relief. 

“That was quite charming, yes it was!” Alastor chirps. “It could have been more frightening but all-in-all, it was quite entertaining. Don’t you think so too, dear?”

You clutch his suit under your bloodless knuckles. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

Alastor gives a  hearty laugh, giving you a reassuring rub of his arm. “You did very well.” 

As you leave, you spot some of the employees from the haunted house. Their costumes are half-off and they’re hugging the wall of the building, warily regarding the Radio Demon, looking utterly terrified - even more scared than you ever were. 

And for a second, you agree with Alastor - fear is a wonderful emotion. 

---

By the time you return home to your quiet home outside of the city, it’s almost midnight. Alastor makes the two of you supper and you eat it by the fireplace, the bright flames casting off every shadow in the room. 

“Did you enjoy yourself today, darling?” He asks after a few minutes into the conversation. He’s changed into a casual sweater and vest. It isn’t anything groundbreaking, but the outfit is so fitting and looks so good on him that you can’t help but stare. 

“I did,” you say, then with a bit of salt- “Even though you forced me to go into that haunted house.” 

“Yes, but it was fun, was it not?”

“Surprisingly, yes,” you admit. “But that’s probably because you were there with me.”

“Wonderful! I felt as though the actors could have been more adequate. Back in my day, even the worst of performers could do a better job than those buffoons.” 

You take a bite of your food, hiding a smile. “I think you’re the reason they were so scared, Al. After you shifted into your true demon form and scared them, no one else dared to try and piss you off.”

“But I wasn’t trying to frighten them off entirely!” he whines. “What kind of a person goes around scaring people for their occupation but can’t handle a little intimidation?” 

“People are scared of you, love.”

His nose wrinkles. “That I am more than aware of,” his expression softens. “But you aren’t.”

“No,” you reach across the table to squeeze his hand. “I’m not.” 

The conversations steers elsewhere and the two of you finish dinner. After the dishes are done, you coax Alastor into joining you on the couch. You lay on top of him, pressing your ear to his chest. Your fingers rub against the soft cotton of Alastor’s sweater, drawing patterns on the material. 

“Do you like my clothes?” He asks. Not accusatory or demanding, simply curious. 

“Yes,” you slide your fingers up to play with the collar of his shirt. “Very much so.” 

“Then by all means, play to your heart's content.” His hands go to your waist, sliding his thumb underneath your shirt to rub at your hip. 

You hiss. “Your fingers are cold.”

“Apologies,” he murmurs, nuzzling his nose into your hair. “I can’t help it.”

He always ran a cooler temperature, no matter what. He was like a cold-blooded lizard, always leaching off of your warmth whenever he could. His favourite thing to do was to slip his cold hands along your neck when you weren’t expecting it, just to hear the noise that would come out of you. 

Your hand trails up, along his neck, over his jaw, and rubbing against his lip. He carefully nibbles on one of your fingertips, staring at you intensely. His teeth clamp down not hard enough to break the skin, but hard enough so that you feel the pressure from them. 

“Beautiful…” you breathe. His hand slides up your back, running along your spine. 

Your free hand travels further upwards, nesting in his hair. The tips of your fingers stroke against the firm cartilage of his ear and he inhales sharply, ears folding to his skull. 

You hesitate. The ears slowly rise again.

“Do you want me to stop?” You ask.

“No…” he whispers, releasing your finger from his mouth.“You can keep going. Just unused to it…”

Carefully, gently, you rub his ears. They’re quite soft, but also quite delicate so you’re careful not to overwhelm him. A hum emerges from Alastor’s throat, vibrating through your body. He’s tense at first, taught like a bow string, but over time he relaxes, melting into the couch. 

His hands seek out the small crevices in your body as well, your sides, your shoulders, your neck. A few times he has to seek the solace of your neck, whining and nipping kisses underneath your ear.  

Touching each other, exploring the way you each react to touches, giving soft affections - It doesn’t go farther past that, but none of you are seeking anything else from it. Every touch is for no greater reason other than it simply feels good. 

You let the time pass. It’s impossible to tell how long exactly, but it’s a while before you’re both satisfied. You wrap your arms around his torso and press your face into his shirt. He smells like rich wood and strong spices. Most of all, he smells fresh. There’s simply no other way to describe it.

“I wish we could stay like this every night,” you sigh, “Tonight...and the next night..”

Alastor kisses the top of your head.  “And then the next night...and the next...and the one after that, too…”

You lift your head to kiss him on the lips. “And for an eternity more.” His eyes flutter wide open, blinking just like a dazed dear. You want to giggle with how cute it is.

His expression melts into one of pure bliss, red eyes hazily gazing into yours. He chuckles, kissing the tip of your nose.  “And for an eternity more.” 

[lupinlongbottom]

Practically a Weasley pt. 2

Charlie Weasley x Reader

Summary: Home for the holidays! Finally, after the end of a bitter war, the Weasleys have some much needed family time to catch up on. The holidays are the perfect time to celebrate family, no? Charlie and (Y/N) seem to agree. 

Word Count: 3.8k+

Warnings: None

A/N: A much anticipated part 2 to my Practically a Weasley fic! I love writing for Charlie. Dragon boy just doesn’t get much love, does he? Also Fred ain’t dead. My heart couldn’t handle that if it were true. 

Part 1 ... Part 1.5  ... Part 3 ... Epilogue

__

The Burrow was fluttering with delight, the holidays had been finally sworn in with the arrival of the entire Weasley clan. How long had it been since most of the redheaded family sat under one roof, let alone one table? With everyone’s various lines of work and hectic schedules, it was a surprise and a holiday miracle even half of them had shown up.

Bill was enchanting the younger children with vast stories of his work as a curse-breaker (with a little exaggeration, of course). Molly and Arthur were bickering about him bringing yet another Muggle artifact home for the holidays. And Charlie? He sat quietly at the end of the table, humming along to Celestina Warbeck’s newest album, gingerly holding (Y/N)’s hand with delight.

Nothing had changed, not really, not ever.

“How do you know all of the words already? She just released these songs like, two days ago?” (Y/N) chuckled, taking a small sip of the hot beverage in front of her.

“I have a perfect memory,” Charlie mused, rubbing his thumb in circles on the back of her hand. “Or, did you forget?”

“I suppose I did, Mr. Weasley.” (Y/N) grinned, eyes flitting across the various freckles under his brown eyes.

“Such a shame, you really ought to know better, Mrs. Weasley.” A soft peck danced across their lips.

Ah. So something had changed.

“Ew.” Fred spat, eyeing his older brother down from across the table.

“Double ew,” George retorted. “Get a room.”

“They’re married, you gits,” said Ginny, bumping Fred in the arm. “Let them be.”

“She’s my best friend!” groaned Fred.

“Wow,” muttered George, a hand rising to his chest. “After all we’ve been through, Freddie? I’m gutted.”

(Y/N) chuckled quietly at the twins, now not-so-playfully fighting each other across the table. “They’ll never grow up, will they?” Whilst the twins began their fight to the death via dull forks, the newlywed couple pulled away from one another for the first time in hours.

“No, I reckon not,” Charlie hummed, rising from his seat. “If they’re going to continue on like this, I might as well pour myself a glass of firewhisky. Did you want one, love?”

Silently, (Y/N) shook her head, allowing Charlie to flee the scene for a few moments. The album had finally reached the end of the track, resulting in Molly starting it right back up. Ron and Ginny groaned gaudily, as this had been the fifth time she had done so this evening. The two shut right up after Bill had sent them both a quick and sharp glance.

“I must say,” Molly began. “I never imagined the lot of us sitting around one table again,” The war had reached its climatic end only a few months prior, wounds starting to finally heal. “I’m truly blessed to have almost my entire family together for the holidays—”

“—minus Perce, Fleur and Harry, of course!” George piped up.

“Right,” Molly cleared her throat. “As I said, almost the entire family.”

“Fleur sends her regards, truly. But with the condition her mother is in right now, she needed to be home,” Bill responded, again apologizing for his wife’s lack of attendance. “And Percy and Harry will be joining us in the coming days, no?”

“Yeah,” Ron nodded, leaving the absence of his brother and best friend at that. “Harry’s got some errands to run, or whatever. I reckon he’s out buying gifts even when we asked him not to.” Ron chuckled.

“Well, regardless of who isn’t here, we still have a large family. A growing family at that!” Arthur rejoiced, causing (Y/N)’s face to drop slightly. “It’s (Y/N)’s first holidays as an official Weasley!”

(Y/N) felt her face flush. A sigh of relief. “Oh Arthur, that’s hardly anything to celebrate…”

“Hogwash,” Charlie retorted, returning with his promised firewhisky, and a glass of water for (Y/N). “You can’t escape now, you’re sorta in it for life, yeah?”

“I feel like it’s already been a lifetime, love.” She chuckled. “Besides, just because we signed some stupid paper and wear these rings—”

“—wonderfully selected by your adoring husband.” Charlie mused, wriggling his left hand. The cool silver shone off his hand, a matching band with (Y/N)’s delicate ring.  

“You know what I mean, Charles.” snickered (Y/N). “I mean, I’ve practically been a Weasley since second year!”

“It’s true,” George paused, setting his fork down. “I mean, we would’ve married her first but—”

“—we were too busy being repulsed by the thought!” Fred finished, poking his tongue out slightly.

(Y/N) returned the gesture.

“You lot will never grow up,” said Molly, shaking her head. “Whatever the case, I’m truly blessed to have another daughter.” 

“Mum, just remember to think about the daughter you’ve always had, yeah?” Ginny laughed, causing the entire table to join in.

__

Hours passed, with it, a final read through of (Y/N)’s latest project. The sequel to The Distracted Dragon. While she had intended to finish the novel earlier, something larger than herself had erupted in their little world that needed attending to. The various fans of the first story were surely gutted, but to be completely fair to all involved, a war seemed like a pretty eminent reason to move the newest addition on the back burner.

“So you’re telling me… Bancroft gets a girlfriend?” Ron asks, looking to (Y/N) for an answer. She hesitantly gave a nod. “That’s the moral of the story? Get yourself a girlfriend and all your problems will be solved?”

“No,” Fred sniffed, moved by the book. “Ronnie, the moral is that sometimes we need help from another person to grow and accept our past!” With a loud honk into a tissue, he continued to weep.

“Nah, I still think that Harriet solved his problems.” Ron shrugged, popping a crisp into his mouth.

As Fred began to argue with Ron louder, chiming in about Hermione, Charlie gave (Y/N) a simple nod, aiming upwards towards the stairs. She got the hint quickly and excused herself.

“Tired of it yet?” asked Charlie, grabbing (Y/N)’s hand gingerly as they walked up the stairs towards his room. Bill had offered to stay in the twins room while (Y/N) was here, letting the newlyweds to have a space to themselves.

“No, not yet,” replied (Y/N). “Though,” She opened the door. “I’m rather pleased at how keenly Fred took to the book.”

“Ah,” He sat on the bed, waving his wand to shut the door once more. “He’s a bit of a romantic, no?”

“Fred? A romantic?” She laughed, pulling on her pajamas. A simple purple nightie, just touching the tops of her knees. “As if. He’s just… more in tune with the details I reckon.”

“Details… sure. Whatever you say, flower.” Charlie began to pull his socks off, eyeing his wife up and down. “You know… I bet the entire lot downstairs is going to be busy for a while.”

“Oh?” (Y/N) mused, flicking the lights off. “Busy, you say?”

Charlie nodded. “With Ron and Fred’s arguing, they sure drown out the sound, no?” He wriggled his eyebrows, climbing under the quilt next to his wife. A gentle hand caressed her thigh lightly.

“Charlie,” (Y/N) sighed, almost annoyed. “As lovely as the thought is,” He began peppering kisses to her neck, slowly down to her collarbone. “We shouldn’t.”

“Love,” more kisses. “It’s not like we’ve never fooled around up here before,” said Charlie, leaving a suckling mark below (Y/N)’s ear. “You love the risk.”

(Y/N) gently pushes Charlie away. “You’ve had too much firewhisky,” said (Y/N), pecking her husband once on the lips. “And I’m not feeling up for it.”

“Flower, I barely had any firewhisky,” he laughed. “Not nearly as much as you drink, well, normally anyhow,” a puzzled look adorned his freckled face. “Why didn’t you drink tonight? It’s Christmas Eve!”

“Are you saying I need to drink to have a good time?” (Y/N) accused, only half offended.

“Of course not! But you do find any and all reasons to have a nice drink at gatherings like these, it's odd, s’all,” He shrugged. “I mean, it’s a holiday! With the family. Our family. What better time to drink?”

“I didn’t feel like it.” (Y/N) mumbled, flopping down under the covers, turning away from her husband.

“I sense that you’re lying, love.” Charlie said, rubbing her arm gently. “You’re my wife…” mewled Charlie, hanging onto the last word longer than usual. “I’m keen to noticing these things.”  

“Oh yeah?”

“Indeed,” he quipped. “You have a rather easy tell, too.” Charlie gave a quick side glance in (Y/N)’s direction, smirking. “You tend to push your hair behind your ears, bite your lip and flick your eyes ever so slightly.”

“I do that all the time.” mumbled (Y/N).

“Does that mean? No…” Charlie gasped. “Could you’ve been lying to me the whole time I’ve known you?”

“Charlie…” (Y/N) groaned.  

“Okay, fine,” He laughed. “But you’ve been acting off these last couple of weeks. Not drinking, barely getting any sleep—”  

“—which I’m trying to do right now, thank you!” (Y/N) quipped, pulling the covers higher.

“Your mood has been real shit lately too. One moment you’re all smiles, the next you want to send me to the dog house just for looking at you.” Charlie sighed. “And I know it’s not,” his voice lowered to a whisper. “‘that time of the month’ yet, because it was last week, right?”

“No, and stop talking about my period like you’re afraid to say it.”

“Huh… It’s normally around the third week of the month, no?” He mumbled. With a gentle shake of his head, he continued. “Flower, all I’m trying to say is that even when you went to the doctor, they didn’t diagnose you with anything, right? I’m just worried something is wrong with you, (Y/N)”

“Nothing is wrong with me, Charlie.”

“Nothing? You run to the loo to empty your lunch like it’s your job,” He laughed. “I’ve never seen you like this. It’s almost as if—”

He stopped.

“Charlie?” (Y/N) turned around to check on her husband. Charlie just sat, staring forward. “Honey?” 

“(Y/N),” He continued to stare forward. “Are you…?”

“Darling,” She sat up, gingerly grabbing his hands. “Look at me.” 

Charlie’s eyes were brimming with tears, begging to be let go.

“I wanted to tell you tomorrow, a Christmas present,” (Y/N)’s eyes were swimming with matching tears. “But I guess one present early couldn’t hurt, no?” 

His eyes flicked back and forth from his wife’s, waiting for any sign of an answer. (Y/N) nodded her head slightly, fighting back the tears. Charlie wrapped his arms around his wife, hugging her tightly, afraid to let her go. “You’re kidding!” A flurry of kisses brimmed (Y/N)’s head, forming a crown upon her temple. “Love! This is a great—no—the best gift you could’ve given me”

“You’re excited?” asked (Y/N), giggling in her husband’s embrace.

“Of course I’m excited,” Charlie pulled away slightly, meeting his brown eyes with (Y/N)’s, darting between the two rapidly. “A baby. Our baby.”

In an instant, their lips met. Softly at first, crescendoing slowly into an intensity as bright as the stars above, burning hot at the sight. The moment was broken only by the parting for air, quickly returning to the fire before. Was it the thrill of their family below? Or the joy of the family growing between the two? Perhaps it was a bit of both.

“How long?” asked Charlie, rubbing (Y/N)’s upper arm gently. “I mean, how far along are you?”

“Remember that Quidditch match your friend Andre invited us to?” (Y/N) giggled.

“I don’t remember much of the match,” Charlie said, scratching his head. “Come to think of it, you pulled me into an empty stall and we—” His cheeks flushed, burning up to the tips of his ears. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” (Y/N) laughed, brushing Charlie’s hair out of his eyes. “Andre’s team won in the end, by the way.” Another laugh.

“Well, I suppose we both scored,” Charlie joined in the laughter. “But that was about two months ago, no?”

“Something like that. I found out last week at the doctor’s office,” said (Y/N). “It was the hardest thing to keep from you! I was so scared that—”    

“—that I’d be upset?”

“Something of that sort, yeah,” (Y/N) mumbled. “Of course I was being a real idiot about the whole thing, I realized that the second you figured it out.” 

“Love, I come from a family of nine,” Charlie held his breath. “Now, that’s not to say I want to rival my parents in the baby-making contest, but I’ve always wanted a little piece of that happiness. Especially with you.” 

“Charlie if you keep saying shit like that I’m going to cry,” (Y/N) warned, choking back tears, a common theme in the past few minutes. “I can’t believe I was even remotely worried.”

“What was there to be worried about?” Charlie asked, stroking (Y/N)’s hair, fingers twisting the ends lightly.  

“I’m not sure. We just got married a little over a year ago, after a bloody war had started no less—”

“—to be fair, we got married during the war.”

“I suppose we technically eloped before the war was over.” (Y/N) mumbled, tracing her hand up Charlie’s chest, resting gently.

“We also got married before Bill,” Charlie laughed. “Not an important detail, but one that I like to rub in his face.”

“Besides your points,” (Y/N) rolled her eyes. “We’re newlyweds! We’re young! I mean, we never even really had the whole ‘baby’ talk before. I was worried we weren’t ready, hardly after a war,” (Y/N) gulped. “I was worried you’d be scared.”

“Love, of course I’m scared. Babies are terrifying,” said Charlie. “With their little hands and tiny feet.” He feigned a grimace, clearly joking. “But you’re right. We are young, but that just means more years of being a family, no?” 

“I guess…”

“Now, you’re also right about the ‘baby’ talk. We haven’t really talked about it,” Charlie looked down at (Y/N). “Let’s have it now.”

“I think it’s a little late for that.” (Y/N) giggled.

“Do you ever want to have kids?” Charlie asked, ignoring his wife’s growing laughter.

“Yes.” 

“Do you ever want to have a child together?”

“Of course.”

“Then that’s all that matters, right?” Charlie said, his brown eyes meeting (Y/N)’s. “Who cares if it’s a little before we might have planned? I know that we’re going to love the shit out of our child.”

“I know you’re right,” (Y/N) mumbled. “But you don’t have any worries about all of this?”  

“Only one,” said Charlie. “I mean, if it’s not a boy to take on the Weasley name, I may consider a divorce.” Charlie hummed, smirking lightly. 

“Charlie!” (Y/N) slapped his chest rather firmly, eliciting a slight groan from the redhead. “If you keep joking like that, I may consider divorce first.”

“Flower, you know I could never divorce you,” Charlie laughed, placing a kiss to his wife’s temple. “Besides, with the amount of brothers I have, the Weasley name is rather safe I reckon,” Another kiss to her temple. “Come on, let's get some sleep.” It took only a few fleeting kisses, happy murmurs and mumblings before the couple finally retired for the night.  

—

“Well, look at the lovebirds!” George sang from the kitchen table, setting his coffee mug down, eyeing up (Y/N) and Charlie descending from the stairs. “Unusually well rested. Obviously not taking advantage of their own room I see.”

“George,” said Molly, sternly shooting a glance at her son. “Happy Christmas you two.”

“Happy Christmas, mum,” said Charlie, placing a peck to his mother’s cheek. “Happy Christmas George.”

“Yeah, yeah. Christmas or whatever,” George sipped from his mug. “You lot slept in a bit, the rest of the family is outside. You know, completing a family tradition and whatnot. So disgraceful.”

“Ah, but the real disgrace, George, is the fact you also are missing out on the snow angels,” (Y/N) chirped, grabbing a plate of hot breakfast from Molly. “Besides, everyone’s coming in for breakfast soon anyway. No one can resist Molly’s cooking.”

“Oh (Y/N), you humor me,” Molly laughed, opening the window. “Breakfast!” She called out to the rest of her family. One by one, the clan filed into the kitchen, sitting in their respective seats.

“Mum, you outdid yourself again! This food looks delicious.” Bill said, piling a load of eggs onto his plate. He handed the skillet over in Ginny’s direction, eliciting a scowl to the yellow mush beneath her nose.

“Kiss-up.” Ginny mumbled, immediately passing the cooked eggs over to Ron.

The rest of the family began eating, enjoying a rare moment of silence in the Burrow. Only sounds of scraping forks and the occasional burp echoed through the walls. Fred and George were the first to finish their plate, diving into another round of home cooking immediately after. Charlie and (Y/N) sat together, gently hold each other’s hands while they ate, Charlie sitting at the end.

“While you’re all sitting down, I suppose now’s the best time for your gifts!” said Molly, cleaning up the table. She quickly exited the kitchen only to reappear with a rather large bag. “Careful not to get any muck on them, I don’t want to do any washing today.” With a flick of her wand, the colorful stack of wool dispersed evenly among the family, a jumper settling in everyone’s lap.

“Jumpers? Oh boy, what a surprise!” George laughed.

“Really shocked our socks off, mum!” Fred added, unfurling his pile of purple.

“Oh hush,” Molly smirked. “Just go put them on and humor your mother, would you? You seem to find every other opportunity to do so.”

The twins groaned and pulled the fabric over their heads, both of the violet jumpers were adorned with their store’s logo on the front. Bill’s had a niffler, Ron’s had a Chudley Cannons print, Ginny’s had two crossing brooms and Charlie’s had (not surprising anyone) a large white dragon.

“What about yours, love?” said Charlie, elbowing (Y/N) slightly, the light blue wool rubbing against her arm. She turned to face him, the green jumper was decorated with a book and quill, the cover oddly resembling her first book. “Wow! That looks amazing!” He exclaimed. “Mum, how do you keep making these year after year?”

“With patience and a whole lot of love.” Molly smiled.

“Her enchanted knitting needles help too,” Arthur added, brushing biscuit crumbs off his new maroon sweater, ignoring the icy glare from his wife. “Besides, it’s a tradition.”

“A tradition getting harder every year,” Molly sighed. “Thankfully none of you are getting married any time soon, no need to worry about adding any other jumpers to my long list!” She laughed.

“Besides for next year, of course.” said Charlie offhandedly. (Y/N) froze.

“Next year? What’s next year?” Bill asked.

“Yeah, I don’t reckon Fred or George are going to meet anyone by next Christmas.” said Ron.

“Hey!” The twins exclaimed.

“Well…” Charlie looked up, all eyes were on him. A quick glance was given to (Y/N), who shared an equally pale face as him. He shrugged, raising his eyebrows. “You never know when people can meet each other, no? I mean, (Y/N) and I met in a coffee shop of all places!”

“Charlie…” (Y/N) began.

“Hell, we even eloped! Do you know how easy it is to do that?” Charlie continued, nervously bumbling longer sentences. “We got married in like, an hour once we set our sights on it!” He chuckled loudly, trying to drown the attention away from his sweat.  

(Y/N) stood up, placing a hand on Charlie’s shoulder. “Before Charlie continues to blabber like a right idiot,” she said, shutting her husband up successfully. He sighed loudly. “I’m pregnant.” The entire table sat in stunned silence.

“That’s amazing!” Fred shouted, breaking the silence, jumping from his seat. “My best friend is having a baby!” He wrapped (Y/N) in a large hug, gripping her tightly.  

“Again, am I chopped liver?” George laughed, running over to join the hug. “A baby! Promise that you’ll name him George! Or Fred. Not terribly picky on that.”

“Boys! You shouldn’t hug (Y/N) that hard,” said Arthur. The twins loosened their grip slightly. “Congratulations you two,” He glanced between the happy couple. “Children are a blessing.”

“Is that why you had seven of them?” Ron asked, getting slapped on the shoulder by his mother.

“Oh (Y/N),” Molly cooed, fighting back her tears. "My first grandchild! We couldn’t be more thrilled for you!” She ran over to Charlie, embracing him in the warmest bearhug she could’ve mustered. “I can’t wait to start knitting their jumper! It’ll be so tiny I won’t mind the extra on the list.”        

“How long have you been keeping that secret, Charlie?” Bill asked, smiling at his brother, amused at the kisses their mother was placing on Charlie’s cheek.

“He’s barely known a day,” (Y/N) frowned in Charlie’s direction. He smiled sheepishly. “I’ve only known for a week. It’s still early, but we’re excited.”

“I hope it’s a girl,” Ginny added. “That way we’d finally be on our way to have a boys versus girls Weasley quidditch match!” 

“With my quidditch skills and (Y/N)'s creative mind? I’m sure they’d be an amazing quidditch player!” Charlie bubbled in delight. “Though, how young would be too young to get them on a broom?” 

“Charlie! We’re not putting our baby on a broom!” (Y/N) scolded. “Besides, they could easily get my quidditch skills.” 

“But you don’t have any quidditch skills?” Fred said, cocking his head.

“You can hardly keep yourself up on a broom!” George added.

“Exactly,” (Y/N) hummed, sitting down, a hand resting on her barely existing bump. “I say we stop hypothesizing and projecting onto the baby. Whatever they choose to be and do will be great…” (Y/N) sighed. “Because Charlie and I are the best, so our baby is going to be the best baby ever.”

“Nailed it, darling.” said Charlie, high-fiving his wife.

“You two really deserve each other.” Ron groaned.

“We do,” Charlie hummed, beaming down to his wife. “We really do.”

With the big news out of the way, the Weasley’s enjoyed the rest of their holiday morning, welcoming Percy and Harry home later in the afternoon. Once the two were caught up on gifts and laughter, the family had finally found peace in their holiday. No more big secrets, no more stressing about keeping said secrets. Just a relaxing and calming holiday before the whirlwind of parenthood whisked Charlie and (Y/N) up into a tizzy. But they were ready.

They’re Weasleys, after all.  

__

General Tag List: @maralisa124 , @leighxlover , @hey-its-me-rai , @missihart23 , @biatheintrovert , @luna-xxxxx , @chocolaterumble, @why-am-i-sad-and-sleepy

Charlie Weasley Tag List: @sungoddessra , @crescent-ia , @phantom-pheonix , @dccomicnerd-world , @marveltrash99 , @graymountaingal, @storiesbycaroline, @mytinybaguette , @garbdump

want to be added to a tag list? hmu in the replies or ask box with what characters you’d like to be tagged with!

[opheliawritesxo]

Cold Feet

Prompt (in bold): 25 – “I was worried. You could have at least called.”

Pairing: 7 – Johnny Storm x Reader

Summary: You and Johnny are engaged and happy.. right? Well that’s what you thought.

Warnings: angst, strong language

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: This is day 3 of 30 prompts. The list is here if you wanna check it out (x). Welp.. this is my first attempt at an ‘x reader’ fic from scratch. I’m truly sorry if it’s terrible. I’m so used to third person that this was tricky to write. Also, sorry not sorry ‘bout the angst.

It was a random Thursday in August when everything went to shit.

Johnny had gone to bed with you, radiating enough heat that the air conditioning was a constant staple in your life. Sometime between falling asleep and the time your alarm had gone off, Johnny was gone. It wasn’t unusual for him to leave; he was the human torch after all and one fourth of the Fantastic Four so of course he had to leave sometimes at the drop of a hat to go ahead and save the world. He always left a hasty note written in his chicken scratch or even a text if he was in a rush but this time; there was nothing.

Biting your lip, you pushed yourself out of bed and got ready for the day. You worked at the local coffee shop down the road. That’s where you two had met four years ago. The man no one thought could be tied down proposed to you on Christmas Eve just passed and you were ecstatic to finally get to marry the love of your life.

Heading into the kitchen you made yourself a morning coffee, checking your phone just in case Johnny had left you a message or a voicemail. He hadn’t. Grumbling to yourself you took a sip of your coffee before heading through to the bedroom to get ready for the day. You couldn’t bare to turn on the news lest you see anything about whoever or whatever Johnny was fighting today.

           Work went by quickly, you didn’t have a TV there, so the news wasn’t on. At least it wasn’t in Manhattan, people were going about their everyday business as normal so he couldn’t be here. The most you heard was that the Avengers were in Italy on a relief mission but the Fantastic Four rarely worked with the Avengers, only if it was something uncontainable and they needed reinforcements.

Getting home, you expected to hear Johnny’s music blasting but there was nothing. Sighing you still called out his name. No response. Still no messages or notes. You’d checked everywhere before you ran out to work in case it had slipped under the bed or fallen off the kitchen counter. To say you were worried was an understatement. If he wasn’t here by morning you told yourself you’d call him and if he didn’t answer, you’d send a message to Suzie.

Morning came and still no messages from Johnny. You’d slept at most, an hour, the entire night. Hoping every little noise you heard was Johnny coming home, every notification on your phone a text from him. Nothing.

“Fuck this.” You grumbled, rummaging for your laptop so you could check your google alerts. You didn’t have them on your phone because you knew you’d get too into them, too obsessed with every mention of Johnny and a mystery blonde, brunette or red head. You trusted him with every part of your soul, but you hated seeing the alerts even though you knew they were all just for show. Usually some fan-girl or fan-boy who wanted a picture with him and the news outlets always tried to twist it.

There was nothing.

Nada.

Diddly squat.

That was beyond unusual. The last google alert was from three days ago and it was of you and Johnny on date night. It had been one of Starks annual galas and the Fantastic Four had been invited. You’d never been to a gala before and Johnny wanted to indulge you. Looking at the photo of you two slow dancing brought tears to your eyes. Where was he?

           Searching through your contacts, you clicked on Suzie’s name. You hoped to god she’d answer. Three rings later and your future sister-in-law’s voice came down the line.

“Y/N?” She said with a soft sigh.

“H-Hey Suze.. uhm.. is Johnny alright it’s just I haven’t heard from him this morning.” Biting your nails as you waited for Suzie to tell you he’d broke his phone; they were out of cell range.. anything but-

“Yeah he’s here, hold on.. Johnny!” You felt relief wash over you. He was okay. “Uhm Y/N, sorry Reid’s just pulled him aside for a minute. I promise I’ll get him to call you as soon as he’s done.”

“Was the mission a hard one?”

“Mission?”

“Yeah.. I- you guys went on a mission right?”

“No.. haven’t been on one in a couple of weeks.” That stopped your heart. If there was no mission then why did Johnny have to leave that early without a note? You’d assumed that he’d been off saving the world when really he’d been in Manhattan the whole time. You could feel the tears starting in your eyes.

“Suzie, sorry I have to go.” You said quickly, not waiting for a reply before you hung up. Giving into the sobs that so desperately wanted to tear themselves out of your throat. Throwing your phone aside you pulled the covers back over your head and burrowed yourself in. You weren’t coming back out for anything or anyone.

It was hours later when you finally woke up, having cried yourself to sleep. The sound of the front door closing finally registered as what had woken you up. Leaning over to grab your phone you saw the missed calls from work, Suzie and Johnny.

“Hi..” You were surprised you didn’t get whiplash from how fast you turned your head to the bedroom door. Johnny was there, he looked like he hadn’t slept. “I’m sorry Y/N.” He croaked moving towards you. Raising an eyebrow, you ignored him, pushing yourself out of bed and heading into the bathroom.

“I was worried. You could have at least called.” Your voice barely above a whisper as you grabbed your toothbrush.

“I know, I know. I’m so sorry darlin’.”

“Sorry means shit to me right now.” You snapped, glaring at him. “You just upped and left! What the fuckJohnny?”

“I needed space to think..” Your toothbrush clattered into the sink. You didn’t even need to ask what he needed the space to think about. You knew. You knew because you knew Johnny like the back of your hand.

“About us? The wedding isn’t even for another eight months!”

“I.. I’m sorry.” You could feel the tears coming back, but you refused to cry.

“Say sorry one more time. I dare you.” You had hoped that there would be more bite behind your words, but you were drained. You didn’t have any fight left in you.

“Darlin’” You stopped him before he could get close enough to wrap his arms around you. You’d always ran cold; it was something you hated, the constant need for layers was always a pain in the ass. Until you met Johnny. He was a furnace, literally. He always knew how to heat you up, whether that was one of his cuddles or even just his cheeky grin thrown in your direction. Shaking your head, brushing past him as you moved to pack a bag.

“I’m going to Claire’s. You look like you could use the rest, maybe some more time to think.” You croaked. You could feel the cold seeping back into you so drastically it was like you’d just walked into a freezer.

“Please don’t go.. Y/N please!” You could hear the tears in his voice. You didn’t reply, slamming the door behind you. Walking onto the streets of Manhattan in the muggy heat of August, you pulled your jacket tighter around you try to curtail the chill seeping through you knowing that you’d just walked out on your furnace; and your heart.

[swan--writes]

A Very Mr. Finn Christmas

There was something about ‘Dewey Christmas’ that just sounded...wrong. Anyway, Merry Belated Christmas to those who celebrate! ❤💚

Warnings: none

Words: 1,936

The year had been a bastard. First was your dog dying, then Dewey getting sent home for last school year because of the pandemic, then the spike in visibility of police brutality and the protests. The summer had been brutally hot, you weren’t working, you and Dewey had had to quarantine separately for more than a month and neither of you had been able to see any of your friends. You spent so much time on the couch at your parents’ place upstate before your partner eventually joined you, once his own lease had run out. Despite both of your relief at Dewey getting out of the city, that had also been when he found out for certain that he wouldn’t be able to see his kids in person. California had caught fire, one of your grandparents died of lung cancer and had a funeral you couldn’t attend because of COVID, and another was all set to spend Christmas in the hospital.

Yes, the year had indeed been a bastard, but thankfully, it was almost a dead bastard.

Since your parents had broken down and gone to visit your aunt, you and Dewey had the large house to yourselves for two weeks. The two of you had been pleasantly surprised: despite both needing a healthy amount of alone time, you still weren’t sick of each other. Not only that, but your relationship had fully survived the year. If anything, you were closer now. You still loved his soft eyes, the give of his chubby stomach when he held you, the way his arms felt like your own personal radiators.

Perhaps you shouldn’t have been surprised. Dewey Finn was the kindest man you knew, and the best partner you could have asked for. As immature and rambunctious as he could be, he was also sweet and soft and – though he would never admit it – quite sensitive. Dewey hadn’t seemed to want to talk about it, but he was pretty clearly heartbroken that he couldn’t see his students face-to-face this year. He had held most of his frustration in, since he knew how much it bothered you that you couldn’t work at all with the pandemic happening. Still, you could hear him grumbling in the office your parents had set up for him.

Now, at Christmas, you were trying to find ways to make the season special for your partner. By the last week, you were holding yourself back from writing out a literal Festivities Schedule. You had made a plague year Christmas playlist, trying your best to channel him as you arranged it. It was far from perfect, but you thought he appreciated it.

Your dad’s studio was full of art supplies, so you and Dewey painted ornaments. Neither of you were particularly skilled, but he didn’t care, so you decided you didn’t care either. Fortunately, you had thought to wear clothes you could get paint on because, naturally, it had taken all of ten minutes for your painting session to turn into a full on paint battle to the death. You were fairly certain Dewey had started it, though he insisted on his innocence. Either way, you wound up with Shining Stars gold on your nose and Dark Winter Skies blue all over your sleeve. Dewey got a streak of Santa Red on his arm and splashes of Sparkling Snow glittery white across his shirt and pants. You were sure you still had some glitter in your hair from when he had tackled you and, in a gruff Muppet voice, insisted that you had turned him into the Glitter Monster. Dewey had tickled you until your tears of laughter had soaked into his shirt.

Eventually, you thought to tap out and, breathlessly, you kissed his hand in surrender. Dewey had kissed your nose in return, and come away with a smudge of gold paint across his lips. So he left to wash his face, and you left to make Christmas cookies, and he joined you in the kitchen. You spend the rest of the night playing Mary Lambert’s new holiday EP and singing at each other, harmonizing at all the best parts. He, of course, had no patience for ‘Ave Maria,’ and took the opportunity to wrap his arms around you – getting yet more glitter all over you – and gently sway with you.

The next day was when the snowstorm hit. Your parents’ plow guy cleared the driveway (twice), but you and Dewey were responsible for the walkway. You woke up early to shovel first thing in the morning, despite Dewey’s unconscious arm trying to prevent you from getting out of bed. Peeking through the curtains, you almost let him.

One hour after you went back inside, you could hardly tell that you had shoveled at all.

The snow was lighter on the walkway, however, when you went back outside with Dewey to shovel again. You got the sense that he was enjoying it far too much, and you wondered if he had ever had to shovel before. You imagined that growing up in NYC didn’t leave many opportunities, but you didn’t ask. In fact, you were especially quiet all day.

Finally, when you lost power, Dewey asked if you were alright. It wasn’t until he asked that you realized that the seasonal depression had snuck back into your brain. Dewey was predictably wonderful, and you had to bite the inside of your cheek to hold back tears. Your partner stood back while you lit up the stone fireplace in your mother’s library, then rolled you up in a blanket on the floor, scattering a few pillows around you.

Dewey heated apple cider over the fire. He picked out a small copy of A Christmas Carol, bound in soft red leather, with gold leaf decorating the cover. It had your mother’s name in it, and just below that, yours in shaky lettering. That did make you cry, but only for a moment. Dewey leaned back against your legs and read the first stave to you while you drank your cider. You took over for him after that, for the next stave. Since you were both musicians with decent vocal stamina, you managed to get through the entire book before you had to call it a night.

When you woke up the next day, it was Christmas Eve. The power was back on, the decorations were hung, the tree was decorated, the presents were wrapped, and the cookies were soft. All that was left was to prep dinner for Christmas Day and dance in the kitchen. As far as Dewey was concerned, there was no type of dancing better than kitchen dancing, and you had to agree. Your parents’ kitchen had plenty of open space, and you could twirl each other around or slide in your socks without running into counters or corners.

The plow guy came by to do one more pass over the driveway and throw down some salt. You donned your mask for the first time all week to bring a box of Christmas cookies out to his truck. It surprised you, how thrilled you were to speak to a new human.

When you returned to Dewey, it still felt as cozy as ever. He jumped around to what almost felt like sacrilegious renditions of Christmas songs, including – though not limited to – a truly perplexing version of ‘All I Want for Christmas is You’ by a supremely emo band from the early 2000s. Dewey had insisted it be added to your playlist, and who were you to argue?

He brought out his guitar while you made the sweet potatoes. You were particular about your grandmother’s sweet potato recipe. When he rolled up his sleeves to make pie dough, you hopped up onto the counter, sufficiently out of the way. Dewey wouldn’t give you his exact recipe, though considering his tendency to use bowls instead of measuring cups, you weren’t entirely certain that he knew his exact recipe.

By the time you were both finished with all of the dishes, it was pitch dark out. There was butter underneath his fingernails and French bread underneath yours, flour on both of your shirts, and tension in both of your backs. You fell asleep long before midnight.

The next morning, you heard Dewey’s voice before you saw his face.

“Hey,” he said. His lips brushed against your ear.

You groaned and snuggled deeper under your Christmas quilt.

“Hey,” your partner said, more insistently. He squeezed your waist, and you groaned again but opened your eyes.

“Yes?” you muttered.

Dewey nosed at the skin below your ear. “Merry Christmas.”

Your eyes sprung open now, and you sat up. “It’s Christmas.”

“Yeah.” You could hear the smile in his voice. He must have been awake for a while now.

“Merry Christmas.” You looked at him then. There was a cold gray light filtering into the room, and you could see snow falling gently through a gap in the curtains across from the bed. Dewey’s hair was mussed, and a few waves hung in his face. His stubble was coming in full force. His tee shirt was wrinkled. There was still some Christmas Tree green clinging to the edges of his fingernails.

“What are you lookin’ at?” he asked you playfully.

You suppressed an eye roll and settled for tapping his nose. “You, wise guy. You’re cozy.”

“I’m cozy?”

“M-hm.”

“Can a person look cozy?”

“Well obviously, ‘cause you do. You’re cute.” You tapped his nose again, twice, very lightly. Dewey scrunched up the bridge of his nose, but didn’t lose the soft joy in his expression. “Oh! I have something for you.” You reached blindly for your phone, feeling around on the bedside table while Dewey straightened up.

“Didn’t we set out all our presents?”

“Yeah…” you dragged out the word. “This was sorta last minute.” Your partner waited while you found your phone and opened up your photo gallery. When you found the video you wanted, you opened it and held up the phone between yourself and Dewey.

“…baby?” he said when he saw what was on the screen,

“Yeah?”

“What is this?”

“I may or may not have conspired with your students behind your back.”

In the video, Summer was yelling at his band, trying valiantly to get them all into some sort of order. It seemed to be working. The students seemed to be in their band room, but most of them wore masks. The only kids who were unmasked were Dewey’s singers, and they were spaced apart from one another.

“Is that legal?” Dewey asked. You elbowed him, and he laughed. It was a quiet laugh, though. Almost astonished.

“Hi, Mr. Finn!” Summer said in the video, now facing the camera. “We wanted to do something for you, after all your hard work during these times. So we–”

“She means your–”

“Freddy! Shut it!” Summer snapped. After a short breath, she turned to the camera once again. “We put a little something together for you.” With that, Summer practically touch-stepped offscreen.

When you glanced over at Dewey, he was watching you.

“What?” you laughed.

“I love you.” You heard cymbals playing through your phone’s speaker.

“Shh, it’s starting!” You snapped your attention back to the screen. Dewey shook his head, but followed your gaze.

“I love you too,” you muttered quickly, as the first chords of ‘Faith Noel’ began to spring from Lawrence’s keyboard.

Outside, the snow fell softly to the ground. Inside, beside Dewey, you were warm, and he was cozy, and he loved you. What more could you ask for on Christmas?

.

.

Please reblog, if ye are so moved.

Tags List: @skiddyyo @a-okay-rj @geeky-marie @darkblueeyedperson @hannah-de-lioncourt @ironmansuucks @missihart23 @ballerinafairyprincess @thewolfisapartofmysoul

[frauleinjustice]

Saiouma Prompt: Christmas Eve

Good afternoon, everyone! Merry Christmas! I wanted to do a short-”short” KJDJKFDKJFD- oneshot with the good boys! And of course: in one of my favorite AUs ever, phantom thief/detective, heheh....

Summary: Shuichi thought he was going to spend Christmas Eve alone, since he didn’t have anyone to spend it with romantically. But when he arrives home, he’ll receive a nice surprise: the phantom thief, Ouma Kokichi, there! And so, they spend Christmas Eve together, enjoying Christmas cake, exchanging presents... and just being happy to be with the one they fell for...

Hehe so basically, just wanted to write some cute fluff! As always, I hope you enjoy and thank you in advanced for reading if you do~! Once more, Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays! I hope you all had a great Christmas Eve/having a fantastic Christmas Day! 🎄 ♥

Tonight was Christmas Eve. Decorations lit up the city and couples happily strolled down the streets. Shuichi himself was currently heading back home while holding a bag containing a Christmas cake inside. It’d normally be very difficult to still find one during this time, but this was actually a personal order made by a baker. The baker was friends with the latest client Shuichi helped, and so as thanks, asked their baker friend to have a cake prepared just for him. He was truly appreciative, and couldn’t wait to enjoy it once he got home. In truth… he was going to spend tonight at home. He didn’t have anyone to spend it romantically with, and his colleagues were spending tonight with their own significant other/spouse. Not that being single usually bothered him, since he was normally a very busy man anyway, but even he couldn’t deny how nice it must feel to spend tonight with someone you love… “Maybe I’ll just bring any leftover slices to my job when we have our Christmas party tomorrow…” He mumbles to himself as makes his way up the stairs to his apartment building. Kicking off any extra snow, he takes out his keys and enters inside with a small huff of relief after finally being out of the cold. 

He hangs his coat up and takes off his shoes after placing the bag of cake on the living room table. He then plops onto the couch and closes his eyes for a moment, muttering: “Ahh, warmth… I can’t wait to have some coffee…” 

And as if his wishes were answered, a mug of coffee is placed on the table. “Heeere you go: eggnog latte!” 

“Mmm, thank you, Ouma-kun…” And then the realization hits him. “-?!” Practically rocketing back up on the couch, he instantly snaps his neck to the direction of a certain voice. “W-Wait, what the: O-Ouma-kun?!” 

“Nishishi! Surpriiiise!” Declares the man with his arms dramatically raised up before he sits down on the opposite couch and sips his own mug of coffee. It was none other than the infamous phantom thief, Ouma Kokichi. He had barged his way into the detective’s apartment while he was out. Not that it was the first time he suddenly showed up out of nowhere, no matter if Shuichi was already there or not; yet it shocks the detective all the same each and everytime, much to the other’s amusement. “Are you always going to be that shocked when I appear, Saihara-chan? You should hurry up and get used to it, or you might die from a heart attack!” He chides as if he were actually concerned, yet he had a sly grin on his face.

“A-And whose fault would that be?! That is not the kind of thing one should get used to, Ouma-kun!” The snicker he gets in response makes him pout even harder, huffing before he takes a sip of his coffee to warm himself up. He wondered if Kokichi had remembered him saying he was a fan of this seasonal drink one time, hence why he made it. It’d actually make him kind of happy, if so: and it tasted good, too… “Anyway… wh-what are you doing here? Are you not spending tonight with anyone special…?”

“Huh?” Looking at him as if he just asked a severely dumb question, Kokichi just scoffs at him. “You think I have time for cheesy crap like that? I’m not a hopeless romantic like you, Saihara-chan. Besides… it’s much more fun to torment you. So if you thought you were going to spend your precious little Christmas Eve in peace…” He holds a finger to his lips with a sly smile and leering look in his eyes. “Think again.” 

“.............” Shuichi just gives him a baffled look before he hangs his head low with a groan. “Lucky me…” Despite his seemingly complaints, he wasn’t actually mad about it. If anything: he was actually happy to see him. It had honestly been a while since he’s done so. He couldn’t deny that he actually missed him… and while it wasn’t new for Kokichi to sometimes not show up in a case of his at all: at this point, he had gotten so used to encountering him that it felt odd whenever he didn’t. And now here he was, having made himself comfortable in Shuichi’s home. Kokichi wasn’t even wearing his usual white suit, instead wearing a purple casual dress shirt and black pants. His hair was also in a small ponytail, too. They often didn’t encounter each other outside of their occupations, so it was a rare sight to see Kokichi in regular clothes. Shuichi couldn’t help but stare for a moment, finding him handsome… and he found his ponytail cute as well, before blushing slightly and darting his eyes away when he caught himself looking so much.

Kokichi had noticed him staring and couldn’t help the giddy smile on his face, his own cheeks turning a light pink. He loves the thought of looking so attractive to him that he can’t help but stare. And Kokichi thought Shuichi looked just as attractive in casual wear as well, the detective wearing a gray sweater over dark blue jeans. He found him attractive regardless, in all honesty. Not just physically: everything about the detective made him grow more and more attracted to him. A man who can keep up with him, but can still surprise him, and even be unpredictable to the thief at times; those were things Kokichi very rarely found in a person, and while it sometimes frustrates him that he can’t figure him out… at the same time, he loves it, too. He never thought it would be a detective that fascinates him in a way no else does: and in turn, Shuichi never grew so fond of a criminal like he did for Kokichi. While he can still annoy, confuse, and irritate him a lot… Kokichi can also surprise him, make him smile, make him laugh, even assist him at times…. and made him even grow to enjoy their exhilarating chases into the night. He was just such a big mystery to the detective… one that fascinates him, wants to figure out more… a man that truly intrigues him like no other.

In all honesty, both had been scared for a moment. What if Shuichi came home with a significant other, if he had one? Or what if Kokichi was spending tonight with his own significant other, if he had one? Nerve-wrecking questions that went through their minds before they encountered each other in Shuichi’s home. Even if neither dared to tell the other yet, they fell for each other… so if either assumption had been true, it would’ve broken one or the other’s heart. But now that they know neither assumption was true, it was a sea of relief washed over them both. It especially made Shuichi so happy that he suddenly mumbles: “...I brought home some Christmas cake. I’ll bring plates for us.” Before walking suspiciously fast to the kitchen. He was trying to hide the smile that dares form on his wriggling mouth. He wasn’t going to spend Christmas Eve alone, after all… and with the person he secretly wanted to spend it with the most. 

“?” Raising an eyebrow, Kokichi wasn’t going to let that slide as he waltzed into the kitchen, snaking his arms around the detective’s waist from behind. “Saihara-chaaan?” He tried leaning his head over to look up at him, which made Shuichi quickly turn his head away so he couldn’t see it. Though unfortunately for him, Kokichi had seen that smile on his face for a flash of a second, “Ohh?” An intrigued hum leaves him as the smile on his face widens into an amused one, drumming his fingers along the area of Shuichi’s stomach. “What are you smiling about, hmm? Is Saihara-chan that happy to see me~?”

“Ack…!” He naturally hit the nail right on the head, Shuichi’s eyes nervously darting about as he stammered out: “Th...That’s…! I-I, well, uh…. Th-that information is…. cl-classified!” 

“Uh-huuuh. Sure it is.” That was precisely the reaction he wanted for his surprise visit. Shuichi was so happy to see him… it made him giddily bounce on his feet and his heart flutter a bit in his chest. Much as he wanted to keep teasing his flustered, whining detective, he is excited to eat some cake with him. And so, he lets go of him as he chimes: “Anyways, cake time! Better hurry or I’ll eat the entire thing, myself!”

“Ueeue.. o-okay.…” A small exhale to compose himself, Shuichi nods and also gathers a knife to cut the cake with. Kokichi decides to grab forks for them before they both head back to the table. Once he sets everything down, Shuichi takes the container out of the bag and lifts the lids up. He cuts them both a slice and places it on their plates. “This looks so tasty… time to enjoy.” When he takes a bite, he hums in delight, giving an approving nod. “And just as tasty as it looks, too! I love it. And to think I got a personal order from a professional baker… ah, because you see, the latest client I helped asked his baker friend to have an order of this personally made for me, as additional thanks for helping him out.”

Kokichi also gives a  delighted hum at how delicious the cake tastes. So sweet and fluffy… he can tell this was very well made. “Mmm?” He hummed curiously when Shuichi told him that. “Is that so? Saihara-chan must’ve really done that great of a job, to get thanked like this. But you always do, don’t you?”

“Ah…!” The genuine compliment without the usual back handedness caught him by surprise. “Oh, th-thank you. That’s very kind of you to say, Ouma-kun…”

“Nishishi…” Kokichi just smiles brightly and nods before he continues eating. He truly meant what he said, too: Shuichi truly was a one of a kind when it came to detectives. Serious, intelligent, intuitive… yet kind, caring, and very passionate about his job. He was never one to resort to shady measures to get what he wants, and it was obvious that he truly cares about his clients, and would never be the type to give up on them. That kind of passion was sadly rare to find in most detectives and officers in general. Even if he knows the detective would be too modest to agree, Kokichi feels he truly is a great example that other detectives should follow. 

For a moment, the two ate their cake in comfortable silence. After taking a small sip of his coffee, does Shuichi speak up as he asks: “I’m curious… how have you been? I haven’t seen you in a while, so that’s why I was even more surprised than usual to suddenly see you…”

“Mmn, I’ve been good.” He answers, taking another bite out of his cake before he continues. “I’m a very busy man, you know. I’m in hot demand right now!” Or rather, he had been busy with an especially difficult heist. Even for a master thief like him, stealing a treasure from a very heavily guarded, giant cruise ship was no easy task at all. “I was almost shot, stabbed, thrown in the lake… you should’ve seen it!” And while nearly getting stabbed or thrown into the lake was a lie…. He was chased down by officers and security guards from the ship as soon as he could escape it. Those security officers did carry guns, and had Kokichi not used his usual tricks to lose the police: he probably could have been shot at… 

“I...I see… and don’t say things like that so excitedly…” He sighs. Though he was glad to hear he’s been good, and that he returned safely from his mission. He couldn’t help but worry about him at times whenever he hasn’t seen him in a while, always hoping that he doesn’t get hurt or worse out there… “And here I was wondering if you’ve finally been arrested. Heh, heh, heh.” 

“Hmph!” He comically puffs his cheeks out, jabbing his fork in Shuichi’s direction as he rants: “Saihara-chan thinks he’s so funny, huh? As if! I lost them so easily when they tried to chase me: Boring. Only you can keep up with me, Saihara-chan. That’s why you aren’t boring.”

“O...Ouma-kun..." The serious look on Kokichi’s face as he says that, and the lack of the usual joking or patronizing tone in his voice… he knew this was something that, when said by Ouma Kokichi: was extremely special. He makes their chases feel fun: he isn’t boring to him. It made a warm smile form on his face as he looked down at his plate. “Maybe odd of me to say, but… thank you. I’m… actually kind of happy to hear that.” 

“Good.” He was glad Shuichi believed him. It isn’t something he would even say as a joke, after all. “But aww…” Now that mischievous smile was right back on his face as he now decides to stand up and sit at the couch Shuichi was on, leaning against him. “Could it be that… Saihara-chan missed meeee~?”

“G-Gah!” He yelps when Kokichi suddenly sits next to him, quickly turning his face away. “I-I…!” He nervously darts his eyes around before hanging his head low. “.......” And instead of dodging the question again, he mumbles a quiet: “Y….Yes… I did...”

“!” He expected he’d get another ‘that’s classified’ as a response, which would’ve made him laugh: but Shuichi just flat out admitting that he did miss him makes him beam even more.“...Hah! That’s what I thought! You’d better had. And I guess… I missed Saihara-chan, too.” But then quickly adds in before he can get embarrassed, too:  “...Missed driving him crazy, that is~!” 

“G-Geez…” He playfully gives him a nudge, chuckling softly when Kokichi nuzzles against his arm with a snicker. Despite the rising heat to his cheeks, he looks down at Kokichi with a soft smile on his face, receiving the same look in return. Kokichi also missing him made Shuichi happy, too. Both truly had grown on each other, to the point that they can’t be away from each other for long. “Anyway, you nerd… let’s finish eating. There is something I… um….” He shyly looks away. “...W-Want to give you.”

“...Oh?” He tilts his head. “You got me a present…?” Inside of Shuichi’s bag was a gift he bought for Kokichi. He had bought it without thinking, despite thinking on his way home that he wouldn’t even see him: but he still wanted to buy him something, even if he knew that gift exchanging was moreso a thing couples did on Christmas Eve. An excited glint in his eyes, Kokichi nods his head and goes back over to where he was originally sitting. “Ooookay! I expect that Saihara-chan bought me something worthy of an esteemed phantom thief such as myself. ...Just like I know he will like what I got for him, too!”

“!” Shuichi’s eyes widened in surprise. “You… bought me something, too? R-Really?” Kokichi did have the same idea. Even if he’d normally find such things cheesy, he wanted to get something for Shuichi: something he will claim he’s sure will love, but in truth, hopes that he will. “I know it’s early to say this, but… th-thank you! I’m sure I will love it. And I hope you’ll love what I got you as well…”

“Mmmhm! It’s a gift from me, so I know you’ll love it!” He snickers, before his smile softens a bit. “...If it’s a gift from Saihara-chan, then I know it’ll be good. And that’s not a lie!”

“H-Heheh…” That made him happy to hear… After a while, the boys finished their slices and drinks. After taking a quick moment to wash the dishes, Shuichi places the lid back on the cake container and puts it away in the fridge. He then goes to grab his bag to retrieve the gift bag inside it, with Kokichi doing the same before they sit close to each other. “Alright, um… d-do you want to go first? Here…” Shuichi hands Kokichi the box inside of the gift bag. It was a white gift box, wrapped with a pretty lavender ribbon. “...For you. I-I know you said you expect it to be good, but I still hope you’ll like it…”

“Saihara-chan worries too much… okay! Time to see how satisfactory this gift shall beeee!” With that, Kokichi carefully undoes the ribbon instead of just tearing it off, since he liked it. He eagerly opens the gift box… before his eyes go wide. “!” Inside was a diamond tassel brooch. The brooch part was in the shape of a crown with gold accents, while the smaller end had a purple rose motif on it. Slowly, Kokichi holds it in his hands to have a good look at it, completely in awe. “Saihara-chan…. this is….”

Kokichi looked so amazed, much to his relief… he clasps his hands together as he explains: “Y...Yeah! It’s a diamond brooch. I figured that… since you love to incorporate fancy accessories in your clothes,  you may like something like this. Since you’re a phantom thief, I thought you would like one made out of diamonds, h-hehe… and you seem to like purple, so I thought you would like the rose motif on the smaller end.”

“Saihara-chan… really put that much thought into it, huh…?” He could’ve just simply bought him any kind of brooch, and yet, he wanted to buy him a specific kind that Kokichi could especially love. That was just like him, he thought to himself: and exactly what he loved about him. 

He nods, giving him a warm smile. “Mmhm…. I wanted it to really be a present that you will really love. If you’d ever like to, maybe you can wear it with your phantom thief outfit. Ah, actually: would you like to put it on? I’d love to see how it looks on you.” Nodding, Kokichi proceeds to place the brooch on his shirt. “Ohh…!” Shuichi utters a small gasp of awe as he takes a close look. “It looks very nice on you, Ouma-kun! I just knew it would.” 

“......” Kokichi could feel his cheeks heat up. Shuichi thought it looked nice on him… even if he was a bit flustered, Kokichi was genuinely very happy. “Shumai… I…” And slowly, a bright, genuine smile begins to widen on his face. “...I love it! A very worthy and befitting present for me, indeed! Nishishi!” He exclaims happily with a laugh, rapidly nodding his head. “Mmmhm! I’m definitely going to be wearing this with my thief outfit from now on: thanks, Saihara-chan! You’re the best.” 

“I’m so glad…!” It was music to Shuichi’s ears to hear how much he loved it, laughing along with him. He was truly relieved that he did, making the spontaneous buy all the more worth it.

“Now, it’s Saihara-chan’s turn to open his gift! Here, here!” He chimes excitedly, practically shoving the present in his hands. The gift box was brown with a gold victorian pattern on it, complete with a black bow. “Ahh, such pretty wrapping paper and bow… alright, let’s see…!” After carefully undoing the wrapping paper and taking off the ribbon, Shuichi opens it. “!!!!” And seeing what was inside, he nearly dropped the lid of the box in shock. “O...Oh! Th-This is-!!” Inside the box was a mystery novel. Not only that, but it was an incredibly rare first edition of the book. “This is a… first edition! And from such an esteemed author such as this… normally you’d have to pay an arm and a leg for this, wouldn’t you?” 

Kokichi’s face lit up when seeing how instantly excited and surprised Shuichi was. “Riiight~? But that’s not all: open it to the very first page.”  

“Ah?” A curious head tilt, Shuichi does as told and opens it to the first page. “!!!” He gasps when seeing that the author’s signature was on it. “I-It even has the author’s signature on it, too?! Ah..!!” This was not only one of Shuichi’s most favorite authors, but they were considered to be one of the best mystery novel writers out there. So to have not only a first edition of their, but also their signature: saying Shuichi loved would be a great understatement. This was something he was going to absolutely treasure. “This is like a dream come true… I adore this author’s works. And now I have a first edition of their book… and their signature, too! I can’t believe it!” 

“Nishishi! Dork!” He teases, but seeing Shuichi’s growing excitement as he observes his present was so adoring to see, he found him so cute. Even if he was sure Shuichi would love it… it still relieved him to see he truly does. “I knew Saihara-chan would love it! Better not tell anyone about it, cause I stole it: but that’s a lie. I was a good boy and got it legitimately with help from some goood buddies of mine with connections! I personally had the author give me this signature. This wasn’t easy to nab, you know: so you’d better appreciate it!” 

Just as he was about to panic at his lie, he playfully rolls his eyes before nodding his head. “Of...of course! I’m very appreciative, Ouma-kun, th-thank you so much! This is the best kind of present I could ever get..!” He gives a thankful bow of his head. “I promise to take great care of it.”

“Good, good!” He trusts that he will, so Kokichi didn’t have to worry. He was also going to take great care of the brooch Shuichi got for him, too. He couldn’t wait for the next chance to wear it with his thief outfit. Once they take a  moment to safely put their gifts away, Kokichi runs back over to Shuichi and glomps him back down on the couch. “Saihara-chaaan!” 

“W-Woah!” Shuichi let out a surprise yelp when he was glomped down to the couch: but quickly after, starts laughing and wraps his around him in turn. “H-Hahah, Ouma-kun!” 

“Hehehe!” They roll around a bit on the couch,  laughing and smiling together so happily. Tonight was going so wonderfully… both were just having the time of their lives. Once they calmed down a bit, Kokichi rests his head against Shuichi’s chest. The sound of his heart beating calmly was soothing to his ears... “Tonight was fun… Saihara-chan always knows how to keep me entertained.” 

“Eheheh…” His hand lies gently on Kokichi’s back. Slowly, he dares to give it soft rubs. “I’m very happy to hear that, Ouma-kun. Tonight was really fun with you as well. And here I thought… I was just going to be spending it alone. I’m happy I didn’t: and I’m especially that… I could spend tonight with you, Ouma-kun.”

“Sh...Shumai…” He buries his face more into his chest, uttering a very quiet whine into it. He’s glad Shuichi wouldn’t be able to see the rising heat to his cheeks. “S...So sappy, sh-sheesh….You’d better be careful saying things like that. I may just get the wrong idea…” He whispers in a sultry tone, slowly circling his finger around the center of Shuichi’s chest.

“O-Oh...I...uh….” He stumbles on his words. Kokichi could hear his heartbeat suddenly become faster, which made him snicker. “Aww, don’t die on me, Mr. Detective~! Or else your heart will pop right out of your chest!” 

“Uueuueue! Y-You are the worst, sometimes!” He whines, giving his back a harmless smack before he buries his face in his hands.

“Nisishi! Sowwy~!” He laughs, definitely not being sorry as he hops back up to his feet. “Anywaaay! I’d best get going. I tormented Saihara-chan a satisfactory amount tonight!” 

“Ah?” Moving his hands away from his face, he sits up properly before looking up at him. “You’re leaving already…?”

“Yep! I’m a very busy man, you know. I’ve got lots of mayhem to commence tomorrow, so I need my beauty sleep!” In other words, he was going to have his own Christmas party with his crew. It’s why he was really hoping he could have fun with Shuichi tonight, happy that he did. Now, he’d be able to really have some fun tomorrow without any regrets. 

“D-Don’t cause too much trouble, now…” He smiles sheepishly, before he gives a small nod. A part of him wishes he could stay just a bit longer, but he understands he’ll be busy having fun tomorrow. That, and he’ll need to rest up soon for the Christmas party he’ll be going to with his colleagues, himself. “I hope you’ll have a fun Christmas day tomorrow, then. And, ah… thank you for tonight. I had a lot of fun… and thank you once more for the gift, too! I can’t wait to read it later.”

“Noo promises!” He snickers, walking over to where his stuff is. His gift was already put away in his bag, closing it back up. “Thanks, Saihara-chan! I totes will: and you’d better make sure to do the same!” He takes a moment to put on his coat, scarf, and shoes before looking back at him with a smile. “Mmn! Me too. I’m glad you love your gift. Just don’t go “accidentally” pulling an all nighter because you couldn’t put the book down again, nerd!” He teasingly ‘scolds’ with a point of his finger, laughing before his smile softens. “...And your present was nice, too. I’ll make sure it looks eeeextra good on me when you chase me into the night! And I still… have the most important treasure of all to continue pursuing.” 

He just playfully swats a hand in the air when he calls him out like that, chuckling softly with a warm smile. “Thank you, Ouma-kun… I’m happy you also had fun, and that you loved your present. Hehe, well I guess I’d better be prepared for the next time I’ll have to chase you down, then.” Though the last part makes him tilt his head in curiosity. “The... most important treasure?”

“Nishishi…” A glint in his eyes, Kokichi slowly makes his way to him. “As clueless as always… you should know more than anyone what I’m talking about.”

“...Huh?” Shuichi didn't understand what he meant at all… but when Kokichi suddenly stood in front of where he was sitting, before he started to straddle his lap- “-!” A choked gasp leaves him as Kokichi slowly wraps his arms around his neck, pressing his chest up against his. “Wh….Wh-Wha… What are y...”

He chuckles under his breath at the detective’s flustered confusion, ignoring his own rapidly beating heart. “...You still don’t get it? Geez…. I have to do everything myself, don’t I?”

“D...Do what? What are you talking abou…” But before Shuichi could finish getting that out… Kokichi leaned his face in closer, and closer… until ultimately silencing the detective with a kiss. “Mmn-!” His eyes widen and he freezes in place. Kokichi was kissing him. His lips pressed softly against his own… The further he registered that, the more he felt as if his heart was going to burst out of his chest, and his mind going a mile a minute. But despite being so confused… he didn’t dislike this at all. Kokichi’s lips felt so nice, so soft… and before he knew it, he found himself wanting to indulge, just a bit more… and presses his lips firmer against Kokichi’s, deepening it just a bit. 

“....!” Kokichi felt him deepen the kiss just slightly, making a soft gasp vibrate through him. Even if he was the one that dared to initiate the kiss, he felt like he was going to explode if it became more intense. So quickly, even if reluctantly… he breaks away. “Nishi...shishi….” Despite how heated his cheeks were, he has a leering smile on his face, chuckling breathlessly as he gives him an intense look. “The most important treasure I have yet to steal…. that I so dearly want. Is…” He pauses, slowly trailing the finger he pressed against his chest.. Right down to the area over his heart. With a light tap, he leans in much closer again to whisper: “Your. Heart.” 

“............” Shuichi couldn’t even form words. He just stares at him with wide eyes, being so red that steam could shoot out of his head. He was already dying so badly  from this: but this officially killed him. “I...wah...uuwaaahh….”

“Oopsie! I think I just murdered Saihara-chan!” Despite his teasing comment, Kokichi was dying just as badly, wanting to quickly hide that as he climbed off of him and walked over to hoist up his bag and head towards the door. “Welp, I’m out of here! See you later, Saihara-chan! Tonight was not boring at all, thanks to my beloved detective. Merry Christmas~!” And with a wave and a snicker, he exits out of the house.

“B...Bye… I’m glad you had fun. M-Merry Christmas to you, too…” Is what he manages to get out before Kokichi leaves. “.....” He holds a hand to his heart while the other hovers above his lips. He still couldn’t believe Kokichi kissed him… and that he leaned into it. “St...Stupid Ouma-kun...” He mumbles to himself. “...You’ve already stolen it.” 

[coffee-obsessed-writer]

The Pact - Part 7

Sam Winchester x Crowley’s Daughter!Reader

Gothic AU

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

A/N: This idea was a long time coming. My first true AU, so please be gentle. This will be a slow burn, multi-chapter fic. Incantation used in this chapter was taken from SuperWiki.

WC: 6.8K

Series Summary: Lord Samuel Winchester has lost the love of his life due to the actions of the Demon King, Crowley. As he plots secret revenge, his father, the King of Lawrence, decrees that Sam will wed Crowley’s daughter in order to unite the two families to protect the sacred ground the Winchester’s Kingdom is built upon.

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Crowley’s Daughter!Reader

Other Characters: John Winchester, Crowley, Rowena, Dean Winchester, Bobby Singer, Jessica Moore (deceased), Pamela Barnes

Series Warnings: 18+ only, mild language, violence, implied smut

“I think Dad and Crowley want to sacrifice your child to Eve.”

The bedroom chamber was so quiet, you could hear the distant sounds of children playing in the gardens rising up through the open window. Despite the gleeful sounds that played softly in the background, you felt as if the wind had been knocked free from your chest and felt your stomach drop. 

Looking between the Lords Winchester, you could see that Sam and Dean were also struggling with what had been revealed. You wanted to speak, had every intention to do so, but there was no air to propel any words forth.

“I--I don’t even know how to comprehend that, Dean. Why--What would make you think that our father could even entertain an idea like that?”

“Something I overheard… Look, Sammy, I don’t know what the Hell dad and Crowley are planning. I just know what I heard.”

“Which was?” Sam asked with exasperation.

“The only reason Crowley aided us with reinforcements, was because he’d made a deal.”

“Crowley, the King of Hell, make a deal? C’mon man, that’s just a Monday morning for him. What does that have to do with anything?”

“Because, part of this deal was Crowley promised Eve a new life. One created from the blood of her enemies.”

“Wh--Why? Why would she want that? She’s got all of Purgatory at her side. She has the ability to create whatever kind of life she wants!”

“Not a human life,” Dean shrugged in response. “But, I did over hear this from one of his demons, so take it with a grain of salt, wouldya?”

“Our father is a lot of things, but a monster that could sacrifice his own flesh and blood?”

“Sounds more like my father, than yours,” you replied softly. “Crowley would sacrifice anyone if it meant cementing his crown.”

“Even you?” Dean asked.

“Yes, even me.”

“Well, I guess I know who I’ll be nominating as father of the year,” Dean quipped and let his half smile fade as he made eye contact with Sam.

Sam pursed his lips tightly and sighed. “We need answers. Speculating what our father’s are up to won’t help anyone.”

“And how do you plan on getting that assurance, husband? Crowley won’t show here unless summoned. The King, if this is what is planned, won’t tell you. So, how--”

Sam grabbed your shoulder and gently turned you to face him. You did your best to stay stoic, but couldn’t help but so cracks beneath the surface. “I promise you, I will find out one way or the other. That’s the pact, right? We work together to uncover their plan--”

“Yeah, and don’t go making any babies until then,” Dean mumbled, and smiley shyly when you and Sam both looked at him with a quiet disdain. 

Yet, Dean’s words fell heavy on both you and Sam. Knowing how you had spent the night before, a quick glance between you two left a cold, numbing feeling in the pit of your stomach. Sam could almost read your mind, and gave your shoulder a loving squeeze. 

“We will get answers. But Dean’s right. Until we do, we will keep up appearances, but take no chances in creating a child.”

All you could do was nod slightly in response and present your husband with a demure smile. 

Dean cleared his throat to break up the moment. “I hate to pull your husband away, (Y/N) but I think he and I have some things to figure out before I have to leave for the Front again.”

“Wait,” Sam released you and quickly turned towards his brother. “What do you mean, go back? I thought you were home!”

“Just for a few days little brother. With Crowley’s reinforcements arriving, and the damage the rift storm caused, I can’t leave the Winchester Guard unprotected. Besides, we are actually making some headway having those black-eyed bitches with us. I hate to say it, but they are helping. I just don’t trust they won’t try and possess a few of our men if given the chance.”

Sam nodded in reluctant agreement. “I get it. It’s just, I could use you here.”

“I know, man. I do. But…”

“The greater good,” Sam replied with a half-defeated smile. “I guess we should go then, see what we can learn together while you’re here.”

“And don’t forget, plan a celebration…” Dean’s sarcasm wasn’t lost on you, but you were unsure of what he meant. 

“A celebration?”

“Yes, my father thinks we should have a large celebration, open the gates to the castle and allow the people of Lawrence to rejoice with us.”

“What’s the occasion?” you asked, not liking the sound of the King’s latest decree.

Sam signed and ran a hand through his long hair. “Our marriage and Dean’s return.”

“I see…” You hated the idea, but thought there was some way to use this to your collective advantage. “Well, one way or another we will make it work for us.”

Sam’s smile grew wide across his face, creating the cavernous dimples you had quickly come to love. “Yes, that’s exactly what we will do.”

Despite Dean’s presence, Sam pulled you into a loving embrace and held you tightly. Though your head was happily buried in Sam’s broad chest, you could feel Dean’s eyes watching you again. You understood his hesitancy in you, and your motives, but you wouldn’t let it ruin what you were building with your husband.

When you pulled back from the embrace, Sam turned back towards Dean and slapped his shoulder with one, large hand. “So, what do you say we go do a little digging.” 

Dean didn’t respond, but instead watched his little brother move towards the door to leave. He didn’t budge from his spot, or take his eyes off Sam. 

“Hey, you uh, you forgetting something?” Dean asked, arms crossed over his chest and watching Sam curiously.

Sam frowned in response and shook his head. “Don’t think so.”

“Well then you must be a witch yourself little brother. Because last I remember, you had yourself a shattered hip that barely let you learn to walk again. Now you’re basically sprinting out the door with no cane, no limp…”

Sam’s face fell instantly and lost color. then passed a nervous glance to you. Able to read his expression, you shrugged in return. ‘Should we tell him?’ ‘I guess… ‘

Sam sighed and snorted an anxious laugh. “Well, I’m not a witch but I am married to one. We got stuck in the rift storm, out in the Elven Woods. Found an old cottage and (Y/N) here worked her magic. Literally. I was able to walk with no pain, no limp… for days.”

“Days? That rift storm was weeks ago. You still look fine to me.”

“Last night, I applied a heavier dose of the ointment. Let it heat by the fire,” you paused and blushed at the memory of what happened after, “and this morning, he’s better than ever.”

“You let her work her hoodoo on you? Sammy, what were you thinking? She’s--”

“Listen here, Dean Winchester,” you interrupted, unable to hold your tongue any longer, “I understand your suspicions of me, I’ve lived with that stigma all my life just because of who my father is. But I grew up to have a mind of my own, and yes, I was taught witchcraft by the most powerful witch in all of Lawrence and beyond. Rowena MacLeod may have shown me the way of magic, but I learned a few things on my own, as well. Including love, compassion, and commitment to those in my favor. Your brother and I had a rocky start, yet we have come to a mutual understanding. If you can’t respect HIS choices in that, then I beg you to reconsider. Your brother is a wonderful man, and has been just as disrespected by his father, as I have been by mine. And if you truly believe, even for a moment, that I am capable of hurting him, well then, frankly, you’re a horses’ ass.”

Your impassioned speech fell heavy in the room for a few moments. From the corner of your eye, you could see Sam smirking. Dean’s expression, however, was more shocked than anything.

“Well alright then,” Dean finally said, “I suppose I could be wrong. Hell, hope I am.” 

You straightened your shoulders and stood as tall as you could. “You are wrong, Lord Winchester. Just you wait, you’ll see who’s side I’m on.”

Dean nodded and looked towards Sam. “Come on Sammy, let’s go see what Dad has really got cooking up with the King of Hell.”

Shortly after they left the room, you sat down on the plush bed and sank back into the pillows. A flurry of thoughts and concerns raced through your mind, but as you tucked your arm over your head, hand beneath the pillow, you felt something hard and cool to the touch. Sitting up, you removed the pillows to see the vial that had once been around your neck to be stuck between the large, carved wooden headboard and the down mattress of Sam’s bed. 

A sigh of relief released from your lips; it was so audible you were afraid someone heard you out in the corridor. You clutched the vial to your chest and began to laugh softly. Slipping the cord back around your neck, you let the small bottle fall to your chest, then tucked it beneath your dress. Feeling its weight against your skin gave you more than just relief, it gave you an idea. Unsure if the pieces would fit together, you knew you had to find out. The one person who could answer your questions, was the same woman who taught you how to concoct potions in the first place. 

Rowena.

By the time the sun had hit the midday sky, you were reaching the entrance to the Elven Woods, and clutched at the old leather satchel slung over one shoulder. It was the first time you had ventured back to them since Sam had brought you there the day after the ceremony. ‘The day he tried to kill me,’ you thought. Shaking off the feeling of Sam’s blade against you, you took the first step through the archway to the woods.

As you made your way down the bumpy terrain, you came out to the majestic oak that grew at the fork in the path. It was just as radiant as you had remembered. The sunlight streamed down through its twisted maze of leaves and branches. You could feel its energy calling to you as it did to many magical folk in Lawrence. Somehow the magic you infused into the cream was able to break through the castle’s powerful warding. But the ritual you wanted to perform now, needed this extra boost of power. 

Pressing your hand against the rough bark of the trunk, you closed your eyes and felt the power that lived within its core. Focusing your mind towards that force, you began to feel it seep into your veins. When you finally opened your eyes, you felt a surge of magic like you’d never experienced and watched as the glow around your hand began to fade. It left you even more convinced that you were doing the right thing. Stepping back from the tree, you bowed your head in thanks, and continued down the right path that would lead you to the small cottage you’d found refuge in before. 

It didn’t take long before you could see the familiar shape of the roof peeking out through the trees. You took a last glance up at the sky, unsure if another rift storm would be lurking. Blue skies still reigned above, and you walked the last hundred steps towards the old place. 

You pushed in the door, and was immediately hit by the smell of the dried herbs lining the walls. It was warm and welcoming, and you began to find a love for the vibration you felt standing within its structure. Carefully lifting off the satchel you carried on your shoulder, you laid it down on the long wooden table and unpacked its contents.

Other than the noise you made setting up an altar, there wasn’t a sound to be heard.  Summoning another witch wasn’t exactly difficult, though it did require a certain amount of concentration. Grateful for the quiet, you lit the candles and began to break up the herbs and bones as the Grimoire had instructed. Holding your hands over the cauldron, you sprinkled in the last ingredient, conjured Rowena’s face in your mind and repeated the incantation. 

Upon finishing, a burst of purple light and blue smoke erupted from the old ceramic bowl, engulfing you in its haze. Waving your hands to help it clear, you began to smile the moment you saw a hint of Rowena’s bright red hair emerging through a small clearing in the fog.

“This best be important, dear. I was right in the middle of convincing the Prince of Wales that I was his long lost sister. That man’s money could’ve set me up for life…”

“I’m sorry, grandm--Rowena… but it is important.”

“You know, dearie, there are messengers to deliver important news. Did your father not teach you anythin’?”

Her words conveyed annoyance, but her expression gave you pause to think that maybe she wasn’t as bothered as she wanted you to believe. Rowena’s half smile, pulled into true grin as she surveyed your altar in front of her.

“Impressive. Seems as though you had a good teacher,” she replied smugly, and slowly made her way round to the side you stood on. “So tell me, why did you need to call on grannie?”

“I heard some things. Some details of the pact my father made with the King.”

“Oh?” Rowena’s curiosity was transparent, and as much as you respected her, you knew deep down you couldn’t trust her. “Do tell.”

“I… can’t. I have no reassurance that it’s true, though I do plan on protecting myself if it turns out to be a fact. What I need from you, is to tell me more about this…” you paused and withdrew the vial from beneath your dress.

Rowena took a small step forward and examined the bottle. A devilish smile unfurled on her petite face as her eyes came up to meet yours.

“Well, now, what do we have here?” Her eyes lit up as her painted fingertips carefully toyed with the glass. 

“It’s a love potion. I made it before we came here, in case I needed to protect myself from Lord Winchester.”

“Smart girl, though, poison and hex bags work better in my experience,” she shrugged and let it fall gently back to your chest. “Are you and Samuel getting along? Has he tried to hurt you?”

“Yes. we are getting along now, but he did try to kill me.”

“Yet, here you stand,” her smile grew even wider, “Clever girl… did you have to use that on him?”

“No, and don’t think I will. But…” you trailed off and turned back towards the altar. Pressing your hands against the wood of the table for support, you leaned forward and found the courage to tell her what you wanted to do with it. 

“But…?”

“If what I learned is true, I may need to use it on the King.”

“The King? Oh, please tell me you don’t mean your father…”

“Rowena, please. Of course not. I mean King Winchester. I am afraid the only sure fired way I can divert is his plans--”

“Is to make him fall in love with you?”

You nodded softly, and released your grip on the table. “I don’t want to. The idea of it gives me a sick feeling. But, if it's my last option, then I will do what I must.”

“Fair enough, dear. But where do I fit into this grand scheme of yours?”

“I took the spell from one of your books. I need to know the effects, if there is a curse attached, if I can break it if needed. I only mean to distract the King, not to become his bride next.”

“I don’t know, the King is at least easy on the eyes…”

“Please, don’t even suggest it. I was completely against this whole arrangement, but I have found a kindred spirit in Samuel. I’m sure part of my father’s intention was to have me tortured by this marriage, but really, he only did me a favor.”

“Don’t say that too loudly, you know that son of mine is always lurking. Knowing he did you a service, he may just snatch it right back from you.”

“I know, and it's why I hope I can trust you with this.” You paused and took Rowena’s hand, hoping that you could appeal to the side of her that felt fondness for you, and hatred for her son. “He’s your son… my father. We should be rooting for him, but at what cost? Look at what he’s already taken from both of us. You’re at his beck and call, and he had me marry his enemies, knowing they wanted me to burn solely for having the same blood run through my veins.”

Rowena seemed to be studying you, but you ignored her scrutiny. She stood quiet, contemplating the circumstances, then finally nodded. “You’re not wrong, my dear. My son is, to say the least, a vengeful little man. He’ll take any chance he can to destroy your happiness.”

“I know, that’s why I need to be proactive. So can you… will you, keep this to yourself?”

“Can I keep your motivations quiet? Yes, of course. But I cannot and will not help you with whatever plan you are conjuring. At some point, you have to be your own witch, dear. Can’t rely on dear old Rowena for everything.”

You thought you heard her wrong, but when she took a step back and made a demur shrug with her expression, you knew you hadn’t.

“I’m your granddaughter, and you refuse to help me? We’re family!”

“Oh, sweet child, what does family really mean? Because we share blood? One thing I’ve learned in this big, rotten world is that it means absolutely nothin’. Family is what you make it. Our bloodlines are poisonous, why do you think I sold Fergus off as a child? He was a rotten little twat. I needed to escape, or be put to death.”

Shaking your head slowly in disbelief, you turned back towards the altar. You could feel anger begin to boil under the surface, and for the first time in your life, felt the same hatred towards Rowena that you carried for your father. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N. But, I have to look out for myself. Think maybe it’s best if I disappear for a while. Go explore the world a bit. I do wish you luck,” she paused and gave a little smirk when she looked over your altar again. “Seems as if you know what you’re doin’.”

Before you could respond, Rowena mumbled a few words, and was gone. All that she left behind was a swirling mist of violet smoke, and her words ringing in your ears. 

‘...what does family really mean? Because we share blood? One thing I’ve learned in this big, rotten world is that it means absolutely nothing. Family is what you make it.’

“That’s probably the best thing you’ve ever taught me, grandmother.”

You emerged from the Elven Woods just as the sun was reaching late afternoon. Despite its brilliance, you were left with a chill that ran through your bones. A feeling of certain dread that loomed on the horizon. Stepping across the threshold into the gardens, you took a moment to breathe, and lifted your face towards the warmth of the sun. Losing track of time, you weren’t sure how long you stood that way, just clearing your mind and letting its light wash over the darkness you felt in your gut. 

“Y/N? My Lady… are you alright?”

The older, gravely voice of the Winchester’s Maester brought you out of your unintended meditation. When you lowered your eyes, blinking away the bright spots behind them, you saw Bobby standing there, looking concerned and a bit puzzled. 

“Bobby… yes, I’m... “ you tried to say the word fine, but it wouldn’t seem to work. “...breathing.”

“Need a moment, did ya?” Bobby replied, slowly closing the distance left between you. “You look a bit pale, feeling alright?”

“Yes… well… no. But it’s not an ailment I’m afraid. No herbs or teas to fix this ache.”

“And what kinda ache is that, may I ask?” His tone had shifted from curious to suspicious.

You knew he was a trusted part of Samuel’s family; you had experienced that first hand when he allowed you use of his apothecary. But could you trust him with conspiring against his King in the manner of which you were considering?

“Revelation,” you said, and sighed softly. “Maester Singer… I know Samuel trusts you, so I am hoping I can as well.”

Bobby considered it for a moment, and nodded. “You can, long as you aren’t looking to hurt my boy.”

“Never. I have grown quite fond of Samuel, and hurting him is something I would never consider. Not anymore.”

“Glad to know we’re on the same page here. So, spill, what’s got you lookin’ like you just walked over your own grave?”

“Revelations… things I’ve heard. An unspeakable betrayal from those I thought were my family.”

“Well, considering who your dad is, can’t really say you should be surprised.”

“Not just him, Rowena, too. I asked her for help, and she threw me to the wolves.”

“Again--”

“Yes, I understand,” you interrupted and flashed him a look of annoyance.

“Alright, so if they can’t help ya, maybe I can. What is it exactly you need help with?”

“I need answers… I need to know if these things are true.”

“You can ask me. If I know, I’ll give ya an honest answer.”

Taking a moment to think before answering, you passed him a demur smile, and took a few steps around him, before turning back to face him. “I want too, Bobby. I do. But I fear asking puts you in a precarious position. I don’t want to do that to you. Samuel adores you, and frankly, I adore him. So, no, I cannot ask you.”

“Fair enough,” he replied, his brow furrowed in thought. “I may know someone who could help. A friend of mine is back in town. She’s been known to see what us mere mortals can’t.”

“Is she a Dreamwalker?” you asked, a burst of excitement creeping into your tone, despite your sense of being overwhelmed.

“No. But, she’s the best damned psychic I’ve ever known. People around here know her best as ‘The Oracle’. She travels ‘round helpin’ folks however she can. If you need answers, I am pretty sure she can get them for ya.”

“You would do that? For me?”

“You’re family, ain’t ya?”

For the first time in a while that day, you smiled a genuine smile. “Yes, I am. So, where do we find this friend of yours?”

The journey to find the Maester’s friend didn’t take nearly as long as you thought it would. You didn’t want to be gone too long, or Sam may question where you went. Telling him your plans without all the answers felt dangerous somehow, but taking too long to divulge your thoughts could be just as dangerous. Rowena wasn’t exactly trustworthy, and who knew what she was liable to do with what you’ve already told her. Her agreement to keep it to herself didn’t exactly instill a sense of confidence in you.

Bobby seemed to sense your urgency, and had the horse drawn cart rumbling down the old dirt lane. But once he hit an offbeat path, overgrown with wildflowers and ferns, he eased up on the reins. 

“Almost there, Y/N. When we get there, I’ll make the introductions, but then I’ll wait outside. Been thinkin’ on what you said before, about not wanting to put me in the middle, and I do appreciate that. I may not always agree with John, but I did pledge my loyalty to his family. Sam and Dean, they’re just as much my boys as they are John’s. Hell, sometimes I think even more.”

He paused, and gave a quick glance your way. When you didn’t respond, he looked back towards the path ahead. “I’d give my life to protect both those boys. That includes protection from John, not that it would come to that. I know he’s rough around the edges, but--”

“But, he’s their father. I understand that, Bobby. Trust me, the last thing I want to do is destroy Samuel’s father. Despite their troubles, I couldn’t do that to my husband.”

“I’m glad to hear that. I can see that you are on his side, Y/N. It's why I’m helpin’ ya. I know John’s up to something, and my place in his court puts me at odds with how to handle it. So, if you need some answers, the least I can do is help you get to them.”

As Bobby guided the carriage round a bend in the path, you felt a surge of energy before the small house even came into view. When you saw it, you knew that was where he was taking you. You were so transfixed on the house, you barely noticed Bobby slowing down and calling the horse to a halt. It wasn’t until he set the reins around the hook and climbed down, did you realize that you were completely stopped.

You carefully stepped down, and waited for Bobby to join you before taking the short walk to the old, wooden door. Enamored by the energy pulsating from the house, you were both excited and nervous to step inside. 

Looking to Bobby, and swallowing thickly, you raised your brows and sighed, “Here goes nothing.”

The door opened before Bobby could knock. A tall, dark haired woman, dressed in a simple black dress with a plunging neckline stood before you. Her eyes were clouded white, but her smile beamed from ear to ear. 

“Bobby, I always love when you drop by,” she greeted and reached out for the Maester’s hand to pull him into a hug. 

“Pamela, beautiful as always.” He hugged her briefly and stood to the side. “This is Lady Y/N. She’s--”

“The wife of Lord Samuel. Oh, I know who she is. C’mon Bobby, I may be blind, the whole psychic helps with that,” Pamela laughed, and patted his shoulder before turning to you. “Now, let me get a look at you.”

Pamela reached out for your hand, and when you gently placed yours in it, she guided you inside.

“Alright ladies, I’ll be out here guarding Old Gus if ya need me.”

“Not joining us today, Bobby?” Pamela asked, slightly disappointed. 

“Not today. Today, Y/N needs some answers and whatever revelations she receives, are for her ears only.”

“I see,” she said, and turned her attention back to you. “Well then, Lady Winchester, let’s see what the spirits have to tell you.”

Pamela closed the door slowly behind you as you stepped further into her home, you drew in a deep breath of mixed herbs, candles, and sage. It was comforting and yet rejuvenated your energy, just as the old Oak did in the Elven Woods. 

“Please, have a seat.” Pamela motioned towards an worn, but cozy looking wooden chair, lined with plush red velvet. As she took her place directly at the round table, you slipped into the chair directly across from her and placed your palms flat on the table. 

“The energy in this place is inexplicably strong,” you mused, taking in more of the room. Candles were lit all around, some on table tops, some sitting atop tall iron candle holders. Over the table hung an iron chandelier, with more candles lazily flickering in a light breeze; yet you noticed no open windows. In the center of the small, round table, stood an iridescent purple crystal set in a sterling silver bowl filled with water. Admiring your surroundings, you settled into your seat with a sense of peace.

Pamela reached her hands towards the middle, palm up. You placed yours in hers once again, and could immediately feel the vibrations coming through her. When you looked up at her, meeting her clouded white eyes, a slight smile appeared on her face. 

“You’re a very powerful witch,” she said, then wrapped her fingers a bit tighter. “Taught, yes, but also born with the gift of magic.”

“My grandmother, Rowena. She’s a well known witch also born with innate magic. I suppose it comes from her.”

“I know of Rowena MacLeod. She’s… something alright. But your magic comes from a white witch. Your mother I believe.” She grew quiet, tuning in on your frequency, then nodded in confirmation. “Yes, your mother was a white witch. She’s passed, yes?”

“Y-Yes… I never knew my mother,” you replied softly, a twisted feeling bubbling in your gut. 

“Okay, close your eyes, Y/N. Focus your mind’s eye towards the crystal in the middle of the table.”

You did as told and waited for Pamela to begin. You could hear her breathing begin to slow, and nearly feel the rush of air she exhaled through her nose. 

“Amate spiritus obscure, te quaerimus, te oramus, nobiscum colloquere, aput nos circita. Amate spiritus obscure, te quaerimus, te oramus, nobiscum colloquere, aput nos circita."

Pamela repeated the chant a few more times, her will stronger each time. After the final pass, you opened your eyes and felt a cool air blew through the room, flickering the candles and casting erratic shadows to dance on the walls. 

“I call upon you, spirit, show yourself. I call upon you, spirit, show yourself!”

From beyond Pamela’s shoulder, a pale blue mist began to swirl slowly, eventually taking the loose shape of a woman. It floated towards Pamela, and seemed to ensconce her with its light. 

“Yes, I can hear you,” Pamela replied to a silent question. “Your name… to whom am I speaking…” She paused, awaiting a response. It felt as if time stretched on, but only a mere few seconds truly had. “Emmeline, yes, I understand. I give you permission.”

Though she had no external sight, Pamela’s gaze met yours for a moment, before she closed them tightly. When they opened again, gone were the clouded white orbs, and replaced by bright hazel eyes. You gasped at the change, then stared into them as if you knew them somehow. 

“Y/N,” Pamela spoke, but it was no longer her raspy tone; this voice was soft and gentle., “My daughter… you’ve grown up so beautiful.”

The whole change that unfolded before you, left you breathless. You reacted without thinking and tried to pull your hands away, but the spirit inhabiting Pamela’s body wouldn’t let go.

“Y/N, please....” the voice pleaded, “stay.”

You allowed her to hold your hands, and tried to think of what to say. But for all your questions, not only about her, but about how to handle the King, went out the window. All your mind could decipher was that despite all your magical knowledge and understanding, you were sitting and communicating with the spirit of your deceased mother. 

“How,” you whispered, “how is this possible? How do I know…”

“My sweet girl, you were born during a Harvest Moon, and I loved you from the moment I saw your face. Despite how you came to be…”

Recoiling slightly, you slowly shook your head. “I--I… I don’t know what that means. I have so many questions…”

“I don’t have long. Breaking through the veil isn’t easy, so I will try to answer what I can for you, child.”

Suddenly, everything you had come there seeking in the first place went out the window. Your blank mind began to grasp at the information you needed, but all you could think was that you were sitting across from a woman you longed to know your whole life. 

“I don’t know where to begin. My father would never speak of you. Grandmother, either. They would ignore me, or change the subject. Why? Why wouldn’t they tell me about you?”

The spirit didn’t reply. Instead she let go of your hand and raised Pamela’s fingers to rest upon the center of your forehead. Instantly you were hit with a surge of energy that felt like lightning racing through your body. Gasping for air, your vision went dark, and a series of images played out in your mind’s eye. Fragments of your mother’s memories poured into your knowing as the pictures flashed before you. 

Seeing her in her natural state was breathtaking. Emmeline had been a uniquely beautiful woman; her hair the color of spun gold, deep dimples--much like Samuel’s--when she smiled. You could see some resemblances of yourself in her, and it helped to settle the feeling of uncertainty you had rising in your gut. Seeing your mother, in her own body, practicing witchcraft at her own altar… the room filling with black smoke and taking over her body… Crowley entering the chambers and having his goons smash her altar to bits. 

Another flash… Crowley and her mother, now possessed by one of his minions, in bed together laughing maniacally at the despicable things they did and were planning to do. Another… her mother’s body, very pregnant, still possessed, but now she could hear her mother’s consciousness screaming to be let free, for the demon to leave her and her child alone. 

The images were coming faster now - death and destruction following Crowley and Emmeline’s body while she was carrying you inside her. Emmeline’s body on a dungeon floor, her eyes completely black and laughing as she gave birth to you. Then finally, one last image… this one was slow and lingered behind your eyes, as you watched the black smoke clear Emmeline’s mouth. Her body crumpled to the floor, but she was still alive and breathing slowly as she looked up to see Crowley holding a tiny bundle in his arms. 

 “Well done,” Crowley cooed to the heap of a woman on the floor as he stared down as his newly born child. “I promise, your efforts will not go unrewarded.”

“You can’t...take.. her,” Emmeline managed to squeak out. She pulled herself up to her feet, wincing in great pain as she found her footing. “She’s MY DAUGHTER!”

“Sorry, love. She;s mine. But, I can promise you, I will make sure she’s put to good use,” Crowley looked at the baby in his arms and smiled wickedly. “Papa has big plans for you, doesn’t he?”

Emmeline watched in horror as he lifted one of his hands from cradling the baby. Crowley ticked his head to the side and snapped his fingers. Emmeline began to choke, as her mouth began to spill blood down her dirtied and bruised form. 

“Don’t…. Do…. this…..”

“Too late. It’s done.” He watched as Emmeline drowned in her own blood and frowned when she ceased making any noise. Her body fell back to the ground, her once beautiful, vibrant eyes now vacant and cold. “Well, that was anticlimactic, wasn’t, Y/N? That’s okay, daddy still picked a good witch to bring you into this world. Me and you, we are going to do great things together.”

As the vision faded and your eyes readjusted to the somber lighting of Pamela’s cottage, you could feel the sting of fresh tears soaking your flesh. Pamela’s body was sitting back fully in her chair, but you could still see Emmeline’s eyes looking back at you. 

“I’m sorry to have to have showed you that, but you needed to know. Your father is a monster. I tried so hard to break free from that demon’s control, but I was helpless.”

The candles began to flicker before you even felt the icy cold breeze blow through the room. Your breath became visible in the air, and it made Emmeline’s spirit panic. 

“No… I need more time!” she yelled, half in her own voice, and half in Pamela’s. Pamela’s body jerked forward, then back against the chair hard knocking the spirit free from her body. The same swirling blue mist filled the room, ricocheting from the ceiling to the floor, to the corners and back again while Pamela’s chin hung to her chest, her palms still laying flat on the table. 

As quickly as she appeared, Emmeline was gone, leaving you feeling a sense of emptiness and dread. To have come so close to your mother, only to have her taken away again added a vat of fuel to the fire that burned inside you. The fire you would use to burn your father, and his Kingdom, to the ground. 

The temperature began to rise and the candles finally steadied from the whirlwind that just blew around them. Pamela was starting to come to, slowly raising her head until her white eyes met yours. 

Still shaken from the entire experience, her blank stare was starting to unnerve you. “Pamela?”

“I’m okay,” she said softly, her signature rasp still enough for you to know it was really her and not spirit. “That was… intense.” She reached across for your hand again, and though you honored her request, part of you was afraid to touch her again. “Your mother, you spoke with her? She showed you what you came here for?”

“Yes, she showed me…”

Pamela squeezed your hand and closed her eyes. “But not everything--”

Before she could continue, she was interrupted by a knock at the door, and the old wooden beast being slowly pushed open, allowing the day’s fading light to fill the room.

“Hate to interrupt the girl talk,” Bobby spoke up cautiously as she stepped over the threshold, “but are you ladies almost done? Day’s wasting here, and if Y/N doesn’t get back to the castle grounds before dark, I’m going to have some explaining to do to the King himself.”

You nodded in solemn agreement. You had come here for answers, though the ones you received weren’t exactly what you had been seeking. Unsure of how to process what you had learned, you turned to Pamela and smiled wanly. 

“Thank you, Pamela,” you started, and felt the rest of the words catch in your throat. “I--” expelling a deep sigh, you rose from the table and tried again. “I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve given me.”

“But you didn’t get everything you came here for,” she replied, then stood up from her own chair. Pamela walked around the table with great ease for a blind woman, finding you immediately and putting both of her hands on your shoulders. 

Pamela pulled you into a warm embrace and gave you a caring squeeze. Before she completely let go, she allowed her lips to linger near your ear for a brief moment and whispered, “The baby you’re carrying is going to be blessed with great power. It will be up to you to keep him balanced and not let the scales tip in Crowley’s favor.”

Jerking away from her, your eyes snapped up to meet hers as a small smile unfurled on her lips. She gently laid one of her long fingers against her lips. “Shhhh… that baby needs to be your secret, or danger will find him long before he’ll need to pledge his allegiance.”

“Ladies? Everything okay?” Bobby asked from where he still stood in the doorway. 

“Everything’s fine Bobby,” Pamela replied, looking over your shoulder to flash Bobby her signature smile and wink. “She’ll be right along.” When her false eyes looked back on you again, her smile faded. “Keep him safe, and this child will one day sit on the King’s throne.”

“Y/N, I hate to bust this party up, but we really have to go.”

Still in a complete state of disbelief, you turned just enough to see the Maester impatiently waiting for you and nodded. “I’ll be right there.”

He threw up his arms and shrugged, before turning and heading back outside. 

“Y/N,” Pamela said, and turned your chin so you were again focused on her. “I know you have more questions, I know you were seeking truths about the potion, and a plan to use it. Whether you chose to follow through or not, it will not change the outcome of what’s meant to be.”

“And what is that? What IS meant to be?” you pleaded. “And how could I already be pregnant? Samuel and I, we just… it was one--”

“What is meant to be is already in motion. It was put that way the moment you and Samuel came together. Twin flames, though born of different fires, can still come together to create a force of nature.” She paused, and gently rested her hand on your belly. “And this boy, he will be a force of nature.”

Series Tags: @theplaid-wearingmoose / @zombiewerewolfqueen / @silkiechicken / @collette04 / @katiecurls75 / @death-unbecomes-you / @colie87 / @roxytheimmortal / @klanceiscannon14 / @voltage-my2dlove / @flamencodiva / @xhannahbananax03 / @babykalika2001 / @traceyaudette /  @winchester-wifey @pilaxia​ 

Sam Winchester: @buckyscrystalqueen​ / @unabashedsoul97​

SPN (all): @wings-of-a-raven / @negans-wife / @kazosa / @deans-baby-momma / @hobby27 / @breereadsthings / @maddiepants / @sorenmarie87 / @screechingartisancashbailiff / @winchesterxfamilybusiness​ / @unlikelygalaxyiver / @linki-locks11 / @stoneyggirl / @clarinette07 / @lefthologramdeer / @destielhoneybee / @faughnphotography / @katehuntington / @81mysteriouslyme / @mrswhozeewhatsis / @deathofmissjackson / @lauravic / @akshi8278 / @rebelminxy / @idreamofplaid / @fictionalabyss / @blackcherrywhiskey / @his-paradox / @closetspngirl / @sorenmarie87 

[nanawritesstuff]

of peace and devotion (nsfw)| December 28th, MadaSakuWeekend 2019

@madasakuweek​ thank you for organising and motivating us all to write!! I know I’ve been lazy, and this weekend truly stirred the madasaku pot and had me cooking!

prompts, December 28th: yandere au, possessive, "you belong to me" Fandom: Naruto

Pairing: MadaSaku 

Rating: 18+/Explicit 

Word Count: 6947

Summary: Soulmates don’t mean much to Sakura, who’s never fallen in love. After she catches her boyfriend cheating, she wonders if she’s really meant for love. What will she do then, when it quite literally stumbles through her door? | sequel to of war and peace

Warnings/Tags: explicit sexual content, mild language, OOC behaviour, modern au, hints of very soft yandere behaviour...if you squint, cliche, Sakura deserves a soft Madara!! I'm just cold and lonely leave me to my soft things!!

a/n: that was the most cliched summary I’ve written in my life, this is what happens when you watch too many kdramas

In Sakura's world, at this very moment in time–the term soulmates holds very little meaning.

As she steps through the doors to the elevator, grocery bag in hand, her mind recalls the unpleasant events of the previous week. The week itself had started out like every other one; early shifts, her usual patients, nothing too unusual apart from a few bumps here and there that she had no trouble dealing with. And now, on this chilly Tuesday, she gets to be home on Christmas Eve. 

Alone. 

This was the one unexpected bump in her plans. Something she hadn't even thought of, so she couldn't have planned for it–to catch her boyfriend of six months in the break room with his mouth glued to the new nurse's neck. She had stood there, watching them go at it for a whole minute before Ami had spotted her and shrieked. It was only the dawning horror in her eyes as she heard Sasori stammer out his pitifully weak excuses that told Sakura the girl hadn't known about the handsome redheaded doctor's girlfriend: her, Haruno Sakura.

Something Sasori must have been only too happy to take advantage of, she's sure.

That is why Sakura had accepted her tearful apologies with a stiff smile and continued on with her day. Ino, as soon as she found out, dragged her to the cafe, attempting to coax out the tears and curses with cold doughnuts–a reaction that just wouldn't come. That particular bit was reserved for her evening shower. Sakura was sad, yes and quite disappointed with how things turned out. Their relationship, while far from perfect, had been important to her. She had been trying to meet his expectations since before they even started dating but Sasori's nitpicking never ended; his complaints about her working too much had been increasing by the day. He also thought they weren't having enough sex. 

'I guess he went fishing,' she thinks with only a slightly bitter sigh. They were never going to last, and she should have accepted it sooner. But it had been comfortable. It had been safe. And now it's over. All her life, she’s felt as if something’s been missing. As if she’s forgotten something, as if she’s been waiting for something to come back to her.

She realizes she's been standing in front of her door for more than a few minutes, and the sound of a shuffle reaches her ears, drawing her eyes towards it. Eyes the deepest shade of dark ink, brows furrowed in concern and a slender mouth curled into a gentle smile. 

"You've been standing there for about five minutes," he says in lieu of a greeting. She blinks rapidly, shaking off the melancholic energy and smiling back at her neighbour. 

"Itachi-san! I see you've got the evening off." She eyes his sleek jacket, sniffing as the subtle notes of his familiar cologne reach her. The plastic container in his hands looks out of place in the impeccable image he makes. "Off to see Izumi-san?"

"Ah. Our families are finally having dinner together," he divulges with a nervous little smile before holding the box out towards her. "And these are for you. I received the batch yesterday." 

"Gingerbread cookies?" she guesses, her eyes lighting up at once as if she's been handed the one ring to rule them all. "Thank you. Your uncle is an angel."

"Just make sure you actually eat something before opening those bottles," he says sternly, with a pointed look at the wine bottles in her grocery bag. Sakura can't help but laugh nervously and shift the bag out of view in a futile attempt at hiding the contents from view. “And please don’t call him my uncle.” 

"But he is your uncle, isn’t he? Also, don't tell Sasuke? You know he'll nag. And send Naruto." 

"Alright. Only because I know you need space. Just take care and text one of us if you need anything. I'll be crashing at my parents'." He gives her a supportive pat on the back before continuing on, and Sakura adores him for trying. Itachi has been worried about her since she told him about The Break-Up, and he's also the only one who understood her when she said she felt more relief than sorrow. 

"Will do. Good luck, I hope you have a wonderful evening," Sakura calls out after him before unlocking her door. Stepping into the darkened entrance, she fumbles for the light switch as she slips out of her shoes, wrestling with her puffy. Her apartment is completely silent, and it bothers her less than she thought it would. With a silent apology to her worrywart neighbour, she starts looking for the wine opener. 

She does break into the box of cookies first. One of the small traditions she looks forward to every Christmas since she was twelve. The first time she tried these was in 6th grade when Sasuke brought some to class. One bite and she begged her grumpy friend for some every single year. His uncle bakes them for the entire family and ever since he found out how crazy she is about them, he makes sure to send some for her too. 

Two glasses in, she's pleasantly buzzed and curled up in her soft blanket, her laptop open on her lap. The first Harry Potter movie plays on the screen, and it reminds her of Sasori and how he hates the entire series. If he had been here, he would have insisted on watching something she has very little interest in herself. It's alarming how she's finding more pros to ending things with him by the hour, but than can only be a good thing now that he's out of her personal life.

The forty text messages from him are going to stay unread. 

Just as she's contemplating getting another snack before she starts the second movie, the doorbell rings, and at first, she thinks she's imagined it. It's 12:04 on the clock, and if Ino had been planning to drop in at midnight, she would have texted first. It rings again, and Sakura starts to feel uneasy. There's a series of heavy, hurried knocks on the door. 

'Please, please don't be Sasori-'

"Oi, Itachi! It's freezing out here, open the fucking door!" 

And there's the magic word. Itachi doesn't give his address out to people he doesn't trust, and with how familiar this stranger seems to be with him–it's probably not a serial killer. A peek through the peephole shows unruly ebony strands, and with a deep breath, she opens the door just a crack. There is little point in the cautiousness as the stranger stumbles through the door, trembling violently as he nearly runs her over.

"Took you long enough! I really need to take a-" The man pauses as he finally stands up straight, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings, and the girl staring at him in concern. "Uh-you're not Itachi."

"Definitely not," she confirms dryly, crossing her arms over her chest, just tipsy enough to not feel self-conscious about her fuzzy pyjamas and an oversized sweatshirt. She has no idea who he is but Sakura has spent enough time with the Uchiha siblings and their relatives to know one of their clansmen when she sees him. "I'm his neighbour."

"Right, definitely prettier than him. Sorry. Fuck. Oh-sorry about that too," he mutters, a slight flush spreading over the high point of his cheeks. His sheepish tone contrasts greatly with his roguish look. Wild, dark hair that falls to his back. A black leather jacket that does little to hide his well-built form, and unusually deep-set eyes that stay strangely focused on her even as he squirms with discomfort. Her heart races, making her wonder if it's the alcohol or his cologne that's hitting her so hard. "I'm...just gonna go." 

"Itachi's not home," she blurts out. "So, um."

"Oh," he sighs. His shoulders slump and she can't help but sympathize. "My bad. I should've checked." 

"Yeah. Well, if you need to, you know." She points towards the hallway leading to the bathroom, and he blinks in slight confusion before he gets it. 

"Are you sure?" he waits for her nod before he sighs once more, this time with relief, and begins to tug his boots off. "Shit, thanks. I'm really sorry to intrude, I just really need to-"

"Not a problem. It's right down the hallway, first door on the left!" she cuts in with a slight laugh, closing the front door as he hurries off. Just as she thinks to text Itachi, she realises she doesn’t have a name. 

She probably shouldn’t trust a stranger this much, but she reasons that it’s Itachi she trusts, so it should be fine to flop back on the couch and resume her drinking. 

Light footsteps indicate the not-a-complete stranger’s return, and Sakura turns to study him over the back of the couch. He seems calmer now, looking around her apartment curiously before he turns to smile at her. 

“Thanks again. I probably would’ve-if you hadn’t-yeah. Thanks,” he flushes slightly at the sight of her trying and failing to hide a grin before he looks over her head at the coffee table. “Wait-are those Izuna’s cookies?” 

“Itachi’s uncle? Yeah,” she affirms with a dreamy smile, reaching for another treat. He makes a weird face at her words. 

“Yeah. His uncle.” She cocks a brow at his wince. “Right, I’m-his brother. Madara.” 

Sakura can’t quite describe the jolt she feels at his name, and tries to ignore it as she takes the hand he holds out. His palm is warm and dwarfs her own, curling around it gently. Something in her shakes and she wonders if she’s always been so nervous around good-looking men she didn’t grow up with. 

The name is a familiar one though, and she's sure it was Shisui who mentioned it. It explains how young he looks–Madara and Izuna are cousins to Itachi and Sasuke's father, born to a father who married quite late, at least according to the older generation's standards. It had the whole clan in quite a tizzy, according to Shisui. She's also sure she isn't supposed to be privy to clan gossip so she's going to keep her mouth shut.

“I’m Sakura.” 

He smiles at that, his eyes softening in the dim light of her living room. “Of course it is.” 

Her cheeks feel strangely warm and she feels like a fool, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. 'But,' the voice in her head that sounds a little like Ino's soothes her. 'Look at him. He's beautiful.'

"So, that makes you the other uncle." 

"Ugh," he groans before doing an abrupt turn and smirking wickedly. "So that makes you the girl Sasuke wrote that poem for when he was eight?"

"Why do you know about that?" It's more demand than a question, but Sakura really doesn't bring up that long-buried memory unless it's for the specific aim of tormenting Sasuke.

"Who do you think helped him write it?" he taunts, snickering at her startled expression. 

"And to think I'd been so impressed with the big words." Sakura shakes her head with an air of exaggerated disappointment. 

"Well, I'm glad to see I got most of it right," he shrugs, the tips of his ears reddening tellingly. "If it’s any consolation, I'm sure he knows them now...I think."

Her responding laugh is cut off by the sound of the doorbell ringing again, and they both look at each other as if expecting the other to have expected it. Madara shrugs and she moves to the front door, standing up on the tips of her toes to look through the peephole. Really, what's with her home attracting unexpected guests at–

She whirls around in a panic. 

“Everything okay?” he asks quietly as she rushes back, looking like she’s going to throw up. 

“Um, yeah. No. I don’t know. It’s my ex.” 

“An ex you want to see...?” he trails off.

“Absolutely not,” she mutters, pressing the heels of her palm to her eyes. She can feel a headache coming on with the new arrival and honestly, it is so very like Sasori to drop in without asking, expecting her to be okay with him ruining her night. Madara watches her freak out for a few seconds before nodding resolutely. 

“Okay. Leave it to me.” Sakura makes a grab for his arm as he moves towards the door, trying to tug him in the opposite direction.

“What are you doing?” she hisses.

“Well, I owe you one. And I can’t just leave you to deal with an ex you clearly don’t want to see–especially at this time of the night,” he explains easily, trying to tug his arm from her grip. He tries to uncurl her fingers from where they’re digging into his bicep, and she nearly jumps when their hands touch once more. It's only now that she realizes how close they are, and that she's nearly hanging off his arm in an attempt to stop him from opening the door. "Hey, it's okay. I'll take care of it."

He looks back to wink at her before bending over to slide his boots on, and Sakura has to nearly tear her eyes away from the ridiculously appealing sight. He reaches the door and unlocks it deftly, and she's thankful for him looking away, because that was nearly devastating enough to make her forget about why he’s answering her door. 

Then she hears the one voice she absolutely did not want to hear again, at least until she goes back to work tomorrow.

“Saku-you’re not Sakura,” she hears Sasori say, and she can imagine his disgruntled expression with perfect ease.

“Definitely not,” Madara says in an echo of her own words, and she can’t help the subtle smile that stretches across her mouth. “Can I help you?”

“Who are you?” 

“None of your business.” 

“It is if you’re at my girlfriend’s house at this time of the night.” 

At that Sakura steps up next to Madara, crossing her arms in annoyance and trying not to blush when Madara slides his arm around her. He keeps his hand on the curve of her waist, his touch gentle and loose, but mostly reassuring. It also serves to annoy Sasori greatly, who looks like he can't quite believe what he's seeing. 

“Ex-girlfriend. What do you want?” she snaps. She's sure he didn't leave anything at her place.

“Sakura, who is this?” 

“Like he said, it’s none of your business.” She shivers a little and Madara tugs her closer, moving his hand to rub it over her arm in quick, light movements. She's a little amazed at how warm he is and quite upset that she has to stand in the cold because Sasori can't speak quickly enough.

"Um, well, I was just at a party at Hidan's." Who happens to live nearby. "And I was just...wondering if I could crash here. I thought we could talk." 

For a long moment, Sakura can't quite bring herself to say anything. Not because she's considering saying yes–but because the nerve of this man has, not for the first time, left her speechless. 

"Sasori, we-"

"I know, I know," he grumbles. He then shrugs and grins in a way she had once thought was charming, leaning in slightly. "Your place was just closer than mine-"

"And no longer accessible," Madara cuts in. "Goodnight." He tries to move them back so he can close the door, but Sasori interrupts the motion with a hand on the door. 

"I'll take the couch!" Sasori pushes back against the door. "Sakura, babe, we've-"

"Alright," Madara steps out the door instead, forcing Sasori to take a few steps back. "Why don't have a little talk?" He turns to a confused looking Sakura, gesturing for her to go inside. "I'll be right in, sweetheart. Don't worry." He doesn't wait for her to reply, closing the door before she can say anything. Sakura stands with her ear pressed to the wood for over a minute, but doesn't hear a thing. She goes back to the couch, trying to figure out if this was really okay, but Madara comes back in before she can come to an actual conclusion. 

"Well, he's a prick."

"I realize that now," she says, looking him over for any signs of damage. "Sorry, did he give you any trouble?"

"Nothing I couldn't handle. And you don't need to thank me either," he adds before she can even begin to come up with a way to express her gratitude. She also realizes that they're both alone once again, and despite how nice he seems, Madara is still a stranger. He looks a bit awkward, looking as if he doesn't know what to do with himself, or his hands which clench and unclench before he shoves them into the pockets of his jacket.

"Um, I should probably wait a few minutes before leaving...did Itachi say what time he'd be back?" 

"He said he's going to stay at his parents' tonight," Sakura tells him, wincing at his dismayed expression. "He hasn't given you a spare key?" 

"Shisui 'borrowed' it." 

"I'm so sorry." She thinks it's a little funny, but works to keep her face sympathetic; Shisui would be extremely amused by the current events.

"That's alright. I think I've intruded enough, so I should probably go."  

"Where do you live?" she asks, forehead wrinkled up at the thought of him having to make his way home in this weather. Sasori lives about ten minutes away–which is why she hadn’t been worried about him, she tells her guilty conscious. 

"...Senju apartments." 

"Fancy. Also on the other side of town," Sakura states flatly. "Did you drive here?"

"Ah."

"In a car?"

"...Bike."

"Right. Look," she begins, unable to actually believe she's doing this. "Just crash here tonight. I'll let Itachi know."

He looks taken aback at her suggestion, and shifts uncomfortably. "I wouldn't want to-"

"It's alright. I'm not comfortable with sending you off into the night," she reasons. "Plus, Itachi and Sasuke are practically family. That makes you...distant family. Sort of. Just-you're welcome to stay if you're comfortable with it."

Madara, who had begun to flush, looks extremely amused by the time she finishes. "Distant family."

"I said, sort of!" 

"Hah. Well," he rubs at the back of his head hesitantly. "I guess. You're really okay with it?"

"Really okay with it. One hundred per cent." She waits for him to take his shoes off before herding him towards the couch. "You sleepy?"

"Not really," he admits sheepishly, taking a seat, sitting a little too properly for this time of the night. 

"Great. You like Harry Potter?"

"Yeah."

"Wine?" 

"Yes," he laughs, accepting the clean glass she brings him.  

"Even better. It’s been ages since I had a sleepover. I'll bring more snacks."

The mildly awkward atmosphere dissolves quickly as they begin watching the movie, and Sakura's pleased to see her new companion loosen up and put his feet up on the coffee table. In an unexpected turn of events, she's found a new companion who's up for binge-watching the entire series, which is a little too ambitious for someone who has to work the next day. They open a new bottle as they express their mutual disappointment at the wasted potential of Tom Riddle, discuss their own Hogwarts house placements and the first time they read the books–before starting the third movie. 

Sakura groans as the light hits her face, turning it to bury her head further into her pillow. 

Her pillow, which seems unusually warm and smells like cedarwood. It's only when it shifts under her that her eyes fly open, and in her haste to spring back she tumbles off the bed. 

"Ow-" She rubs her backside in slight disgruntlement, glancing up at Madara only to see him yawning widely as he stretches like a contented cat; he smiles softly as he notices her staring. She can't quite get her brain to process what she's seeing–tan skin stretching over long, firm planes of muscle. His wild hair spills over her pillows and she's hit with a memory of nuzzling it, of knowing what it smells like. 

"Morning," he mumbles groggily, looking like he's ready to doze off again. 

'Ah, fuck.' 

"Morning," she replies in a tone a touch too shrill, jumping up when he just blinks at her. "We...uh..."

At her panicked expression, he seems to step out the doors of slumber completely, his cheeks reddening as he realizes she's struggling with their current state of undress. "Yeah. Uh, sorry?

"D-don't apologize," she says, trying to reassure him with a weak smile. "So! Breakfast?" 

"Sakura." He sits up, the sheets pooling at his waist and she looks away before she sees more than she can handle. The plain black sweatshirt that was snug on him falls to her thighs when she stands up, and she sees the way his eyes fall to the bare expanse of her legs before he forces them back to her face. "I-I'll take care of that. You okay with scrambled eggs? Tea? Coffee?"

"Um-yeah. Here I'll just..." She looks around the room, spotting his pants by the door. She can't help the way she tugs at the hem of his sweatshirt as she bends her knees, grabbing the jeans. "Here. And–coffee. What can I do to help?"

"You need to be at work by ten, right? You can go get ready, we've got time." It's 8:30 on the clock, but how does he know what time she needs to be at the hospital? Her baffled look must tip him off because he shakes his head in mock seriousness as he washes his hands. "You don't remember that conversation, huh?"

"I'm sure it'll come to me," she sighs. "Alright I'll...go shower." She misses his distracted nod in her haste to retreat to the bathroom, his eyes struggling to focus as she leaves him to his thoughts.

It all does, eventually, come back to her while she's in the shower. She’s grateful for the privacy because she’s convinced Madara would think her a lunatic if he saw her smiling so hard.

(flashback, nsfw content ahead)

"Madara?" she asks, lifting her head off his shoulder so she could look at him. They sit side by side, watching the credits scroll past as they contemplate moving. Sakura’s cuddled into his side, unable to muster the will to move away from his warmth.  

"Hm?"

"Have we met before?" The question has been on her mind since she first saw him earlier. He seems so familiar, but she’s unsure if it’s just because of his features, which do remind her of Itachi.

Her question is met with a slow blink as they both sit up a little straighter. "Could have. At birthday parties, maybe?" 

She purses her lips at the thought, trying to recall any interactions that might have taken place in the past. Madara watches her for a moment, as she chews on her bottom lip, before tapping her chin to interrupt the rough treatment of her mouth. She’s struck by the urge to flick her tongue against the pad of his thumb, and the thought has her squirming in embarrassment. He looks completely serious, while she’s over here thirsting. 

"Would you believe me if I said...I feel like I've been looking for you?" he asks hesitantly, flushing deeply when she looks amused. "Ugh, that sounds way cornier than it was intended to. I'm serious!" 

She sobers up at his firm tone, studying his features in the dim light of the lamp. She smooths his bangs away from his eyes, feeling slightly overwhelmed when he takes the hand tucking his hair behind his ear in his own, lacing his fingers with hers. 

"...I think I would," she whispers, mirroring his own tiny smile. "Then, would you believe me if I said I feel like I've been waiting for you?" She's only half-teasing. She feels at home, sitting next to him, arguing with him over fictional characters and concepts, watching him tap his feet to background music, eating cookies they're both shamelessly obsessed with. 

Her heart feels warm and full when he kisses the back of her hand.

"I think I would," he says, his smiling turning embarrassed and shy and so soft that she can't help but lean in and press her lips to it, her heart pounding madly when he melts into it, into her. He groans low when she climbs into his lap, tilting his head to deepen the meeting of their mouths. 

Desire drips into a pool at the bottom of her spine, where his hands splays and glides up to rest at the nape of her neck, tangling in messy, rosy strands. They kiss, and they kiss until her lips feel numb and her mind is muted for the first time in what feels like ages. 

The first grind of her hips against his feels electric and the helpless way he bucks his hips up is something she wants to see repeated. He clutches her to him, peppering hot kisses down the slender slope of her neck and she knows what she wants. "Be-bedroom."

He stills, tilting his head back until the tip of his nose brushes hers. His eyes are reminiscent of hot pools of obsidian, and she thinks she would be okay with drowning in them. "Are you sure?" 

"I want this." His mouth perks up even as he presses it to her jaw, winding her legs around his waist as he rises from the sofa with her holding on. Long fingers dig into the plump flesh of her rear, keeping her close and whimpering. 

"Wait. Are you sure?" 

His responding chuckle is edged with roughness, but not a straight enough answer. Once again, he manages to steal her breath before it can form words, sliding her lower against his body until she can feel him pressing into her, hard and straining. 

"Oh. Okay," she gasps, pushing back into it until he stumbles with a curse, pressing her back into her bedroom door as he kisses her deeply, sucking her bottom lip into his mouth.

"Keep that up and we'll never get to the bed," he groans, grinding into her urgently as she nibbles on the shell of his ear.

"That's fine, just-fuck." She loses her train of thought when his hands squeeze her ass warningly. 

"I'm not fucking you against a door," he says firmly, cutting her off with a quick kiss when she tries to protest. "Not the first time." 

And so he fumbles with the door handle as his teeth dig into her skin, stumbling in blindly. He tosses her on the bed, reaching for the collar of his sweatshirt and sliding it off swiftly. Her mouth waters at this unveiling of his chiselled form, torn between reaching out to run her greedy fingers over it and reaching for her own clothes. He makes the decision for her by sliding his fingers underneath the hem of her shirt, tugging it up and over her head. Warmth flushes down from her cheeks to her chest when she realizes she had forgone a bra earlier, leaving the upper half of her body exposed to his burning gaze. 

The moment his chest presses into hers, warm desire spreads down to the tips of her toes. It sinks into her bones as he kisses her temple, her cheeks, her lips. He carves a fervent path down her neck, teeth and tongue leaving hints of their efforts behind in blooming marks. The first curl of his tongue around a taut nipple has her gasping loudly, her fingers tangling in his hair as he splits his attention between her breasts. 

His journey around her body continues with kisses down the soft planes of her abdomen until he reaches her waistline. Her heart pounds madly as she lifts her hips, allowing him to tug her pyjamas down her legs, followed by her underwear. It leaves her squirming beneath his gaze until he bends over her to press his lips to hers. 

"You're so beautiful, darling," he groans, his hands gliding down her waist and back up. "Can I taste you?" He waits for her slow nod, smiling as he climbs back down, spreading her legs until he's found himself a spot between them. Sakura, who waits breathlessly for that first contact, nearly yelps when she feels his teeth sink into the tender flesh of her inner thigh instead. He soothes the spot with his tongue, and just as she settles down with the comforting motion she feels a languid lick along her slick sex that steals any capacity for thought still present in her head. 

Lifting up on her elbows proves to be disastrous for her heart: he locks eyes with her as he licks fervidly into her, his eyes crinkling and lips twisting wickedly. 

Sakura thinks she might have invited the devil into her bed. 

He doesn't let her move until she's dripping with her desire, pushed to the brink of madness and digging her heels into his shoulders. He's unfazed by her pleading, coaxing and tonguing but never letting her tip over. 

"Madara, Mad-fuck, please, please," she whimpers, one hand clenched around her sheets and the other smacking into the headboard. 

"You need to tell me what you want, babygirl," he laughs, drawing slow, torturous circles around her clit. 

"Fuck me, fuck me, please." She's practically begging but she needs this. She thinks she might actually wither away if he doesn't let her come. She feels him move, blinking her tears away so she can watch him slide his pants off and reach for his wallet. She's never felt more focused as she watches him tug the boxer-briefs down, freeing his straining erection and leaving her swallowing with one motion. 

Sitting up, she reaches for him as he tears the foil square open carefully, but he stops her with a hand curling around her wrist. He brings her hand up to this mouth, kissing the back of it and urging her back down. "Later." 

Any arguments she might have had are ripped away when she feels him at her entrance, rubbing the tip of his head against her slickness. When he pushes through her slit, tearing a moan from the depths of her throat, he kisses the corner of her mouth softly. She's convinced no one has ever felt this good, and no one ever will.

He's watching her, she realizes belatedly. She reaches up to cup his cheek, smiling faintly as he kisses her palm quickly, as he waits for her to adjust around him. 

"Is this okay?" he asks, dropping his forehead to hers, his muscles straining as he keeps himself from moving. She pulls him close, leaving open-mouthed kisses over his tense shoulders. 

"It's perfect." She pushes up, her walls squeezing tight and a startled groan escapes him before he pulls back and snaps his hips into hers–over and over again, aimed to tear her apart and make his mark in the very depths of her until she's shattering to pieces around him and trembling in his arms. He whispers softly, incoherently as he thrusts frantically, and she kisses him through his unravelling. 

She curls into a ball, after, nearly vibrating her contentment when she feels his fingers in her hair, rubbing at her scalp. Madara proves himself to be a cuddler when he moulds himself to her back, burying his face in her hair and inhaling deeply. "Okay, I have a confession." 

She turns around in his arms, raising a brow at his conflicted expression. 

"I...have seen you before." 

"Oh?" she lifts up onto an elbow, watching him struggle with his words. She's filled with curiosity because she's certain she'd never seen Madara before today. He’s not someone she would forget.  

"Yeah. It was at your graduation party a few years back. The one you all had at Fugaku’s place," he tells her, his eyes unfocused as he thinks back to the time. "We didn't actually meet, but that was... I thought you were beautiful even then."

It’s strange to hear him address the older man so casually when he’s closer in age to her than Fugaku, but then they are cousins. 

"Oh." She rests her head in her palm. "Let me guess–and you've been smitten ever since?" She shouldn't tease when he's being so serious, but she's come to really enjoy his blushing responses–a reaction she doesn't get this time. Instead, he meets her eyes steadily, if a bit solemnly. 

"Yeah, pretty much."

"Madara!" She laughs, pinching his cheek, prompting him to smile as well. 

“You don’t believe me.” He sighs, pressing his lips to her forehead.

"Mhm. I'm glad you got the wrong door," she whispers, feeling him smile against her skin. 

"Me too." She sighs and presses her face to his chest, snuggling closer when he winds his arms around her. They’re quiet for a while, and just before she slips into sleep, he speaks up.

"Sakura?" 

"Hm?

"Meeting you like this...being so close to you," he shifts slightly, pressing his lips to her hair. "Right now, I almost feel like...you belong to me." His admission is said so lowly that she nearly misses it. "And I belong to you. Is that strange?"

She smiles drowsily, tilting her head back to kiss him, soft and slow. "No, I think it's lovely." 

"I think you're lovely." She can’t keep her eyes open, drifting into the dark with warmth all around her. “And...I don’t think I want to let you go.”

“...Then don’t.” 

For the first time in a long time, she's smiling as she falls asleep. 

Sakura's still smiling as she steps out of the shower. Wiping her hand over the fogged up mirror, she squints at her reflection. She looks bright, despite a terrible headache, and she feels warm–on the inside and out; her skins nearly burns when she spots the marks over her collarbone and thighs.

Waking up to soft greetings, offers of breakfast and a very pleasant ache between her thighs–it's something new, but it's nice. Madara is nice. 

'And I'm fucked. Literally and figuratively' 

But is she? She may have started him by kissing him, but he more than reciprocated. She's never felt more loved, and that includes actual relationships. Then there were the mind-melting things he said. A bit intense, but they were both more than a little dazed in the aftermath.

She’s a little worried about starting something this soon after ending things with Sasori, but– and she may be speaking too soon, but she never felt this way with Sasori. The redhead had started their relationship, dictated most of it, and she had been okay with it, accepting that she’s not the sort to take charge when it comes to this stuff. 

But with Madara? She feels the sparks of excitement. She wants. So many things. So badly. She should, however, take it slow. A little too late, but she should still try. The man might be more than a little alarmed if he finds out just how into him she already is. 

Her stomach growls loudly as she follows the smell of frying bacon to the kitchen. And there he is, the man in question, arranging food on two plates, her coffee ready on the side. His hair is pulled back into a low ponytail, his pants tight around his waist–and backside–and Sakura nearly swoons at the sight of him.

“Are you real?” she asks, completely serious. 

“Real enough to have burnt the toast a little,” he answers with a sheepish grin. She hands him his sweatshirt apologetically, but he's unfazed as he pulls it on easily. 

She wonders if this is all very normal for him, and the thought stings a little.  

“I like it burnt.” She shrugs and pauses as she reaches the counter. She turns around to see him watching her; with a quick prayer to whoever’s listening and a hand on his shoulder, she rises up on the tips of her toes to plant a quick kiss on his cheek. “Thank you.” 

His fingers curl around her wrist before she can step out of his space, his eyes searching her face before he pulls her close. She should be alarmed by how natural it feels to have his arms around her and his lips coaxing her mouth open. In the light of the morning, he kisses her softly; once more, she’s filled with a yearning that makes her ache. 

In what’s quickly turning into an irritating pattern, her phone rings. A quick glance at the screen assuages her annoyance, but she still has to take a deep breath before answering. 

“Morning, Itachi. Happy Christmas!” 

“Happy Christmas. I just saw your text. Is Madara still there?” 

“Uh, yeah, he is.” 

“Alright. I’m nearly on our floor. See you in a minute.” 

“Wait-“

But he’s hung up already, and she turns to see Madara sipping at what looks like green tea, failing to hide his disappointment.

“I heard.” 

“Yeah,” she sighs, moving towards the entrance, then doubling back and pulling Madara into a quick, hard kiss that leaves him slack-jawed. “Sorry.” 

“Please don’t be,” he murmurs hoarsely, making grabby hands at her as she skips away. Beaming, she opens the door to Itachi’s suspicious eyes and boxes of what she’s sure are his mother’s cooking. 

“Yes, this is for you,” Itachi says before she can ask, moving past her to peer into her apartment. “Ah. There you are.” 

“Morning.” 

“Good morning,” Itachi looks from his uncle to Sakura, as if expecting more. “I’m going to go ahead get it out of the way–did you guys...?” 

“Yes.” 

“N-What!” Sakura squeaks, glaring at Madara when she spots the grin he tries to hide behind his cup. 

“Right. Okay. Well, I’m gonna go get some more sleep. Sakura, have a nice day at work. Madara, let's go. Bring the plate, I’ll return it later.” Itachi doesn’t seem to be asking, and Madara, to her surprise, does as the other man says. They stare at each other for a few seconds, before Itachi raises a brow and turns to leave. A tiny smirk curls along his mouth, and she knows she can expect a call from Shisui within the hour.

The second he’s out Madara’s arms around her and his lips are on hers.

“Have dinner with me,” he asks as soon as he pulls away, his eyes wide with hope. 

“Tonight?” she says, her answer clear when she kisses him again. Madara grins down at her, pulling her in for a hug that leaves her gasping for breath as she laughs.

“I’ll pick you up.”

Bonus: 

“He made you breakfast?” Shisui asks over the phone, for the third time. 

“Yes, Shisui. Honestly, it’s not like he gave me a manicure! Why are you so surprised?” Sakura glances around to ensure there aren't any eavesdroppers as she exits the elevator in the hospital. Ino has the evening shift, so she didn't get a chance to talk to her. She's not sure what she would even say. Her entire day had been a struggle with focus, but she had managed to keep the Madara-related thoughts at bay until the end of her shift.

And then she called the one person who could give her some insight.

“Because! Madara does not make people breakfast. In the rare occasions that he does spend time with them, he exits those occasions as quickly as humanly possible.”

“So he’s...” 

“Not a dick! Not exactly. He’s just had a hard time getting emotionally involved with partners. You’re sure it was him? Not Izuna?” 

“Yes, Shisui, of course, I’m sure!” 

“Okay, okay. Hm. I think...he might like you?” 

“Yeah?” she can't help but smile as she opens the door to her car, flinging her bag inside. 

“Yeah. Weird.” 

“Why is it weird?” 

“You’re going to be Itachi and Sasuke’s aunt-“ 

“Uchiha Shisui! Don’t even put that crap in my head.” It's way too early to even go there.

“Fine, I won’t. But what will you do about the crap in his head?” 

“I’m sure there’s nothing like that! At least, I won’t know until I talk to him. Which won’t be possible until dinner tonight. I also need his number. Which is why I called you.” 

“Ah, right. You were so preoccupied with his mouth that you forgot to even ask for his number?”

Sakura makes a silent vow to punch him the next time she sees him.

 “...I’ll text it to you. Are we telling Itachi you're planning on asking his uncle out?” 

“...not yet.” She's not sure how her friend would react. Itachi has always been a supportive presence in her life, but he didn't actually say anything this morning.  

“It's not like he'll be surprised!” 

“Probably. But let me talk to Madara first!” She gets inside and closes the door, leaning back and closing her eyes tiredly. 

“Fine, fine. If he’s an ass to you, let me know. I’ll...tell Izuna.” 

“I’m hurt. You won’t even kick his ass yourself?” she teases. 

“Not when I know I won’t escape with my limbs unbroken. Your new flame is a scary dude, you know.” 

“Please. Are you forgetting I’ve met the guy? He’s one of the nicest men I’ve ever met.”

“...Madara...nicest...Is-is this what they call a Christmas Miracle?” 

[riversofmars]

December 1st  December 2nd  December 3rd  December 4th  December 5th  December 6th  December 7th  December 8th  December 9th  December 10th  December 11th  December 12th  December 13th  December 14th  December 15th  December 16th  December 17th  December 18th  December 19th  December 20th  December 21st  December 22nd  December 23rd  Christmas Eve

“Okay, this should put things back to normal…“ Sandshoes closed up the generator in the manor house after fixing it. There would be no more statues coming for them. With the help of the Silence, Madame Kovarian had done a wonderful job of manipulating everything in this place to trap them. Fooling a Timelord was no easy thing and fooling fourteen was a great feat. The Doctor decided they would probably not speak of this again to anyone if they ended up remembering anything at all. It would not be helpful if half the galaxy knew they had a particular weakness for Christmas.

“Well, as normal as a Christmas world without actual tourists is… is it still just holograms?“ Bill asked.

“Kovarian closed all the ports and cut off travel to the planet, I’ve reopened everything. Shoppers and tourists should be heading here shortly.“ Bowtie said after enabling the communications network around the planet again.

“So is it over now?“ Donna asked, she was well and truly done with all this.

“I think so… Dumbo Ears is giving Kovarian a lift to her new home… the Silence have sounded a retreat and the statues are back where they belong.“ Eyebrows shrugged, pleased with the all round fix.

“So what now?“ Graham asked, almost confused that the whole thing was over.

“Now we all take a breath.“ Bill suggested, relieved.

“Doctor.“ Clara stepped up to the Doctor who looked around.

“Clara.“ The Doctor smiled, happy to finally have a moment to talk, they hadn’t exactly had a opportunity yet.

“We know each other rather well, don’t we?“ Clara asked crossing her arms in front of her chest. The Doctor raised her eyebrows, she could tell immediately that her friend had something to say.

“What is it?“

“Revenge, Doctor?“ Clara asked, disappointment laced through her voice.

“Clara…“ The Doctor took a deep breath but she was interrupted.

“It’s not like you.“ Clara shook her head in disapproval. “I know what Madame Kovarian did, what she tried to do, but…“

“She has always been the one loose end I was never able to tie up…“ The Doctor held up her hands to interrupt her, hoping to explain before Clara could dig deeper. “It’s always been… personal…“ The Doctor contemplated her words for a moment, trying to work out how to best explain herself. “It’s not just what she did to Amy, Rory and River but… It has determined so much of my life. She has determined so much of it with what she did to River, the indoctrination, her childhood, it can’t be undone. It will always be there, part of who she is and who we are to each other and…“

“You can’t help but wonder, if, through some cruel twist of fate, she is the reason why River fell in love with you.“ Clara realised where she was going. The Doctor remained silent and Clara needed no confirmation. Everything, the story of the Doctor and River Song was based on what Kovarian had done. Clara shook her head slowly. “You’ve had too much time to think, Doctor.“

“Yeah, I guess I have…“ The Doctor chuckled a little. It was true, for a long time she hadn’t been able to shake that nagging feeling in the back of her mind. Some small part of her had always wonder if only through their twisted timelines, only because each of them had foreknowledge of what they would become to each other at their first meetings, had things turned out the way they had. She was about to explain why dealing with Kovarian now finally allowed her to let go of all that but Clara went first:

“And as usual you have jumped to all the wrong conclusions.“ Clara gave her shoulder a smack. “It is obvious, to everyone here, that what you have is so much bigger than anything an insignificant person such as Madame Kovarian could ever take credit for. You’re certainly not in love with each other because of her, but rather in spite of!“ Clara jabbed her finger at her. “Don’t give her this power, to think she’s determined anything in your life when really, you are both so much bigger than that and her.“ The Doctor smiled warmly at Clara’s passionate plea, she had already reached the same conclusion herself. In the many years of River’s absence, with the knowledge that Kovarian was still out there, she had her moments of doubt. But now, having dealt with Kovarian at last and having rescued River, she felt a sense of relief and joy she had never know. She didn’t interrupt Clara to point this out, instead, she allowed her friend to finish: “Kovarian is not worth you compromising your ideals over!“

“Oh Clara, you really do know me so well, don’t you.“ The Doctor sighed.

“I’d like to think so.“ Clara huffed, annoyed at her for having such foolish doubts.

“So really, if you know me so well, you should know there is a difference between the Oncoming Storm, the Lonely God, the Hybrid… and the actual person.“ The Doctor listing some of the imposing aliases with a smirk and on Clara’s face, the realisation that she and everyone else had been fooled, spread like wildfire.

“You lied!“ She exclaimed. “You were just trying to scare her!“

“Nobody messes with me and my family.“ The Doctor looked over to River who was talking to her parents. That’s what River was to her, she was her family, and now that she had her back, she swore she wouldn't let her go ever again.  

“Where did you really send Kovarian? Not some sort of world of eternal darkness then, was it?“ Clara rolled her eyes at her.

“Nah. Stormcage.“ The Doctor answered simply. “My wife knows the warden there, you know.“

“You’re unbelievable.“ Clara rolled her eyes but felt an incredible sense of relief. The Doctor was ready to move on, shaking an semblance of influence Kovarian held over them.

“Unbelievably clever.“ The Doctor grinned. “She’s not going to bother us ever again.“

“How are you doing?“ Amy asked holding on to River’s hand. She hadn’t left her side, as if she needed to make sure she was actually here.

“Okay, considering… It’s still a lot to take in…“ River gave her an apologetic smile, she hadn’t quite recovered from the shock of it all yet.

“At least you know how you get out of the Library now.“ Amy half joked, hoping to lighten the atmosphere.

“I guess.“ River chuckled watching the Doctor who was talking to Clara at the moment. “She’s a clever one, isn’t she.“

“She is the Doctor.“ Amy laughed.

“I guess she is.“ River smiled almost absentmindedly. The Doctor had saved her from the Library after all. “Well, for a start, I need to get out of this, I swear this is all bent from the heat of the electrocution.“ River decided it was time to stop getting out of her own head and she got to her feet, moving around the uncomfortable environmental suit a little.

“Well, I’m sure there will be something in one of our TARDISes.“ The Doctor called over with a wide grin.

“So… where are you going to go now?“ Donna asked the question all of them were thinking.

River looked around at the Doctors, her husbands and her wife. No more syncing diaries required after this, no more meeting out of order, just linear time together. River felt tears welling up in her eyes at the thought of it.

“I’ll be honest, I don’t know where to turn, Christmas has certainly come early.“ River smirked to cover her emotions, avoiding the question for the time being.

“Christmas has come right on time.“ Clara grinned who was incredibly happy for them.

“Well I don’t know about you all but I can smell turkey and I’m starving so…“ Graham’s stomach made a noise for emphasis. “Christmas Dinner anyone?“

“We’re all going to forget about this anyway so what’s a few more hours.“ Bowtie was the first to agree.

“You will, I won’t.“ River smirked looping one arm each around Sandshoes and Eyebrows.

“And neither will we, behave Melody!“ Amy scolded her daughter.

“Oh mother, you’re no fun at all.“ River rolled her eyes at her playfully. “Do I have any volunteers for helping me out of this? I definitely need a change of clothes for dinner.“

“Well if you need help…“ Clara was quick to say and Bill jumped in:

“Yeah just say…“

The Doctors had been too slow off the mark and River smirked:

“Well, this certainly will be a Christmas to remember!“

“River!“ All four Doctors called in outrage at the same time as River let go of Eyebrows and Sandshoes and looped arms with Clara and Bill instead.

“I like it when you get jealous.“ River called over her shoulder as they made their way to the closest TARDIS. “Don’t worry, like I said, there are plenty mistletoes to go around.“

[karasuno-writings]

OHHH maybe do Tsukki with either 21, 53 or 41?? Thank you.

Anon thank you so much for this request!! Sure thing sure thing, specially since I love my salty boy! I will start trying to make scenarios longer just to make them more enjoyable and flowing but this means they will take longer to write so I hope that is fine!! So I chose 21 because I love the trope and all of it really!! So I hope you like this! I went a little too overboard with this maybe like its too long how did I get to this what??? BUT I do love Tsukki so there’s that and I actually liked this way too much!! So enjoy!!

I also have no idea how to do things under the cut or on “read more” so sorry!!

“we’re arguing when the ball drops on new year’s eve, and decide to kiss and shit i don’t think i hate you anymore”

___________________________________

Y/N skipped on their way home, tightening the scarf that covered their neck, they looked around at the people heading to their own homes. It was finally holiday break, which meant Y/N got to spend quality time with their friends and family, and stay-in inside cozy covers with some tea and their favorite movie. Smiling at the thought Y/N hopped on the bus, contempt with what awaited once they arrived.

“We are going to Tokyo with my best friend’s family for new year!” Y/N’s mom cheerfully announced, completely shattering their plans and their cheer as soon as they walked inside the house. That meant that if Akiteru was going, his brother, Kei, was too. Y/N and Kei used to be friends when they were little, that was until he cut them off without a word. A million thoughts raced through their head, but mainly they couldn’t stop thinking about how badly they did not want to see him, Y/N had managed to avoid dinner with his family for such a long time, but it seemed like there was no escaping this time. 

The first few weeks of the break had passed and while Y/N had thoroughly enjoyed themselves and their friends, however they still had to deal with packing for an insufferable trip. Sighing Y/N looked at a picture of them and Kei when they were younger, the two of them used to be so close when all of a sudden he decided he wanted nothing to do with them. Getting the last of their clothes on the backpack they headed downstairs, helping place the luggage in the trunk. Sitting on the back of the van they looked at the falling snowflakes outside the window as it moved forward, leaving their home behind. 

Soon enough they arrived at the rental house, it seemed big enough for everyone so that proved to be a big relief. Opening the door a chilly breeze sent a shiver down Y/N’s spine, hopping off the vehicle they saw a tall figure walking over. A smug smile spread on his features, it had been a long time since they had seen him and he was looking…good, he was taller than they expected and his features were more mature now. However one more glance at his face was enough to remember how he had treated them on the past, they turned around to grab their backpack just before he could catch them staring. 

Kei stepped outside to help his mother’s friends settle in, as he walked in the snow towards the van he stopped for a second, taken aback by the sight of Y/N. He remembered how they used to be close, and why he had cut them off; frankly he had forgotten they would be coming. He studied them for a second, they seemed so different…but in a good way…however, they had not grown much compared to him. 

“Let me help chibi-chan, nice to see you after all these years” He announced as he approached them next to the van, taking the heaviest of the luggage. Y/N turned to look at him for a second, they were not going to let him know that his actions had gotten to them, so with they spoke up politely, “Hello Tsukishima, you too”. He was not expecting such a cold answer from them, he remembered them being a little more…vibrant, which while annoying it was who Y/N was.

He furrowed his brows at their words, Tsukishima did not know what had sparked such behaviour, from the few times he had seen them at school he had the impression that they were kind even after all these years. He found this bothersome so without another word he grabbed all the remaining bags and walked inside the house, after all he had no compromise with them. 

“Akiteru! How have you been? I’m glad to see you again!” Y/N hugged the older Tsukishima, who greeted them in return. 

Who do they think they are? Kei was now sitting on the couch with his headphones on as he stared at Y/N and Akiteru chatting up and preparing dinner in the kitchen. Apparently they had no problem with being friendly to his older brother, their upbeat behavior back in no time. He hated the guts out of them; he knew he was no saint but that did not give them of all people a free pass to act so childlike. He crossed his arms on his chest as he rested his head on the cushions. He did not want to come on this trip on the first place, however he thought that is Y/N was still the same old same old as when they were little, he would not dread this miserable weeks quiet as much. 

He was wrong. Horribly wrong, their presence just annoyed him more; their stupid smile which they refused to show him specifically, their stupid Y/E/C eyes that glistened in front of the fairly lights ,and their stupid personality; which he was about to fall for when they were kids, the reason he decided that keeping his distance from them was the best he could do. 

An internal conflict stirred within him; if they refused to act normal around him that meant there was no way on earth his old feelings would come back, which was good because he did not want to close off to them once more. However, the intelligence aura given off by their attitude and seeing them talk so effortlessly with his brother made him want to see that side of them again. Still, there was no way on earth he was going to do anything about it. So his demeanor remained unfaltering towards their indifference, after all he gave them no reason to be so goddamn rude. 

“Tsukishima, could you help me get the flour on the top shelf, please?” Kei looked up and saw them staring at him, their head poking out of the kitchen frame. He hesitated for a moment, then he saw them smile at him for the first time. It all came back to him.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

“Come on Kei! We are going to be late!” Y/N tugged on the strings of his backpack, urging him to walk faster. Their eyes were big and shiny with pure happiness as they looked at him expectantly, holding the strap of their own colorful pin-covered, looking as awkward as a middle schooler could. Kei sighed and rode his glasses farther up the bridge of his nose. 

“One would figure there would be less energy on someone so tiny” He said with a smug smik, chuckling lightly at their pouting face. They stuck his tongue out at him and giggled. This was all too familiar for young Tsukishima, but still he could not deny that their smile tugged his heart, he did not want to admit this, he wanted nothing to do with feelings anymore.

“And one would figure such long lanky legs would be put to better use!” Y/N said in between giggles, grabbing his hand to urge him again. Their warm skin made his stomach lurch like it had never before. 

“Stop.”That was the moment Tsukki knew he could do this no more; he pulled his hand away and glared at them with a hatred like never before, pure raw disgust. His voice was not raised a bit, but the tone in which he spoke was enough to frighten them. Their smile held no longer, the shine in their eyes was no more as a new feeling wiped over their expression. Y/N swallowed, their heart thumping in their ears. 

“Sorry Tsukishima…I’ll see you after school, yeah?” They said, their voice no louder than a whisper, as their strides became faster and they disappeared out of his sight. He hated this, he hated that it hurt, but he sucked it up; this was better than falling for them after all. 

They did not see him after school that day, or any other as a matter of fact. He had just stopped visiting and denied them every time they tried to reach out. A few months carried out like this, until they stopped trying, never knowing what they did wrong.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Oh

That was it then

Kei felt stupid, he did not want to but it could not be helped. However he knew he had been truly blind at the reason of their harsh behaviour towards him. He would not apologize, it would be way too embarrassing, and while the way he handled the situation was clearly not the ideal one, he was sure the justification for it was logical. 

Sighing he stood up, the most he could do would be being kind to them after all he put them through. Kei entered the kitchen and looked at Y/N, looking expectantly at him once more. He reached over for the flour and handed it to them.

“Thanks” They said and immediately turned to the counter, which held a variety of ingredients, presumably for a cake. He really did not feel like baking, but he didn’t know what else to do to show them that he is not as bad as they remember, so he walked over them, leaning on the currently clean counter. 

“No problem…it’s not your fault you are so small” He said without even looking at them “Need any help?” 

They rolled their eyes at his comment and began mixing the ingredients, the silence started as awkward but gradually became bearable. “Just so you know, I could have easily reach that, I just did not want to…help me with this yeah?”

-.-.-.-.-.

New year’s eve was finally here, Y/N was finishing the last details and getting ready before heading downstairs for dinner. They had decided to make it formal, even though it would all be inside the cozy rental house, so they had to put a little bit more thought than normal in what to wear and how to fix themselves up. Once they were ready they skipped down the stairs, ready to join their family after the hard work they had put into the preparations for tonight. 

Kei looked at them as they headed downstairs. Shit. They looked way too good, and their smile was just as bright as before. He could feel blood rushing to his cheeks so he took some deep breaths to calm down before anyone would notice. Annoying, everything about them was annoying, specially since they have been the slightest more friendly to him after the whole flour ordeal, he had specifically shut himself down to them because of this. He hated everything about it.

Dinner ran smoothly, they were far from him and next to Akiteru so he did not need to chat them up, which he was thankful for. However he hated the way the conversation flowed so easy between them, how he could get glimpses of how they used to be with him before. Y/N on the other hand was wary about Kei’s behaviour on the last few days; from one moment to another he had become…kind, almost sweet, which they had not expected after what he had done a few years ago. Don’t get them wrong, they still hated the guts out of him, but he had become tolerable which was more than they had expected; if only they didn’t think he looked so good after all this time.

Champagne was popping in the living room, the countdown was about to start as music blared on the radio announcing the soon-to be end of this year. Y/N was still giggling with Kei’s older brother, dancing in an off-pace to the music, they looked so happy with him, it was unbearable. Y/N was bouncing on their toes as they came to a halt, clearly enjoying themselves, grabbing Akiteru’s hand to waltz.

That was the last straw, Kei could watch this no more. Swiftly he stood up, when he realized he clearly had not thought this out at all, his mind raced rapidly, planning the next move. Good thing he is a quick thinker, clearing his throat he walked slowly over to Y/N, placing a hand on their shoulder to grab their attention. Y/N stopped on their tracks, looking around to see if their mom needed anything. It would be an understatement to say they were surprised to see that the owner of the hand was no other than Tsukishima Kei. They let go of Akiteru and turned around to face the tall blonde. 

“Care to help with something Chibi?” He said, he hoped they would do most of the talking because he refused to. He knew it had been him who called their attention but he did not have a way with words, at least he knew they did. Y/N nodded and followed him into the now empty kitchen, confusion clear on their features. 

The two of them stood in silence for a while, none of them really knowing what to say. Y/N was hoping the boy would tell them what he needed, but he just deadpan stared at them. “So…you needed me?” Y/N cleared their throat, breaking the unbearable silence.

“Not really” Kei just shrugged, at least he had to be honest about the matter. Y/N felt anger rising once more, how dare him take them away from the precious moments of fun they so dreaded they wouldn’t have, just because. They sighted, “Okay…”, and turned around ready to return to the lively living room. 

A hand wrapped around their arm as they started to walk out. They furrowed their brows and looked back at Kei, whose expression was as serious as ever, but behind his eyes something stirred. Silence.

“That’s it…You think you can just talk to me and pretend everything is like before?” They faced him, he was taller than them but right now they felt more intimidating, almost as if they were looking down at him. He stared at them, his eyes twitching the slightest at their voice but his poise unmoved. 

“You know how much it hurt? How much I tried to find out why? What I had done to deserve that from you” They carried on, knowing there would not be an answer from the blonde boy, which was clearly surprised at their reaction even if he was not explicitly showing so.

Ten. The radio blared from the other room, the countdown had just started.

“You were my best friend…I tried to reach out for months” Their voice was slowly lowering, hurt replacing anger. 

Nine.

“I…I actually liked you you know?” They said, their voice breaking at the end, knowing damn well that this statement would elicit a reaction from him. It did.

Eight.

“I just wanted to know why” They broke, relaxing finally. Kei relaxed his shoulders too, looking at them in the eye. 

Seven. 

“You know chibi? Sometimes I can be as thick as you” He said, swallowing as he took their hands in his, looking at their watery eyes which only looked back at his in confusion at the gesture, uncharacteristically soft for him

Six.

“I would hate me too”. He chuckled lightly, he did not know what else to say. He sucked at this.

Five.

“That does not excuse anything! That does not explain why you left without a word…” While they were still hurting the anger resurfaced once more, they hated his stupid face right this moment…and still they felt butterflies in their stomach as he rested his hands on their arms.

Four.

“It means I like you dumbass” He said, clearly not sure of his words, feeling stranger coming from him. Their breath froze as their eyebrows furrowed, biting their bottom lip they stayed silent, not knowing what to say. 

Three.

The tension in the air was sharp as a knife, both of them staring intently into each other’s eyes, waiting for the other to do something, anything. 

Two. 

Y/N looked at his lips, then back at his golden brown eyes. Maybe everything could go back as it was…no… maybe it could be better…maybe…maybe they didn’t hate him so much anymore.

One.

Y/N acted out of impulse, their hands quickly flying up to his neck and their lips softly clashing on his. Few times had Kei been taken by surprise, this was one of them. His eyes opened wide as he felt the warmth on his lips. For once he did not think, for once he let himself feel. This was new to him, it was scary and kind of annoying, but if he was honest he liked it. His arms wrapped around their torso as he melt into the kiss. The background screaming, streamers and celebrations barely audible for the two of them, as they stepped into the next year in the place they least imagined.

It lasted for a few seconds, but it felt way longer. When they pulled back he stared at their eyes, that familiar shine was back. They knew him so well, and he knew he could trust them, if only the two of them took it slow. 

“Kei, happy new year”  His name on their lips once again felt so familiar. ”You still have to make it up to me”, and as they stuck their tongue out at him it all seemed so obvious. They felt like home. Yes, he could get used to this

“In your dreams chibi-chan”

[cheyj05]

WKM Reflections Part 2

(GUESS WHO FINALLY MADE PART 2) @superyummysandwich

Part 1

Upon leaving the guest room, Eve was faced with the Butler standing outside the door carrying a tray with some weird mixture on it.

 “Ah, good morning,” he said “hope you’ve had a good night’s rest.”. Eve mumbled a thanks, slightly caught off guard from having to socialize this early in the morning.

  “I’ve prepared for you a seltzer with cocaine,” he handed them The Mixture, they only took it out of politeness “best thing for the morning after if you ask me.” he then winked and walked away.

 Eve was going to get rid of it the exact moment they could. They knew for a fact it would be a very bad idea to drink it. Though not because they’d ever drunk anything like it before, nope, not this person, they definitely did not have a roommate in University who told them it would be a great hangover cure or anything like that, nope, they were a responsible adult who made responsible life decisions.

 They didn’t have much time to stew on their Totally Responsible Life Decisions though, as the moment the Butler left Eve noticed Damien was there, seemingly waiting for them. They grinned at the thought of Damien waiting for them and just generally at the thought of Damien.

 Damien turned around once he noticed Eve’s presence and smiled at his old friend. His smile made the District Attorney’s heart flutter against their will. It was annoying that Eve’s normally tight grip on their emotion seems to falter when it comes to him.

   “Ah, there’s our little monster! You really knocked ‘em dead last night. I haven’t seen you go wild like that since our days at university.” he said, referring to the many, many wild parties they both had gone to in Uni. “Good to let the beast out every once in a while, eh, old friend?”. Eve just grinned and nodded, not trusting themself to speak.

  He smiled back, but his facial expression quickly shifted to one of concern, “Then again, I’m-I’m still not exactly sure as to what we’re celebrating here.”. Eve didn’t know either, they had only attended this party because they hadn't seen Mark in almost 2 year now, after he got divorced, and they wanted to make sure he wasn’t dead or anything like that.

  “I mean it’s good to have the gang back together,” he clarified “but...out of the blue like this seems…” he was lost in thought for a moment before remembering Eve was there “Anyway, now is not the time to become conspiratorial. Life is ours to choose, as I always say.” he had brushed the thought away but he still looked tense, like his worries still weighed on him. 

  Eve didn’t know what to say, they weren’t the greatest at comforting people ,or social interaction in general, and now that Damien brought up his concerns Eve was starting to worry too, after all why would Mark invite everyone to a party like this after months of radio silence?

   “I have some work to finish, but I’ll meet you at breakfast. We’ll all catch up soon.” he nodded at them and then quickly walked away.

  Eve distractedly nodded back, now lost in thought themself. As they walked down the winding stairwell, they couldn’t help thinking about the events that lead up to this. Earlier this year, Mark and his wife Celine had gotten divorced. Eve didn’t know the circumstances behind it, they just knew it had been a messy break up. Eve had been pretty sure things weren’t going the greatest, sure. They had just thought the two would work things out. They clearly did not. After the divorce, Mark hadn’t left his home. Eve had figured it was only reasonable that he would be depressed, considering how smitten he had been with her, so they had let him be. But then one month turned to two and they started getting worried. Eve had asked  Damien about what happened but he wouldn’t tell them anything. Something big had clearly happened but Eve didn’t know what. Damien had tried talking to Mark but that clearly wasn’t going well.  Eve had also tried contacting Mark, even trying to go to his house once, but he never responded and once they were outside the gates of The Manor they had felt such horrible dread and terror and decided to just keep trying to call him. They had kept trying to contact him all the way until Mark sent the invitation. Eve had considered this a good sign and decided to attend, even if they didn’t want to go near The House again. But now they were doubting his motives….

   They should probably stop thinking about this, they had reached the end of the stairs and know from personal experience that it’s a bad idea to wander around someone’s house while lost in thought. They’ve broken their nose doing that once..

   Eve had no clue where they were going in this house so they turned right by default. A suit of armor caught their eye. Eve never understood why rich people had suits of armor in their houses, it's not as if they’re planning on wearing them or anything like that, so there was no point! The mental image of Mark in a suit of armor made them snort, Mark would be a terrible knight in shining armor. He’d more likely end up the damsel in distress while Eve and Damien would try to save his ass.

    They were getting lost in thought again, they should probably stop doing that. They decided they should try to find Mark so they can catch up. They turned around and with a strike of lightning something fell at their feet.

  No, not something

  Someone

  Mark

  It was Mark

The same Mark who’d introduced himself to Eve by flirting with them. The same Mark who’d introduced them to Damien. The same Mark who, for the duration of his marriage, would not shut up about the fact that he was married.  The same Mark who could be stupid, arrogent, and petty but still loved his friends deeply.

  That Mark.

 He was on the floor

Why was he on the floor?

 Eve was frozen in place, not truly comprehending what they were seeing. The only thought in their head was “Why?”.

 They only barely lifted their head when the Detective walked in, wearing a bathrobe.

  “Did anybody hear that lightning- OH MY GOD! THERE’S BEEN A MURDER!”. On the word “murder” there was another lightning strike. Neither the Detective’s screaming nor the lightning roused Eve from their stupor.

  They barely acknowledged when the Butler entered  “Excuse me, did you hear light-OH MY GOD MURDER!”. Nor when lightning once again struck on the final word.

  Nor when the Chef entered “Did you-? MUUUURDER!”. More lighting, though it didn’t make a difference to Eve. Eve was barely processing the events around them until the Detective got in their face.

    “What the hell happened here? Who’s in charge around here? Trick question: that guy,” he pointed at Mark’s body while Eve blinked back to reality “And he’s dead now, which makes ME in charge. So you better listen up good, bucko. ‘Case you haven’t been paying attention, there’s been a bit of a...killin’.”. Everyone started looking up expectantly for lighting but none came so the Detective continued “And you’re my prime suspect! So you better get to explaining right quick as to what, where,when and why you happen to be here upon this man’s death!”.

  Eve sputtered, taken aback both by having recently been brought back to reality and the man’s loud and rapid manner of speech. They were trying to defend themself but they were still barely having cohesive thoughts. Luckily, Benjamin came in clutch “ Sir, the body is cold. He’s been dead a while.”.

  “Uh, yes.  I pretty much just got up” they stuttered.

   The Detective chuckled “A likely story! That I happen to believe completely,” Eve let out a slightly confused sigh of relief “All right, you’re off the hook for now, but I’m a detective and-”. 

   “Oh, yeah? Prove you’re a real dick!” The Chef interrupted

  He took his wallet out of his robe’s pocket and shoved it in front of The Chef’s face “Here’s my badge. Asshole.”. He turned his badge towards Eve to show them too but a row of photos unraveled from his wallet. The photos showed The Detective in more or less the same pose next to a different person in every photo, and there were a lot of photos. Eve looked at him questioningly.

   “Ah, Those are my old partners. Don’t ask me about them. Fine! I’ll tell you.”. Eve didn’t ask but okay “Each death more tragic than the last. A few of them even died in ironically hilarious ways,”. Eve shared a look with the Chef, who seemed similarly bemused. “Which made it all the more tragic.”.

  Eve wondered if he was done talking now when he continued. “But hey, you look like you’re up to the task. You’re my new partner.”. Eve vigorously shook their head no. Because they didn’t want to, y’know, die.

   The Detective laughed “That’s what all my old partners used to say. Right before they died.”....Very reassuring.

    “All right. Hand me that fingerprinting kit behind you, partner” he then winked at them. Eve decided they would just file all this away for later, they did have an investigation to get to after all. There was nothing they could do for Mark just standing around, all they could do is figure out who killed him.

     They turned and searched for the kit on the couch behind them. There was nothing. They turned back around to ask him where it was specifically but found the Detective was now fully dressed and holding said fingerprinting kit. That wasn't all, in the time since they had turned around police tape had been set up and the body was covered with a tarp..

       “Thanks, partner.” the Detective said, despite the fact that they hadn’t handed it to him. He then casually tossed it on the floor. Eve decided that instead of filing this away for later they would burn the files and forget this ever happened. They ducked under the police tape as the Detective crouched over the body.

    The Attorney opened their mouth to start asking him about the cause of death, how long Mark’s been dead etcetera, etcetera. (Just because they found the Detective deeply irritating didn’t mean they weren’t willing to work with him, professionalism was more important than any…..personal issues.). But their voice stopped dead in their throat when Damien walked into the room.

   “What the hell happened here?”

   Eve didn’t know how to tell him Mark was dead, they couldn’t form the words. They couldn’t even sign it, as they often did when they couldn’t speak. They were completely speechless.

  “Oh! Mr. Mayor. I’m so sorry. There’s been a murder.” the Butler explained. Thunderclap.

   “A murder?” Damien asked and then jumped at the second thunderclap “Who?”.

    “It’s Mark” the Chef shrugged.

    “I’m afraid he’s telling the truth. Mark’s been...killed.” the Detective said. No thunder there though, strange.

   “Why? Who would do this?”.

    “That’s exactly what me and my new partner here-” the Detective gestured to Eve, who had decided they would just accept this and hope they don’t die by tonight.”-are here to find out.”. 

   “Um,” they all turned to the Butler “Excuse me. I feel like we should call the authorities for them to handle this matter.”

   “Look, buddy, as far as you’re concerned I AM the authorities.” the Detective pulled out his badge again “The fact of the matter is, I believe the killer is right here amongst us in this very house. With that freaky lightning storm outside, none of us would get very far, anyway.”.

   “Also,” Eve added in “the police wouldn’t get here very quickly, the combination of the storm and the police’s general response times means we’d all be sitting ducks for a while. And if the killer really is in here with us, well, they’d have a lot of time to destroy evidence or hurt somebody else.” Eve also didn’t trust the police to investigate their friend’s murder, though they decided not to add that part in. Mark was a famous actor so once the media got a hold of his death, the police would be under a lot of pressure to arrest someone. Pressure leads to false arrests and they didn’t like the idea of someone they knew being falsely accused. The Detective was annoying, yes, but Mark had invited him here along with all of his other friends. That meant he trusted him so Eve trusted him too. 

  The Detective nodded in agreement “So, in the meantime we’re stuck here. But I’m gonna get to the bottom of this. The rest of you, get back to your rooms, hunker down, and pray to God you’re not next to be murdered.” he ordered. Thunder struck again. It actually seemed like a good plan, too bad nobody listened to it.

  “I’ll...I’ll check on our other guests.” the Butler said then walked off. Eve found it odd he had said that seeing as the only guest not present was the Colonel. Hey, where was the Colonel?

 “I’ll get back to cooking. All this death made me hungry” the Chef said, walking to the kitchen.. Well, that was a sentence.

 Damien looked at the Chef leaving then at Eve then at Mark’s body “I…” he looked at a loss as he backed out of the room “I-I need to talk to the Colonel about this.”.

 Eve wanted to say something, anything to comfort their friend, but he had already left the room. They sighed.

   “All right, partner,” Right, Eve had to focus on the investigation. Worry can wait. They crouched next to the Detective. “It’s time to get to work.”.

   “Judging by the temperature of the body that I measured rectally, which is obviously the most accurate way to get the inner body temperature of a corpse. That’s a fact, totally procedure.”. That’s... obviously not true but if Eve freaked out about every odd thing he does and says they’d be there all day.

   “Don’t tell anyone I did it.” Called it. “I am sure Mark was killed around 1:30 last night,”. He suddenly stood up  and pointed accusingly at them “ So what were YOU doing at 1:30 a.m last night?”

   They flashbacked to 1:30 a.m. They were sleeping, they always slept with their eyes open so they could see the time. They told him this.

   “I’m gonna ignore the strange fact that you sleep with your eyes open,”

   “ You have no right to say something’s strange.”

   “But it checks out.”.

   “ It better.” they murmured as they stood up.

  “So, we need to figure out where everyone was and what they were doing around that time or, at the very least, who saw Mark last.” He paused for a moment “You need to get out there. See if you can  piece together the story of what happened last night. I’ll stick around with the body and run more..tests”

   Seemed like a good plan  though they would have done so without the Detective telling them to. They ducked out of the police tape and for a second wondered where to start. Then they heard Damien yelling.

    Well, it seems the investigation has begun.

[lady-of-the-imagines]

Bitten Pt. 1

Summary: Ivy Stark met Peter Parker the day he became Spiderman

Word Count: 1,703

Warnings: None

Part 2

A/N: I think it’d be cool to start a Peter Parker Origin Series since we don’t get to see one with Tom. This is going to be part 1 because otherwise it would be so insanely long 

Midtown High was the best school Ivy had ever been to. No matter how many fancy foreign boarding schools she’d attended, none had ever brought this feeling of belonging. Of course, she’d never say this out loud, it sounded cheesy enough in her head. Full disclosure, the school itself was one of the worst she'd been too, lacking a few educational tools she was now accustomed to. But then again, no other school had given her a friend like MJ.

When she arrived on the first day of freshman year, it wasn’t hard to tell who the loner was. So she took a chance. Ivy sat across from her and ate lunch in silence. The next day, she introduced herself, and asked about her drawing. And they continued on slowly like this until, finally, Ivy managed to convince her to hang out outside of school.

So today, on her first school trip, she stuck to MJ’s side like glue. The rest of the students spoke loudly to one another during the bus ride. They were cackling, throwing things, even screaming; it was almost enough to make her scream. 

“Chill Ivy,” MJ spoke as she read “we’re almost there.”

“Yea, well if I have to keep hearing Eugene and Osborn rave about how their parents are never home, I might just snap. I mean come on it’s just sad, not brag worthy.”

MJ didn’t reply, but Ivy could see the corner of her lip turn up in a slight smirk. Silence fell between them, but Flash and Harry were still bragging, and loudly. She shoved two earbuds in and turned the volume up until the music was all she could hear. 

Ivy could understand why Harry felt the need to boast about his father, after all it was his lab that you were going to visit. His father was a renowned scientist, almost as well known as her own father, hell she'd even met him once or twice. But Flash simply felt the need to remind everyone that he had the ability to throw parties.

When the bus finally pulled to a stop and everyone stepped off, she breathed a sigh of relief. Mr. Harrington was being paid to chaperone this particular trip. Ivy remembered him as the teacher in charge of MJ’s debate team, he’d always seemed nice. Mr. Harrington counted the group to be sure everyone was there, then instructed that they would be waiting for Mr. Osborn to grant everyone access to the building.

Ivy stood to the side with MJ, away from the other kids. They both leaned on the bus and let themselves zone out. The loud noises that erupted from the other students broke her focus and her head snapped toward them instinctively. They were clearly laughing, Flash leading them all. A kid stood across from him, standing awkwardly and avoiding eye contact. The boy beside him seemed to be having an inner conflict with himself, opening his mouth every so often as if to speak before closing it abruptly.

“What’s going on?” She asked MJ.

“I assume Flash being a dick again.”

“Who’re those kids?” MJ looked up toward the group.

“Peter Parker and Ned Leeds, they’re on the debate team.”

“Why is everyone laughing at them?”

The group erupted in laughter once more and She tried harder to listen in. Ivy could vaguely make out the words ‘Penis Parker’. Now that really pissed her off. Without hesitation she moved toward the group, shouldering people on her way. Flash smiled at her and Peter looked up, shocked, before reverting his eyes back to the floor.

“Hey Eve, what’s up?”

“Whatcha doing Eugene?” Ivy asked, standing between him and Peter.

“Just talking to Parker here, wanna join?” He chuckled. 

“No, I’ve got more important things to do.”

She turned to Peter and his friend who stared at her in confusion. Peter didn’t look up until she was standing directly in front of him, and he looked more surprised than ever. Ivy smiled as kindly as she could before speaking.

“Wanna come hang out with us?”

“I-Who’s us?”

“You’ll see, plus I promise we won’t be assholes like Eugene and Osborn.”

She nodded for him to follow and took a few slow steps before he began to move, his friend in tow. A few scowls here and there, the occasional light push, and the other kids got out of their way. They took their place beside MJ who didn’t bother to look up, and Ivy blew Flash a kiss. She turned and held out her hand for Peter to take.

“Hey, I’m Ivette Stark, but you can call me Ivy.”

“Oh my gosh,” his eyes went wide as he took your hand “you’re Tony Stark’s daughter. I - I knew you went to our school but I never thought I’d actually meet you this is so - wow!”

“It’s not a big deal.” She laughed.

“I’m Ned.” His friend announced and shook her hand.

“It’s really great to meet you guys. Excited about the trip?”

“Yea,” Peter nodded “I think it’ll be really cool to see some of Mr. Osborn’s work.”

“Yea he’s a really smart man, it’ll be fun — for people who like science at least.”

She and Peter continued on like this, talking about science and her father’s work until Mr. Henderson announced that Mr. Osborn was ready. Ivy could tell Peter was wonderstruck the moment they stepped through the doors. The building was full of neutral colors, the only things truly drawing the eye being the machines and experiments out for display. The large windows on the high ceilings allowed light to stream in freely. With the white walls and floors, it was like walking into heaven. 

Mr. Osborn stood waiting for them by the front desk, hands clasped firmly together and a wide smile adorning his features. He looked young for his age, and most girls in the group certainly noticed. They hung to his every word, though Ivy was sure that if anyone asked they’d have no clue what he’d been saying.

“I’m very excited to have all of you here today,” He began “especially my son, Harry. I hope you all enjoy your visit here today and that it teaches you something. We’ll be splitting you all into three groups for the day to make it easier on your guides who are standing behind me, ready to take you. Please, enjoy your time.”

With one last smile, this time directed at his son, he turned on his heel and walked off. The class began to split into groups in front of each tour guide. Ivy stuck with MJ and pulled Ned and Peter with them. A few other kids joined their group, and when everyone was accounted for, their guide launched into the speech he’d rehearsed. Ivy paid no attention, after all it wasn’t her first tour. Instead she looked toward the experiments on display. There were a few animals and insects they’d used in testing now sitting in glass cases, resting on white podiums. She was more than a little tempted to wander off and look at them for a while, but the guide began to walk and Peter was kind enough to help keep her with the group.

The guide rambled on about how secure the building was, and how famous the scientists were. MJ was taking the time to read — she’d been on a tour with the Starks before — while Peter and Ned were focused intently. Ivy got bored fast, the only things that managed to catch her eye were the locked doors she'd never been through. She made a mental note to convince her dad to take her inside some time. 

“You alright?” Peter asked.

“Yea,” Ivy reassured him “just bored I guess.”

“I thought you were excited for the trip.” He questioned. 

“Yea, but I thought I’d get some time to walk around and explore, I didn’t think I’d just be taking the tour for the fourth time. Not to sound spoiled or anything, I’m really lucky to have gotten to come here so many times, I just-”

Peter cut her off quickly.

“I don’t think you’re spoiled, I-I think it’s really cool that you wanna explore and stuff. It’s an interesting place.”

She nodded at his words, happy he didn’t think less of her for complaining. An idea began to form in her mind as she looked at him and took a quick glance toward the guide. He was immersed in a conversation with one of the girls in their group about the steps it would take to get an internship. Stepping over to MJ, Ivy whispered her plan in her ear, and moved away when she nodded her understanding.

“Don’t get caught.” She replied.

“Don’t worry, I will.”

She let Ned know what was going on as well, not leaving him much time to question her. Before he could speak Ivy grabbed Peter’s hand and pulled him in the opposite direction. They walked casually but quickly down the hallway, careful not to draw the attention any others walking around. When they made it to the display section she headed directly for the case of frogs she’d initially seen. She stood in silence with Peter as they stared, the silence broken when he cleared his throat. She looked toward him, concerned, as his face was a bright red.

“Are you okay?” 

“I…well our hands…never mind. The frogs are really cool, what does it say about them?”

The displays were a hundred times more fun than the tour. They looked in on all the creatures Osborn had collected and read about what testing had been done on them. The effects were not visible, but they’d been described in great detail on plaques beside each display. They stood, staring at a case of spiders, and Peter spoke in length about all the things he believed the spider could be used for. After a bit though even the displays lost their appeal. Ivy knew the tour would likely take another half hour, so she figured they had time for food.

“What would you say to getting a hotdog from one of the vendors outside?” She asked. 

“I would say we should get pizza instead.” He stated, and she couldn’t help but smile.

“You’re a smart boy, let’s go.”