#It's gonna be a miracle if I even get out of bed on Christmas Eve

[callivich]

Gallavich Winter Fic Recs ❄️

@ohkate asked me for my favourite winter fics so here we go! 💖

I bet there’s some I’ve forgotten, so I may add to this in the future. I’d love to know what everyone else’s favourite wintery gallavich stories are, if you feel like sharing?

The Axe by redkay

“Do you have an axe?” Ian asks. “On me?” Mickey clarifies.

A better day (for you) by @captainjowl

Ian is unhappy, Mickey can see it. He's quiet and withdrawn, and it's obvious that something is weighting on him. Worried, Mickey tries everything to cheer him up, but nothing seems to be able to improve his mood. Until suddenly, a few weeks before Christmas, Ian gets a phone call that brings the spark back to his eyes.

Closed for Christmas by @abundanceofnots

Two boys, one (not so) festive evening.

Santa Comes Early by @whatthebodygraspsnot

Late Christmas Eve night, Mickey wakes to find a stranger in his living room. What follows can only be described as holiday magic. Or maybe a fever dream. Because Mickey didn’t know Santa Claus had a son. A son who’s not only extremely handsome, but who just so happened to make a special trip to Mickey’s house, without his father knowing about it. So really, how can Mickey not fuck him?

12 days of gallavich by @sam-loves-seb

a collection of christmas one shots featuring ian and mickey through the years

Keeping Warm Amongst the Cold by @scarlet-witchery

Two newlyweds, a snowy day, a pile of Gallaghers, and lots of memories.

Show Me Family by @ifallonblackdays

Ian wants to celebrate their first Christmas in their new apartment. It backfires spectacularly. Until it doesn't.

Miracle on Naperville Road by @whatthebodygraspsnot

Mickey’s known for a while now that he and Ian are closer than coworkers really should be. There’s something there between them - it’s obvious - their timing has just always been off. But this year, the Christmas party at their rich boss’s house feels different. Important. Destined. Ian and his ex are freshly split. And Mickey’s just made sure he’s single too.

Love is Patient by @whatthebodygraspsnot

Mickey’s husband wants to send out Christmas cards this year, so god damn it, they’re gonna send out Christmas cards! Now if only said husband wasn’t distracted by a book in bed, instead of coming to see the final product. Surely Mickey can fix this in a normal and un-demonic way, right? …right? Hello?

Truth or Dare by @thisdivorce Ian and Mickey share some truths.

mentally, physically weak by pinkpantherman

“Think I got a way to warm you up, princess,” he says suggestively, kisses trailing down Ian’s jaw, easily accessing his neck when Ian tilts his head back. “Okay,” Ian mumbles with a smile, looking down and brushing his nose against Mickey’s, “but I’m not removing these clothes in any way, shape, or form, so you better get creative.”

Valued by @whatthebodygraspsnot

Mickey wakes up from his afternoon nap to find his husband getting the backyard ready for winter. Early. Like how he came home early from his visit to the Gallagher house. Something’s off with Ian, and even though it’s hard for him, Mickey’s gonna figure out what. And then he’s gonna fix it.

Jack My Heat by @whatthebodygraspsnot

After a long winter day outside, Mickey helps himself to Ian's body heat on the couch. It's perfect - they've got a blanket, a fire in the fireplace, a joint that's keeping them laughing - everything that makes for a good hangout. They're best friends, after all. And when an accidental, curious little grind works up between them for the first time, maybe something more?

to the thawing wind by @gardenerian

Living and working in the icy chill of an endless winter, Ian and his family are assigned to work the farms to bolster food supply. They live quietly enough, following the rules, until Mickey and Mandy Milkovich (with all their secrets) are moved in across the road.

'Tis The Damn Season by @sweetcresta

“How long you in town for?” Mickey’s voice, muffled by the cigarette hanging from his lips, pulls Ian from his trance. He looks over at him, and for a split second, Mickey looks younger, like the high school boy that used to bring Ian to his knees. But in reality, they’re in their mid-twenties and they’re starting to get lines on their faces, the teenagers they once were lost to the passing of a decade. Instead of letting the memories linger, he wills them down with a gulp. “Just till the end of the weekend.” OR: Ian comes home for Christmas and old habits die hard. Based on Tis the damn season by Taylor Swift.

Merry & Bright by @arrowflier

On the eve of their first Christmas in their own place, Ian and Mickey prepare to host their family and think about how much their lives have changed.

Hay It's Getting Cold Out by @depressedstressedlemonzest

Mickey wants to shelter the stray cat he's grown attached to outside the apartment complex.

just another mall rat monday by you_me_us

Ian and Mickey are both working in a mall when a winter storm hits, somehow they are the last employees left inside and they have to survive together for one night.

like looking through a fogged mirror by charlemint

"It snowed! Wake up, it snowed!" "Th'fuck?" Mickey grunts, sleep thick voice cutting into the quiet after the toddler's morning assault on his ears. "Gonna guess it snowed," comes a flat, sleep slurred voice behind him, the pair of arms circled around Mickey's middle tightening. "Snow day for you then, Kris Kringle?" Mickey asks, his lips turning up in a lazy smirk when the nickname earns him a swat to his hip.

Throw a Girl Around by @arrowflier

Kev and Vee are in town to start the year off right, and an afternoon of playing in the snow with the kids turns into an afternoon of giving Mickey shit. In other words, it's a day ending in y.

LET IT SNOW! by @restapesta

Lip thought the upcoming blizzard to be the perfect excuse to disappear from home for a while. What he didn't think of was anybody being at the Gallagher house as he did so, especially not Ian and Mickey.

Auld Lang Syne by @arrowflier

On New Year's Eve, Ian is looking forward to a fresh start. Mickey, not so much.

ablaze by @catgrassplantdad

Ian and Mickey finally put their new fireplace to good use.

Snowballs and Sneaking Out by @gallawitchxx

Mickey shows up to the Gallagher House in the middle of the night with a surprise for Ian.

Notes on Optimism by @gallavichy

Mickey POV Cooperative Gameplay one-shot. Ian and Mickey take their Christmas trip to New York.

[hioyourluv]

It's November 15th. Have you ever stopped to think that in 16 days it will already be December. Have you

[etoileholland]

CHAPTER 3 - Candlewax and Polaroids on the hardwood floor

Pairing: Tom Holland x reader

Word count: 2.9k

Warnings: none at all

a/n: it’s a miracle! I’m finally updating this fic! I know it’s been a very long time since the first two chapters were posted, but I felt as though I never had the time to finish. I do now, so I really hope you enjoy!

Tom couldn’t stop thinking about the moment when you kissed him on the cheek. He’s never felt more giddy over someone, and you were consuming all of his thoughts. When he closed his eyes, he saw you. When he had a free moment, he thought of you. He never stopped thinking of you, but with the happiness of you, a realisation hit him.

You were moving away to university.

The thought of you leaving filled him with immense melancholy, but he knew that he couldn’t stand in your way. This was a huge moment for you, so even though he was sad about you leaving, he had to support you wholeheartedly.

A few days passed, and it was now New Year’s Eve. Tom hadn’t heard from you since Christmas dinner, but he knew you were busy with the move. Still, worry washed over him, and he wanted to go and check up on you to make sure you were okay.

He was set to go to a New Year’s party, which was thrown at the Madison at St. Paul’s. Harrison was especially excited to attend the party, because it was rumored that the cast of Love Island would be there, and none of the boys wanted to miss out on that. Tom sent a quick text to you, and unenthusiastically continued to get ready.

“Are you coming?” Harrison bellowed from the other room. He emerged into the doorframe, adjusting his bow tie. “I don’t wanna be late--I’ve waited like all year for this.”

“I don’t wanna be late either!” Harry shouted from down the hall. “I need to meet Maura soo bad.”

Tom glanced down at his phone when he noticed that you had texted him back. He read your message, and his eyebrows furrowed together. “Actually, I think you should go by yourself. Y/N’s spending the night packing up the house, so I’m going to help her instead.”

Loud footsteps came within earshot, and a few seconds later, Harry was standing in the doorframe. “You coming?”

“No.” Tom answered. “I was just telling Haz I’m not gonna make it, you guys can go without me.”

Harrison titled his head to look at Harry. “He’s gonna go to Y/N’s instead.”

At the mention of your name, Harry’s face lit up. “Ooh, how exciting.” Harry glanced over at Harrison and gave him a smirk. “Tom’s definitely going to have more fun at Y/N’s”.

“Oi, I’m serious,” Tom plunked down on the bed, “I don’t want her spending the holiday alone.” He sighed. “She has no one else, and the thought of her being in her empty childhood home is incredibly depressing.”

A spell of silence fell over them, the air in the room instantly turning somber. Harry, who was now leaning against the doorframe, tapped Harrison in the shoulder excitedly.

“I know, why don’t we bring the celebration to her? We could go buy some balloons, confetti and some champagne. That way, she’ll have one last happy memory of her house before it’s packed up.”

The trio exchanged a glance with each other. “I think that may be the best idea you’ve ever had mate.” Harrison softly slapped Harry’s arm, causing Harry to look up at him.

“I can even bring my Polaroid.” Harry added.

Tom clicked his tongue, “Let’s do it.”

The boys went down to a party shop for the balloons and confetti, and to a shop to get some champagne. This took them longer than anticipated because the boys got distracted at the party shop, trying on every odd hat and mask they had, but eventually they showed up at your door, champagne and balloons in hand. It was nearly 10pm, and they had left almost an hour and a half ago.

Tom was the first to make it up to your doorstep, then Harry, and finally Harrison. They all knocked on your door at the same time, not stopping until you answered the door a minute later. They were surprised to see you in your pajamas, eyes red and puffy.

“Y/N,” Harry breathed out, “are you all right?”

You shook your head yes, sniffing. “I’m fine, really.” You leaned up against your door, shrugging your shoulders, “just, holidays are hard.” You choked out.

Harrison was the first to react, throwing his arms around you, pulling you into a tight embrace. The affection alone was enough to almost make you burst out into tears. “What are you guys doing here?” You questioned, although your cheek was pressed up against Harrison’s shoulder, muffling your voice. “You guys are all dressed up so fancily.” After a second, you gasped. “Were you guys headed to a party?”

Tom cleared his throat gently, rubbing his hands together. “Well, we were. But when you said you were going to be alone, I was gonna come by to keep you company. And then Harrison and Harry both wanted to come by too, and Harry-”

“Who actually had a smart thought for the first time ever in his life.” Harrison interjected.

“Brought up the smart idea to bring the celebration to you.” Tom concluded.

You pulled away from Harrison’s warm embrace. “That was very nice of you guys,” you whispered , wiping a tear away. “Thank you, but now I feel bad because you’re missing out on some fancy-pants party,”

“Eh, who cares about a swanky party.” Harrison shrugged.

“We’d rather be with you.” Tom answered quietly. You smiled at Tom, and said “thank you guys.”

“Welcome.” Harry answered, “now let’s get this par-tay started!” he shouted as he held the bottle of champagne over his head.

You stepped out of the way so that the boys could pile into your house. The house was dark, and most of your possessions were already boxed up, taking up space on the south facing wall.

The hardwood floors creaked under every step--a sound that usually wasn’t loud, but now that everything’s been packed up, there was hardly any furniture to absorb the sound. Every sound echoed loudly, almost reverberating off the walls.

“Well, the acoustics in here are just fantastic.” Harrison commented, and Tom smacked him in the arm.

“You know, all the years I've lived here, I never once heard the floors creak.” You remarked, “Maybe because this whole room was covered with a large rug, and my aunt always had some music playing. So, even if the floors creaked, I would’ve never noticed.”

“It’s a nice home though, nevertheless.” Harry said, setting the champagne on the only remaining coffee table.

You padded over to the light switch, and once the lights came on, instantly the house looked less haunted. “You guys can make yourselves comfortable, if you want. I don’t really have any food to offer, though.”

Tom tied the balloons that he was holding on one of the legs of the coffee table. “It’s fine, we ate earlier.”

“I know it’s depressing in here, and I’m really sorry about that.” You mentioned, addressing the elephant in the room. You were standing next to an antique record player that sat near the front door.

Tom walked over to you, leaning his head against your shoulder. It was a simple affectionate gesture, but it had your heart racing. “Don’t worry about it, but that’s why we’re here to party.” He booped your nose lightly, which made you giggle.

“Are you going to party dressed like that?” Harrison asked, causing you to playfully scoff. You were in an oversized hoodie, a large pair of sweats, and some bunny slippers.

“I didn’t know I would be a guest on ‘what not to wear.” you joked, winking at him playfully. Throwing your hands in the air, you shuffled over to your room, locking it behind you. You quickly riffled through your drawers and closet, pulling out a pair of jeans and a glittery top. Getting dressed as quickly as you could, you admired yourself in the mirror, smiling to yourself. The boys were so sweet for stopping by, knowing them was probably the best thing that’s happened this year to you.

The boys waited for you in the living room; Harry fiddled with the record player to get it to work, and when he finally managed to figure out how to use it, he realized there wasn’t a record in sight. So, to remedy this, he put on a random New Year’s playlist he found on Spotify.

You glanced at yourself once more before emerging from your bedroom. As you headed out of your room, you noticed Harry standing in the now lively living room. He glanced up at you, and with a smirk, he pulled a long tube out of his jacket pocket. He pulled a little loop on it, and instantly a loud bang echoed through the room, releasing a flurry of gold and white coloured confetti. The sudden sound startled you just a bit, but seeing the confetti flurry brought a smile to your face.

“Happy new year.” You whispered to yourself.

—

The night went better than you could’ve ever imagined. You all danced to party songs and drank champagne out of plastic champagne flutes. Harry did not miss any chances to take candid photos of you guys laughing, dancing, drinking and smiling.

He would show you the best photos that he took, and you couldn’t help but feel beautiful. He made you look ethereal and glowing.

“You know…” you shouted to him over the music, “you made me look really beautiful in these photos.”

Without skipping a beat, Harry answered back, “darling, I don’t have to make you look beautiful. You already are.”

This brought happy tears to your eyes.

—

As it got closer to midnight, the energy of the room died down. Harry was sitting next to Harrison, showing him something funny on his phone. You were tired from all the dancing and excitement, so you sat down on the plush couch.

Tom had joined you on the couch, and carefully sat down next to you. He had left for about 30 minutes, but you didn’t dare ask what he was up to. You looked up to see that he was smiling at you softly, with his cheeks pink with happiness.

“How are you enjoying the night?” He whispered to you, as the music was at a lower volume than it was earlier.

“I’m having the best night of my life.” You whispered back. You watched as Tom’s face lit up into a smile and then into a soft laugh. “I’m serious.” You spoke up. “I’ve never smiled so much in my life.”

Tom’s face softened into a caring gaze, and you realized he was sitting very close to you. Close enough that your thighs were touching. It made you wonder how long you guys have been sitting that close to each other.

“Well, I’m really glad we’ve given you a happy night. You deserve it.”

You were about to answer him when Harrison shouted “it’s three minutes until the new year!”

Tom sat up and moved his body away from yours. You couldn’t help the small frown that appeared on your face, but that quickly subsided when he stood up and held out his hand. “Can I show you something?”

You nodded and grabbed his hand. He led you upstairs and towards the guest bedroom. He turned around to steal a quick glance at you, and then opened the bedroom door. When you both were inside, he let go of your hand and walked towards the window. With a wiggle of the lock, he slid open the window and sat down at the reading ledge just below the window. You remember all the fond memories of sneaking into this room, sitting on the ledge whilst reading whatever book struck your fancy, all while listening to the bustling noises of London from outside the window.

You sat next to him, making yourself comfortable as you leaned out the window. Tom watched as your face softened, and his lips curled into a smile. It was obvious that it was bringing up good memories for you, so he let you bask in the happiness.

He couldn’t stop looking at you. He saw a small tear escape the corner of your eye, and he turned away to give you a second.

“Thank you, for everything.” You whispered to him.

“You’re welcome.” He whispered back. As he answered, he heard a firework go off in the distance, and happy shouting coming from the streets.

“It must be midnight.” You answered and turned to face Tom. “Happy New Year.”

“Happy New Year. Here’s to a good year.” He answered back. Tom had wanted to kiss you, but he didn’t want to overstep. He was infatuated with you, but he wasn’t entirely sure you felt the same. So, instead of acting upon his instincts, he leaned his head on your shoulder.

The movement surprised you, and Tom, taking it as a sign that you didn’t want the affection, lifted his head and sat back up.

“Sorry.” He said, sitting up. The fireworks were still going off in the distance, and Tom focused his attention on the fireworks. You watched his face as he intently viewed the fireworks, and you felt bad that you potentially ruined a moment with him by moving away.

Acting with the bit of liquid courage that was still coursing through your veins, you pressed a gentle kiss on the corner of his lips. You slowly leaned back, scanning Tom’s face to see if you overstepped. His widened pupils and eyes stared back at you, and he leaned in closer to you.

“May I?” He asked, his voice hoarse and low. Not able to even make a sound, you nodded your head yes and closed the gap between you both. He hovered his lips over yours, making sure it was okay to proceed. The suspense was killing you, but you loved how gentle he was.

As his lips intertwined with yours, you could taste the champagne from earlier. His lips were softer than what you imagined, yet he kissed you with enough movement to know that he was enjoying it.

You pulled away and hovered over his lips. The smile that erupted on your face couldn’t be helped, and you could feel Tom’s warm breath over your lips. In the distance you could still hear the fireworks and people cheering in the streets, a nice melody to accompany the moment.

His hand, which was now at the center of your back, was moving down your back. He stopped just at the base, and looked into your eyes. You noticed his eyes were slightly closed in a content manner, and you leaned in to kiss him again.

Not breaking the kiss, he pulled you into his lap. You wrapped your arms around his neck and continued to kiss him fervently (look up word). His breath was warm against your lips, and your breathing intensified. When he pulled away, you only closed the gap between each other, and when you finally pulled away, he did the same.

Still sitting on his lap, you moved your hands from around his neck to the nape of his neck. One hand slowly moved up into his hair, playing with his curls. His hands were still wrapped around your waist, firmly gripping you. The lights from the firework’s illuminated both of your faces, and the light made his eyes sparkle like the stars above.

“We should probably…”

“Yeah.” Tom answered quietly. You slowly got up from his lap and fixed your outfit. He followed suit and got the wrinkles out of his button up and slacks.

He held out his hand once more, and you followed him out of the room and back into the living room.

——

The rest of the night was a blur, and the morning light that came in through the curtains signaled that the new year was officially here.

You were on the couch, and so was Tom. His legs were intertwined with yours, his left arm was wrapped around you. As you slowly got up to not wake Tom, you saw Harrison and Harry sprawled out on the floor, with their jackets acting as a pillow. The sight of them made you giggle, and you grabbed a blanket from one of the boxes and covered them up.

The floor creaked as you walked into the kitchen to prepare a cup of tea for everyone, when you heard some footsteps behind you. It was Harrison and Harry, each one holding a hand to their forehead.

“Good god, I think I had too much to drink.” Harrison spoke up in a grovely voice.

“We had fun though mate, that’s all that matters.” Harry groaned.

“Definitely, I really appreciate you coming round and cheering me up.” You answered, holding out a hot cup of tea for them to grab. “It was such a memorable night.”

Setting his cup down on the counter, Harry bends down and picks up a Polaroid from the ground. In it was you, Tom and Harrison holding your plastic champagne flutes up in a toast. Your faces were beaming with bright smiles, and Tom was looking over at you, while you looked at the camera. Harry handed you the photo, and you clutched it to your chest. “I’m going to cherish this forever, because I never want to forget last night.”

“Well, you know what they say…” Harry commented, “Hold onto the memories, and they will hold on to you.”

“Oi, didn’t Taylor Swift sing that?” Harrison questioned.

“Oh I don’t know.” Harry remarked, “I think I heard it in a Hallmark movie.”

“You uncultured dunce, Taylor did sing that.” Harrison added with a laugh.

——

additional a/n: I have no idea who to tag since it’s been two years since I updated so if you’d like to be added to my new taglist lemme know!

[for-fucks-sake-h]

I’ll Be Home For Christmas

a/n: Hiiii! Huge thanks to @goldenbluesuit​ for organizing this 25 days of christmas fic challenge! So happy I could be a part of it! And thanks to my girls @andwhenshesays​ @oh-honey-styles​ for all the knives 😏 Enjoy babes and happy holidays! x  

rated: m, mature || word count: 3.6k 

You moved the same ornament for the third time in the last hour.  It was Christmas Eve, and nearing midnight.  You were trying not to get too antsy… but it wasn’t much use.  

His day on set ran late, as it did most of the time.  But tonight wasn’t “most nights”, or a FaceTime call that could be picked up whenever. He knew how much you loved the holiday, and how excited you were to share it with him. And he promised he’d be home for it.  

He promised.  

But he missed his flight, and now he was behind schedule. You knew what you were signing up for with him - the most sought after man you’d ever encountered.  He was constantly being pulled every which way. And it didn’t bother you much. No, you really didn’t mind. You just wanted one night, one night where he was on time, when you didn’t get the “running late” text or “don’t wait up” call.  

You’d gotten it though. You’d gotten the first call three hours ago… which was two hours after you had expected him to be home.  And then another call every hour since. He’d asked you to play the song, keep it playing until he got there. But the minutes turned into hours with no sight of him. You kept waiting, hoping you’d hear the garage opening for him to pull his car inside, the jingle of the bell ornament on the door handle, the patter of his socked feet on the floor.  

Instead, nothing but silence.  

You were blowing out the cookie scented candle that was perched on the coffee table when your phone rang softly beneath a pillow on the couch.  It was going to be the “go to bed without me, love” call, you could feel it.  

“Hi,” you answered.    

“Still playing the song?” His voice was deep, an easy tone that was saved just for you.  

“Harry,” you sighed. “It’s almost midnight, babe.”  Despite your words and disposition, Frank Sinatra was still serenading you with I’ll Be Home For Christmas from the record player in the corner of your living room.

“I know, love.” He sounded the slightest bit defeated. He tried, you know he did. “Just keep it on, yeah? Manifesting and what not.”  

You smiled softly, but kept quiet.  You loved him - you loved him so much.  But you also felt like you missed him more than you physically got to love him.  

“How is the storm there?” you asked softly, as if you hadn’t already checked the weather at JFK. As if you didn’t already know that inclement weather had his nonstop flight from LA to London changing to a connection in New York, that his flight was delayed, that it was more likely than not that he was stuck there.  

“Not good, angel.”  

You sighed. You knew, but it hurt to hear him say it.  

“Don’t lose hope yet. Jeff’s working on it,” he added quickly.    

“Don’t think Jeff is a miracle worker, H.”

Harry hummed softly. “He’s been known to work his magic on more than one occasion.”  

You appreciated his optimism. And you hoped he was right.  You hoped that Jeff could find some way to get him home.  You just… wanted to wake up with him on Christmas morning. You felt selfish for it, but you also didn’t. Because it wasn’t selfish to want him around. Especially for the holidays. Isn’t that what most people wanted? To share the holidays with their loved ones? And who did you love more than him?

“Think I’m gonna head to bed,” you solemnly spoke.  

“Okay, love. Just… humor me, okay? Keep the song on.”  

***  

The slightest tickle against your cheek pulled you from sleep.  You could smell his cologne before you even opened your eyes, and you could have sworn it was a dream.  The softest touch of his fingers grazing your cheek and jaw, his breath against your temple before you felt the soft press of his mouth against your skin.  

“You kept it on,” he stated softly, just before he tapped pause on your phone laying on the nightstand.  

“Course,” you whispered, eyes still closed as his lips teased down your temple and across your cheek.  

You shifted until you could blindly wrap your arms around his shoulders, his face tucking perfectly into your warm neck.  

“Missed you,” he offered quietly, the syllables pressing into your skin to travel down your spine.  

You squeezed him tighter, inhaling his scent that mixed with the murkiness from the snow. “How’d you get here?” you asked, your own lips pressing against his neck.  

“Told you Jeff had some magic left.”  

You squeezed again, his own arms tightening around your waist.  “Remind me to send him an edible arrangement.”  

He chuckled warmly, his breath cascading across your neck and down your chest, his lips puckering against your skin.  He pulled back abruptly, his hand coming up to cup the side of your neck where his lips just were.  The early morning light was just barely coming through the shades, illuminating the room in the softest yellow glow.  

“I missed you so much,” he murmured, his thumb caressing your cheek repeatedly.

“I missed you too.”  You pulled him in by his open dress shirt, his lips meeting yours instantly. They were warm and full, emotion in every caress.  You missed his kiss; the way you could feel closer to him just by having his lips on yours.  

You reached up to push your fingers through his hair, ready to feel the soft, thick strands - only to be met with the hard resistance of hair gel. You were the one pulling back this time, catching a glimpse of his tired eyes and puffy mouth just before you took in the rest of his appearance - a white button down that was undone as far as you could see, a white tank top beneath, and an opened bow tie hanging from his collar.  

You leaned over the bed to see black dress pants with suspenders hanging from his hips.  He was perched on one knee, his other foot planted on the floor, his knee spread wide to accommodate his close proximity to your bedside.  

“You’re still in wardrobe?”

He snickered softly. “Ran out of there so quickly I forgot my clothes. Just bolted as soon as I could.”  

You smiled with him, pulling him in again by his open shirt. “Well, you look amazing. Only you could look like this after a night of traveling.”  

He did look amazing. And felt amazing. Everything about him reeled you in. Your time apart only heightened how much you loved him - and needed him.

His lips traveled down your jaw and neck, sucking softly with each kiss. Every move of his mouth made your skin tingle in its wake, begging for more.

“God, you’re so warm,” he murmured against your skin, his arms wrapping around you once more as his mouth made its way down your chest to kiss and suck the swell of your breast. “And naked,” he chuckled softly, pulling the blanket down to expose more of your skin.  “I missed you so much.”  

Your breath shuddered when he took hold of your thighs, turning your body on the bed until he could lift one of your knees up and over his head. His hands caressed the outsides of your thighs, tugging you gently so that your ass was resting at the edge of the bed, your knees spread open for him to slot between. 

Your chest rose and fell harshly as the cool air of the room hit your center.  You couldn’t take your eyes off him, watching as he looked down between your thighs, knowing you ached just for him.  His hair was perfectly coiffed, and if it wasn’t for his disheveled shirt and the utter longing written all over his face, you would have thought he was unphased.  

But then his breath caught, and the smallest, moaning sigh slipped from his lips as his hands squeezed your thighs once more, his need palpable.  

“Fuck. You’re perfect.” His voice was barely a whisper, and it made you clench down around nothing.  

You sucked in a breath. “Please, H.”

“Just a taste,” he promised, flicking his eyes up to yours for a brief moment before returning to your core. “Just need one taste.”  

One of his hands smoothed down and under your thigh, his fingers momentarily caressing along the softest part of your inner thigh. He was careful when his fingers skimmed your outermost lips, a ghost of a touch that resembled the faintest tickle, but had your skin burning nonetheless.

A soft moan escaped your bitten lip when he spread you open fully, his intake of breath at the sight of you - glistening with need - was so palpable you felt like you could feel his tongue before it actually touched you.  

“Harry,” you sighed, desperation threaded through your tone.  

“I know, love. Can see how bad you want it.”  

You moaned softly, your hips arching towards him more; a wordless beg.  

“Missed me too, huh?”  

You didn’t say anything - couldn’t really, not with the way you could feel his words caress the most sensitive part of you. His breath was so warm it was shocking, your knees jerking slightly against your will.  

“Be good, angel.” His words were a warning, but his tone was a challenge. And his actions - the way he smoothed his first and middle finger along either side of your clit, so close yet so far from where you needed him - well, that made you think he was just waiting for you to make the next move. Knowing Harry, he liked the beg. He liked it when you were needy and gasping for him. But he also liked it when you showed that you couldn’t take it anymore.  

So in a moment of brash decision, you went with the latter, reaching down to take hold of his matted hair and pull him closer to your core.  His responding chuckle was deep and laced with arousal, and his breath hit you like a fan on a hot summer day. He hummed from the back of his throat, the softest touch of his lips grazing along your sensitive clit.  

“Gonna show me you missed me?” He didn't pull away, simply welcomed the burn at his roots from your tightly fisted hand, all while the tip of his middle finger grazed just barely along your clit. “Want me to lick here?”

“Yes,” you whined, tugging on his hair once more.  

That was the thing about Harry; he liked to tease, but he didn’t prolong it.  Deep down you knew that he wanted to lick into your warm center just as much as you wanted him to. And he knew it too.  

He circled your clit slowly, his shaky breath meeting your wetness in a huff as he dipped the tip of his tongue into you, his nose brushing against the hood of your clit just enough to have you arching into his touch. It was brief, but it had your core clenching on its own accord and your hand tightening in his again even more. You weren’t sure how it didn’t hurt him - you were insistent, squeezing and tugging relentlessly. But you also knew he liked the little zap of pain that zipped down his spine when you pulled hard enough, or dug your nails into his back, or squeezed his neck just right.  

When he suctioned his mouth over your clit with a groan, the warmth encasing you as his tongue drilled against your clit over and over again, you couldn’t help your neck from snapping back and your legs widening that tiny bit more for him, ready to absorb every ounce of pleasure he gave. It wasn’t something you thought about, but something you had noticed over time. The way you subconsciously wanted to be as exposed to him as possible, yearning to feel him fully, in every sense.  

“Ah, my god,” you gasped, lifting your head to look down at him and watch the pleasure grace his features as he pleasured you.    

His hair was disheveled where it stuck out between your fingers, his eyebrows furrowed deeply as his eyes - hazy and fucked out - flicked up to meet yours. His nose pressed against your mound, the smallest crinkle forming on the bridge as he flattened his tongue on your clit more, warm and strong in every stroke.  

“I need… more,” you breathed. “I want you inside me.”  

He quickly turned to bite into your inner thigh, the zip of pain mixing with your pleasure as his index and middle finger teased along your entrance before slowly pushing into you. “Not what I meant,” you whined despite your core pulsing around his digits.  

“Wanna taste you come, angel.”  He pumped his fingers slowly, curling up to brush along your g-spot, his breath ricocheting against your clit. “Can I? Will you let me taste it, love?”

Your back arched off the bed, tilting your hips towards him more just as he licked over your clit again. “Fuck,” you moaned, your hips finding a rhythm with his hand and mouth until you were practically fucking his face, pushing down onto his fingers with every pump.  

And his groan - the sounds he made as he licked you, his fingers a steady pressure, his other hand gripping your hip tightly - it all worked together to bring you right to the edge, pulling his hair tighter when he had you free falling with a persistent stroke of his tongue. The vibration of his moans only added to your pleasure, shockwaves shooting throughout your body as your orgasm rolled through you. It was intense, overwhelming, exhilarating.

“God, Harry,” you sighed as he eased his fingers from your core, his tongue quickly dipping into you instead, tasting your arousal; warm and heady on his tongue.  

“That’s my girl,” he spoke with his cheek against your inner thigh, turning to plant a hot kiss there. “Needed that as much as you did.”  

His words sent a shiver across your skin at the exact moment that he kissed his way over the top of your thigh. You sat up as quickly as you could, still shaky and fuzzy headed, but eager for more of him.

A gentle tug of his hair had his mouth landing on yours, warm and wet and tasting of you. His tongue was welcomed, smoothing over yours in a quick pass as a soft moan slipped up his throat. His arm wrapped around you while his other hand found its way into the back of your hair, pulling just enough to tilt your head back for him.

“I want you so bad I can barely breathe,” he murmured into your neck. You could envision the way his lips curved around the words, feeling every movement on your skin. One of his hands lifted to tug you back by your hair, his glossy eyes meeting yours with an insufferable amount of need. “Will you have me?”

You reached down to frantically tug on his shirt, pulling it from where it was still sloppily tucked into his dress pants. “Fuck. Please,” you rushed as you tugged open the last button and pushed the shirt from his shoulders, wanting him just as desperately.  

He pulled you in by the back of your neck, mouth meeting yours fervently, his breathing ragged as he fumbled with his belt and button, pushing his suspender clad pants down just enough. You barely separated when he eagerly pulled his tank top off, his hands quickly finding purchase on your hips as soon as it was discarded. You smoothed your palms over his chest, nails grazing against his collarbones before digging into the tops of his pecs, feeling the way his heart shuddered in his chest.  

No sooner was he grasping you tighter and pulling you into him fully; your ass slipping off the edge of the bed and into his waiting lap. You gripped onto his shoulders tighter and all at once he was reaching down to guide his length into you, both of your panting breaths hitting each other’s lips over and over.  

“Oh, god,” you shuddered as he filled you, rock solid and almost too warm as you eased onto his waiting length. Your hips moved against his methodically, as if from memory, with no justification from your mind whatsoever, until you were sat fully, his tip prodding the deepest parts of you.  

Harry's breath hit your neck first, a groan following close behind to paint your skin in a warm, delicious hue of gold.  “Christ,” he exhaled against your clammy skin, pulling you impossibly close, your chests and pelvis pressed tightly together. “That’s it,” he encouraged. “Take me so well, love.”

You hummed in response, the sound barely squeaking out between your parted lips as your core clenched around him in a vice grip. An experimental tilt of your hips had your clit brushing against the neat patch of hair at the top of his groin, a sharp contrast to the absolute fullness of having him inside you after so long. And then his hands were guiding you, practically pumping your hips onto his length as a moan ripped from your throat.  

“God, fuck me,” he groaned with his face tucked into your neck.  

“You feel so good.” Your voice was a whine and a plea at the same time, intent on absorbing everything he gave. He did miss you, every part of you felt his longing rippling off his skin with every move he made; every pump of his hips, every swipe of his tongue against your skin, every squeeze of his hands into your flesh, everything cementing the overpowering feeling of need coursing through your veins.  

You moaned against his throat, nipping at his flushed skin as he fucked into you at a deafening pace.  And then he was pushing you away from him, a pathetic sound leaving your throat when his cock slipped from you as he pushed you up onto the bed. You blinked heavily, dazed, before you were grappling to get a hold on him to pull him closer.  His arm wrapped under your waist, his mouth falling onto yours with a sigh as he shimmied you both up and up, until you were both sprawled out on the bed. His movements were rushed, flustered, more than eager to slip back into you. His weight was overwhelming, pressing you further into the mattress as his tongue teased into your mouth, your taste still prominent.

You both released matching sighs when you reached down to guide him back to you, his hips sinking into yours in one delicious stroke. His hands found your neck, cupping the sides of your throat just enough to make your skin burn hotter as he found his rhythm.

“Fuck,” you breathed, your fingers immediately finding your clit as fire shot through your veins.  

He was intoxicating, and chasing your high with him even more so. You couldn’t get enough. He made you feel like every single inch of your skin could ignite in flames at any given moment, and he was more than willing to succumb to the burn.  

Harry grunted roughly. “Y’gonna make me cum,” he warned in his deep, honeyed voice. “Fuck, fuck, fuck…”    

“Don’t stop,” you pleaded with barely any breath. His strokes were relentless, and you matched his rhythm as you played with your clit, the nails of your opposite hand digging in the plush skin of his ass cheek. “I’m so close, don’t stop.”  

“Won’t- won’t stop,” he grunted out between clenched teeth. “So fucking wet, love.” You could hear the way his skin slapped against yours, the sounds your bodies made so filthy and beautiful it overwhelmed you. “Come on, cum again for me.”    

“Oh god,” you gasped, your fingers speeding up as Harry hit the same spot in you over and over again, his thrusts deliberate and precise despite his own impending release.  

“Fuck, please love,” he begged hotly against your mouth, his hips staggering into yours for those last few thrusts, his fingers tightening on your throat just enough to tip you over the edge.  

And when you fell, oh when you fucking fell, you floated up into the air first, suspended at the very top of your orgasm for a moment before you were toppling down the side of a mountain. Your legs shook with it, fingers digging into his skin even more, crying out into his mouth as your body convulsed.  All it took was three more rough jolts of Harry’s hips into yours to have him slamming into the hilt, stilling with his hips tight against yours as rope after rope of his orgasm filled you, groaning desperately into your mouth.  

He all but collapsed on top of you, his face falling into your neck as you both tried to catch your breath. “Your pussy feels like it has its own pulse,” he remarked breathlessly into your clammy skin before he slowly pulled his length from you.      

Your legs felt like they were still vibrating as your chest heaved against his, your arms and legs falling out widely against the mattress, Harry’s practically doing the same.  You could feel the way his release slowly seeped from your core, too exhausted and exhilarated to care.  

“Merry fucking Christmas,” you sighed, a lazy smile spreading across your face. 

“Mhm,” he agreed with a chuckle, lifting his head to find your lips and taste you fully.  He rolled, pulling you with him so that you were both laying on your sides across the end of the bed. “Let’s shower,” he murmured as he brushed your hair back, his happiness seeping through his tone, “and then we can do presents.”

You nodded with your eyes still closed, pushing your face into his neck more as you scratched up and down his back, breathing in his warmth and love.  

You may have missed him a disgusting amount while he was gone - but he always found his way home.

***

[ masterlist ]  [ talk to me ] 

[harryspet]

Hey hun! 😊😊 For the holiday dark fics can I request a dark Neighbor AU for Steve with the prompt 41) “You were never supposed to find out...”

a/n: hope you enjoy!! thank you for requesting :) @opheliadawnwalker3

You sat across from Steve in a comfortable loveseat that sat in his living room, the fireplace warming the two of you. You only meant to stop by, to give him the plate of brownies, but he’d insisted that you come inside. You had to admit that his home was quite cozy, decked in lots of Christmas decorations, and the grin on his face was even warmer than the room. 

It was a wonder that he was the only one that lived in the house,  him being the only single bachelor in the entire neighborhood. Every time you came home for the holidays, your mother tried to set you up with him and you imagined the brownies were her strategy this year. 

“I didn’t think we’d get any snow this year,” You heard him say and you sipped at the hot cocoa he’d provided you. You could see through the window behind him that the snow was starting to fall lightly. 

“Me neither,” You agreed, “It’s gonna be a perfect Christmas Eve, I can already tell.”

Though he smiled, you noticed a longing in his eyes, like he was suddenly transported somewhere else, “I’m sure your mother has a lot of festivities planned.”

“Right,” you nodded, “She’s a bit crazy but she puts me in the spirit so it's fine … you’re not having any family over?”

Again, though there was a grin on his face, his eyes told a different story, “No, I don’t have much family,” He looked down at his own mug of hot cocoa, “But it’s still my favorite holiday as you can tell.” 

You laughed politely, “Yeah, I think the snow globes give it away,” You hinted at the fireplace which was beautifully decorated. You wondered if he’d invited you inside just because he wasn’t going to have anyone to talk to this year, “You should come over for dinner … tomorrow, I mean.”

His eyes widened and for a moment he seemed happy until he brushed it off, “Oh, no. Thank you though-”

“I’m serious,” You continued, “I know my Mom makes things a little awkward with us but I’ll tell her to tone it down. You shouldn’t be alone on the holidays.” You could imagine your mom jumping up and down in happiness right now. You weren’t interested in Steve, you lived an entire other life for most of the year, but you couldn’t leave without offering. 

“That would … that would be really nice,” He said, “Speaking of your Mom, I picked out some things to give to her. I was hoping to get a second opinion, they’re just in my office-”

“Yeah, sure,” You agreed, “Do you mind if I use your bathroom first?”

“Uhm,” He stood up just as you did, almost startling you, “Yes, let me take that from you-” You smiled awkwardly as you handed him the mug, “You can use the one upstairs. It’s the second door to the left.”

“I’ll be right back.”

You could’ve sworn you felt his eyes on you as you walked up the stairs. You brushed off the feeling and focused on handling your business. The upstairs was just as homey as the downstairs. He was like an alien to the rest of the male species, everything seemed so together that now you understood why your mother liked him so much. 

Things were going normally but you noticed a bottle of shampoo sitting in the shower. Coconut oil and cocoa butter. That was your favorite scent and you couldn’t remember the last time you used a different brand. You paused to think about it only for a moment. 

After washing your hands, you were using a hand towel when you smelt something familiar. Feeling crazy, you brought the hand towel to your nose to smell it. You could’ve sworn it smells exactly like your favorite winter perfume. At least, your old favorite, because they stopped selling that gingerbread and brown sugar mix a few years ago. 

Your eyebrows were still furrowed in confusion when you left the bathroom. After two weird coincidences, your curiosity was piqued and maybe that's why you approached the bedroom with the cracked door. It was just a peak but you found much more than you bargained for.

Scatter around the room were a bunch of your things, or replicas of your things. Your old blankie, some of your jewelry and knick knacks from your childhood bedroom. You even picked up your graduation photo which sat in a photo frame atop of a dresser. You held your breath, knowing you couldn’t spend any more time investigating, and you’d stepped back slowly but you’d already crossed a line. 

Like you’d tampered with a precious object in his dollhouse, he knew where you were. You moved quickly out of the room only to run into the wall that Steve called a chest, “Steve-” You smiled, hoping you could play pretend, “I’m sorry, everything is decorated so nicely that I had to look-”

“You were never supposed to find out,” His voice was solemn and a bit disappointed. Your heart was in your stomach and, looking in his eyes, he knew that you knew his secret. 

“Find out what?” You were still smiling though it was taking all the strength you had, “Can we go back downstairs?”

He moved forward, urging you back into the room and you knew then you had to decide what you were going to do. You could fight it, or you try and run, but you found yourself freezing, “Steve, you’re scaring me …” That was an understatement, “I thought we were going to look at gifts …”

“I never touched you,” He said and you nodded.

“I-I know.”

“I was good. I never crossed the line,” You started to realize that you weren’t talking about the same thing, “I watched from afar, that’s it, and I could’ve- I could’ve crossed the line many times but I didn’t.”

You kept nodding, “And you still don’t have to,” Your voice was small and, for a moment, you thought he might listen but he grabbed the door and shut it, “I’ll pretend I never saw anything! Like you said, you were good and you’re a good guy, I know that.”

“Did you ever … feel the same way?” 

Lie. 

“Yes, o-of course. I just never thought it would work with me living in another city,” He didn’t believe you. That much you could tell by the way his hands were tapping at his sides. 

“Your Mom always thought we would be together,” He said, “She probably would be overjoyed if we started seeing each other.”

Lie.

“Yeah,” You agreed, “She’d think it was a Christmas miracle. We could … we could tell her together, you know.”

Steve sighed, “I know that can’t happen. You think I’m crazy, I can see it in your eyes,” With great force, he grabbed you by your upper arm, pulling you into him. It seemed that he was breaking all his old rules and you were afraid he felt like he had nothing to lose, “I’ve loved you for a long time, do you know that?”

“Y-You have?” His grip relaxed and he seemed to savor your touch. He pulled you closer, his hand wrapping behind your back side, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. A shiver moved down your spine as you realized he was smelling your hair.

Lie.

“I don’t think you’re crazy, Steve.”

“You will,” He spoke bluntly, and you knew there was no talking him down. You tried to push away from him though he held you tightly, “But that’s okay! Time heals all things.”

“Let go of me, please,” You begged, tears staining your cheeks, but you felt your feet lift off the ground as he carried you over to the bed, “Please!”

He climbed on top of you, holding down your kicking limbs. His blonde hair fell messily over his forehead, his breathing was heavy but not from the physical exertion. He was breathless because he was looking at you, touching you, and soon he’d have you in more ways than one. 

“I don’t want to hurt you, doll, but it’ll be better if you relax because I’m gonna take my time with you.”

When he kissed you, he made sure you felt all of his love.

[darkfearsandkittyears]

Y'all, it's Whumptober! I'm super excited!

Okay, uh...funny story [and super embarrassing for me] I am a highly unorganized person, I have a calendar in my room, but it's so much easier to check the date on the huge calendar in the kitchen! So, I calculated the days till October in August, and promptly forgot to write prompts and outlines, [even though I pants most of my works].

Fast forward to today, when I see my mom writing down the October events. I was like, oh, she's just reminding herself for next month.

Then I realized.

I literally forgot that September comes right before October.

I literally thought that I had another month to plan ideas.

One of you come whack me on the head, I really need it.

Anywho, let's get on with the show!!

"Come on, Damian! Reach for it." Jason dangled Damian's bottle, inches from the baby's hands. Damian whined and stretched his arms out as far as they would go, attempting to snatch his bottle.  Jason smiled at the child. "Scoot forward. Like this." He demonstrated, pulling his body along with his arms.  Damian stared at him as if he'd grown a second head, then cooed a little.  "Yeah, it looks whack. But come on." Jason shrugged and put the bottle down, wagging Damian's little toy dog instead. On what planet did this qualify as a dog? It looked more like a deformed elephant.  The woman at the store had insisted it was a dog….he had to get Damian some more toys. All the parenting books said that babies needed good toys for development. "Come on buddy, get your..animal." Jason called. Damian laid his head on the quilt and sucked his thumb. Jason snapped a quick picture as the little boy nodded off, tuckered out by 'tummy time'. "Come on Dames, don't fall asleep just yet." Jason said, grunting as he got to his feet. The wound he'd sustained wasn't helping any, and the painkillers weren't working right, thanks to the pit.  Oh well.  "Come on kid, you can't fall asleep on your stomach." Jason rolled the sleepy baby over on his back. Big blue eyes batted up at him, laced with sleep.  Looked like Bruce, a little.  House of Wayne.  Once upon a time, Jason had wanted to use the kid as leverage...but this was a baby, and his brother. He'd realized that, but realized it a little late. Damian deserved to grow up, shielded from batdad's nonsense and in a world without Joker.  Godamn it, Talia was right.  Having a 'family' around him had cleared his head. And screwed up his plans. Majorly. But he wouldn't trade it for anything.  Besides, he'd nearly had Joker's brains splattered against the wall yesterday, right in front of Bruce's face.  He'd make them watch, make them all watch when he pulled the trigger on Joker. For himself. For Barbara.  For Damian. Maybe then, when Joker was dead, he'd present Damian to Bruce. Let Bruce wage war against the House of al Ghul while he and Damian ran for the hills. Then they'd double back and destroy both families. He couldn't kill Bruce, not until Damian was older. Jason was no Willis Todd, he was far from willing to force his brother into a life with no father. Picking sides would be Damian's choice, when he got older. But for now, it was Damian, Jason and Talia against the Joker and Batdad.  Not a hard fight.  Especially when Jason had the upper hand.  "We're gonna be just fine." Jason smiled down at the sleeping baby. "We're already winning." Damian's eyelashes fluttered, and he let out a tiny snore. Jason picked him up and transferred him to his playpen, then wandered out of the living room and into the bedroom that he'd converted into a gym.  A rumble of thunder burst through the room, and Jason paused, hoping it wouldn't wake Damian up. That was pretty loud, for thunder. The ground seemed to shake with the sound.  The pull up bar he'd installed yesterday clattered to the ground, and he flinched lightly as an image of a crowbar flashed before his eyes. It felt as if something had hit him in the back, but he chalked it up to imagination. He was probably imagining the fog around him too.  Some things Joker gave him, he could never get rid of.  But Damian began to cry, loud, hysterical wails that sent fear up Jason's spine. Another rumble broke through the air as Jason sprinted out of the room. A sickening crack ricocheted through the house, and Jason unwillingly moved to the left as something brushed his right shoulder.  A support beam.  "Damian!" Jason had never moved so fast, weaving past and through the falling drywall and wood. He was only feet away from the playpen when Damian's wails choked to a stop, as if someone had turned them off. Through the fog and falling objects, he reached into the playpen and curled around the child, shielding him with his body as he tried to find an exit.  Damian's body was limp in Jason's arms, not a cry or a coo. Jason risked a

glance at the child's closed eyes and pale, dust covered face. He shoved the blanket up to cover Damian's nose and rushed blindly into the direction of the doors. Behind him, a beam fell and what was left of the house shuddered.  An eerie feeling washed over Jason, settling right in the pit of his stomach. Everything went quiet, but Jason tensed, alert.  A hot burst of air slammed into his back, and he knew he'd been right to keep alert. Jason grunted as he was thrown into what was left of a wall, which crumbled, pinning his legs down. His mind fogged like a static TV, and he could feel warm air.  Fire.  Then realization hit.  Damian was no longer in his arms.  "Damian. Damian!" His throat was raw, coated in drywall dust and dirt. But he yelled on, hoping, needing to hear anything from the rubble.  But there wasn't a sound.  Jason pulled his leg from under the rubble and plowed through it to the best of his abilities, climbing over and under and around piles of garbage that had once been a house. There was an odd feeling in his leg, the only other thought that wasn't an urgent repeat of, "Find Damian!". But he quickly suppressed the feeling, because through the fog and dust and smoke, a tiny hand protruded from under a beam. Jason attempted to lift it, but couldn't. Damian was trapped under an air pocket, but any wrong movement would send it all crashing atop him.  A lever.  Jason searched desperately for a board or pole to use as a lever, but saw nothing. But then his eyes scanned over his own leg, and he had to look back at it.  His foot was quite literally facing the wrong way. The odd feeling vanished and became a sharp pain that nearly took his breath away.  Focus, Jason. The League had trained him as a sniper, and he was good at it. He excelled, even.  But all snipers knew how to do one thing. Hyperfixate. And that skill, with the help of adrenaline, might just save both his and Damian's lives.  Jason looked around the room once again, eyeing the position of the beam that Damian was under. If he could manage to get across the rubble, he could crawl into the air pocket and rescue Damian. Jason pulled his body up and over rubble, ignoring the extreme pain that was now burning through his body. At some point, that white agony would get the best of him, but for now, adrenaline was masking most of it.  "Damian!" Jason called again, nearly falling over a piece of wall. His broken leg slammed into a sheet of metal, which dislodged. The beam began sliding, and Jason screamed, unwillingly. He felt his legs propelling him towards where his brother lay, and he pulled Damian into his arms and cringed as the beam fell down around them.  "Damian...Dames." Jason panted as the dust settled, smoothing the dirt off his brother's pale face. The baby was too pale. He had to get him out of here. The falling rubble was controlling the fire, but smoke inhalation would kill them. And Damian had been unconscious for far too long, but there wasn't a single scratch on the child to evidence any injuries. Jason growled in frustration. "Damn it!" His entire body hurt, his leg most of all. Adrenaline was wearing off...the pain was mixing with the green light of the pit, and together they nearly blinded him.  Rage, and pain. Great combination.  He looked around for a way out. It was like a grave. Tight, and hard to breathe.  No Jason.  No.  His breath caught, and he knew he'd just screwed up. There wasn't enough air in his lungs, and he could breathe it in quickly enough. He clutched Damian to his chest and tried to get in a breath, to no avail.  Whimpers punctuated his breath, and the rational part of him could have laughed at himself.  But he couldn't. Whimpers turned to screams, and nothing made sense anymore. He screamed the only name he knew would come for him. "Bruce! Bruce, please!" He could hear his own screams dying out, feel himself losing a grip on consciousness. "Dad! Dad...Bruce…" His voice rasped into a whisper, and he gritted his teeth. "Batman! Dad! I need you! Please...please dad!"  Not a soul

stirred.  "That's right. He's not coming for you." Joker whispered sadistically.  Jason shook his head desperately, tears mixed with blood running down his face. "Shut up, you stupid clown! Please! Bruce. Bruce! Please!"  Like a miracle on Christmas eve, a ray of light shone into their prison, and a familiar shadow fell across Jason, along with another pound of dust. Damian wailed, and Jason shielded himself and the child against the dust, then spiraled into an exhausted darkness.  Four hours later, he pulled himself out of the pit of unconsciousness. "Dami?" Jason slurred, exhausted.  "He's fine, Jay. With Alfred."  That voice.  Jason made an attempt to bolt upright, only to find that he was secured to the bed.  "You have two broken legs, five ribs, son." Bruce muttered, undoing the restraints.  They must have given him some hefty painkillers, since he could feel nothing. "Call me son again-" Jason snarled, his voice cracked and dry. "How am I your son, if you had the nerve to let him live?! I gave you the choice last night, Bruce. Save me, or save him. You threw a batarang at my throat instead."  "Jason-" Bruce looked wounded, his jaw working with words he didn't know how to say.  "No! You don't get to "Jason" me. Not after what you did. You don't deserve to have your son."  "Jason."  Jason looked up at Bruce. "What?"  "I put a batarang in your throat?"  Disbelief surged through Jason. "You didn't know? All those years of aiming those damn things, and you didn't know?" Bruce's face was as stone cold as ever. "No." Jason had probably imagined the look of sorrow on his father's face. It wasn't like Jason meant anything to him anymore. "It only nicked me, lucky for you. Doesn't even matter, I'm alive. Surprising, isn't it? You wanted me dead and him alive. What, you got a crush on him?" He looked away, unwilling to meet Bruce's eyes.  "I hate him, Jason. I just can't kill him."  "You screwed me over Bruce. All this," Jason gestured to himself, "Is your fault."  "You have a son, Jason." Bruce said softly.  "He's not my son. He's my brother." Jason replied, tone dark. "He's your son."  There was a dead silence that almost resonated. Jason chanced a look at Bruce.  For once in his life, the man looked truly stunned.  Did he break him? "Bruce…?"  "Talia's child?" Bruce whispered.  "Yes." A sudden whim forced him to add, "And you can't have him. You're not going to get him killed too." "I wasn't going to make him a Robin."  "Cut the bullcrap, Bruce!" Jason screamed, startling both himself and Bruce. "Yeah, maybe I almost got us both killed, but I've never put a gun or a batarang in his hand and told him to throw it!"  Bruce hesitated before speaking. "It wasn't your fault. The city was destroying a building, and the explosion shook the foundation of other buildings. I couldn't get to you two as quickly as I should have. I'm sorry, Jaybird." Bruce sighed. Sorry. Sorry doesn't cut it, Bruce, Jason wanted to say. "Whatever, Bruce.", was all that came from his throat. "Not the first time you've forgotten me, anyways."  "If I had known-"  Rage surged through Jason. "Save it! Why the hell is he still alive? That's my only question. Why. Isn't. He. Dead? Don't kill him. Fine. But let me kill him. Look at Barbara! Isn't what he did to me enough?! When will it be enough, Bruce? When he murders Damian?" Hands gripped Jason's shoulders, and he stopped his tirade. "Son…" Bruce began, then stopped. Jason could feel his face crumple, not a word slipping past his dry lips. "I can't kill him, Jason. I can't let myself go off that edge. "You failed me, Bruce. When will it be enough?"  Bruce didn't answer. Jason swallowed against the knot in his throat and spoke roughly. "I just want him dead. All I ever wanted was to make you proud...then you left me with him. That, the abandonment, it doesn't even hurt anymore, but I wanted you to kill him. For me." Jason's face twisted into a scowl that thankfully repressed the tears. "Make him die." He spat. "I can't, Jason. I'm sorry Jason. It's meaningless, but I'm

so sorry." Bruce looked physically pained.  He's acting, Jason told himself. "If you're sorry, don't let him hurt anyone else."  "I can't promise that."  "I know you can't. But I can!" Jason yelled, finally. But instead of his rage getting the best of him, it all just evaporated. He felt nauseated, as if someone had punched him in the gut. But all he vomited up were words, words that he shouldn't say. "All I ever wanted was to make you proud...then you left me with him. I don't care about that...but didn't you care about me?"  Bruce's expression darkened to something that Jason had never seen before. "I put the Joker in a body cast for a year. That permanent limp he has is evidence of it. I couldn't bring myself to murder him, because in his dead eyes, all I saw was myself in him. And it was all too peaceful. He tortured you for months. I'll torture him for the rest of his life." Bruce said the words like a vow, determination lacing his tone. Jason stared straight ahead in shock. Silence settled over the room.  "You-when was Joker dead?" Jason finally asked, almost dreading the answer.  "Dick killed him when he found out what happened. I couldn't let him live with the remorse, so I revived him." "Dick….killed him." Jason repeatedly slowly, almost dumbly. He wanted to feel anger that Bruce had brought the damn clown to life, but he couldn't.  "He always had a temper." Bruce said lamely.  Oh great, both of them were shutting down their emotions and verbalization. "Didn't think he'd go that far." "I did. He loves you, Jason."  "Don't talk to me about Grayson. He managed to do what I've been trying to do." Jason managed a rough laugh. "Isn't it funny, Bruce?" Bruce only stared at him, a near pitiful expression on his face.  It wasn't until Bruce hugged him that Jason realized that there were hot tears streaking down his cheeks. Slowly, Jason hugged back, blinking back the stinging wetness of his eyes.  This, all this 'emotional seminar with the Batman' was a total mistake. So Jason let go of Bruce and pushed him a little to regain personal space.  Bruce unsurprisingly was fine with taking back his boundaries. "You're doing alright, Jaylad. You took in a son that wasn't yours and you're raising him."  "I took him in for all the wrong reasons." Jason bit his tongue. "And what are your reasons now?"  "Touchè."  Parents...and adoptive older brothers make mistakes with kids. They fail them and screw them up. But Jason's mistakes with Damian could be fixed.  Jason couldn't. Not until the clown died. "You can always make the present better than the future." Bruce said.  Dammit, old man. "Whatever." Valid points.  Very valid points. "Who else trained you in manipulation?"  Bruce just looked confused. Either this was more manipulation, or Bruce being bipolar by the days.  Whichever one, Jason would try his luck. It was a mistake, destined for disaster.  But he just couldn't help himself.

[pregnant-piggy]

A little elf

Ron Weasley x reader

This is part of All I want for Christmas is fanfiction

Words: 2.5k

Warnings: pregnancy, slight mention of abortion

A/N: I’m back with a pregnancy-fic (gotta be true to my url in some way). This fic is all support and Ron’s soft and protective side

As the skies grew more pale outside, the rain and wind of the autumn made place for the cold and ice of the winter. Grass turned dry and died out, leafs had fallen of the trees and froze overnight. Icicles hung from the corners of buildings if it had frozen and the roads were getting slippery.

The shops had taken out their Christmas decorations and red and green adorned the streets. Fairy lights had been hung in trees and gardens flickered at night with colours shows in the shape of reindeers and fat Santa’s. At some houses Christmas trees were already standing in living rooms and cringe texts hung behind windows. Children dressed as angels went past streets, singing Christmas carols to whoever passed.

Normally you loved to walk outside at night and look at all the decorations. Countless of rounds you had made around the block with Ron every December. You knew which houses did what for Christmas, which ones were the first to put up the tree and which families always forgot and then put up the lights on Christmas Eve.

However, tonight none of the decorations were noticed by you as you walked home. With your hands in gloves in your pockets and your scarf tightly around your neck, you walked as slow and fast as possible; wanting to get home as fast as possible yet not wanting to get there at all.

Faint carols reached your ears as you turned around the corner to the street of your house. Halfway on the street stood the choir you hadn’t seen yet this December. You had gotten to know the leader a few years ago and feared you wouldn’t get out of a conversation when you walked by.

You took a halt in front of the choir and listened to the children together with some of your neighbours. Mrs and Mr Sanchez, the couple that lived next door, stood listening happily with their arms around each other. You watched them for a while as the choir sang ‘O Holy Night’.  

And indeed as you had thought, the leader of the choir, Francis, walked over to you after she had told the children to continue to sing.

‘Hey, y/n, long time no see!’ Francis happily said.

‘Hello, Francis,’ you nodded. You weren’t exactly feeling as ‘jolly’ as one might be in such a scene, but you conjured a smile on your face for the woman in front of you. ‘How are you?’

‘Busy, busy, busy,’ Francis said. ‘We are booked full for December. I don’t think I have a day off. But that doesn’t matter!’ she quickly added. ‘I enjoy working with these children so much. I believe they truly are my Christmas miracle!’

A bit more genuine smile came to your face. Francis was someone who was grateful for everything that was going on in her life. She enjoyed every second of her life and made sure she did plenty of things that she could look back at when she was old and grey and stuck in a chair at a retirement home. You loved to listen to Francis’ enthusiasm. Though you didn’t see her very often, because she was indeed always busy, the times you did see her you always were happy.

‘Is Ron not here? You usually come together,’ Francis noticed and the smile fell off your face.

‘He was busy,’ you lied, putting the fake smile back on your lips. You glanced around. ‘Are you coming back here?’ you asked, hoping to change the subject.

‘One more time, on Christmas Eve,’ Francis said.

‘I’ll make sure to come and bring you some snacks.’

‘They would love that,’ Francis sighed. One of the children signed for her and she had to leave you alone. ‘I’ll talk to you soon, y/n.’

‘See you soon.’ Francis went back to the choir and you turned around and walked to your house.

The light in the kitchen was on and a yellowish glow shone on the bare bushes in your little front yard. In the spring and summer they would be full with flowers and green leafs, but in the autumn and winter they lost their beauty.

Taking a deep breath you put your key in the lock and opened the door. The hall was dark and the door to the kitchen closed, only a stripe of light coming from the crack between the door and the floor. When you closed the front door behind you and put on the light, something dropped in the kitchen and a moment later the door was opened to reveal Ron.

He was wearing the apron you had gotten from your great aunt, one with little flowers and bees. His cheeks were red and there was a smudge of flour on one of them. The red locks that needed a haircut, though you actually liked it better like this, were standing in all ways, like it looked when he woke from a rough night. On his lips played a relaxed smile, that soon dropped as he noticed your tense state and worried eyes.

‘What’s the matter, sweetheart?’ he asked and quickly walked over to you to help you take of your coat.

While he turned around to the coat rack, you answered. ‘I’m pregnant.’

Ron dropped your coat on the floor and he spun around. His eyes were big and his jaw dropped. He stared at you for a second, before a big grin formed on his face.

‘That’s amazing! You’re pregnant? We’re gonna have a baby?’

‘No, it’s not! We aren’t prepared! There’s no room in our lives for a baby! What about our jobs? And our friends? We can’t just come over with a baby! Our lives would change so much!’

Ron took your hands and tried to look you in the eye, but you kept your gaze at the ground. He pulled you in an embrace and a tear escaped your eye. His hand rubbed soothing circles on your back and his lips were pressed against the top of your head.

Ron brought you to the kitchen and sat you down on a chair. He turned the stove off and gave you a glass of water before he took place opposite of you. He waited until you had drank the water and then took your hand over the table, forcing you to look him in the eye.

‘Listen, I am not forcing you to have this baby. It is your body and your decision and I am no one to change that. But I also want you to realise that this could be a good thing. Can you imagine how our lives would be if we had a little one running around? A happy baby, part you, part me. And it won’t be so difficult with jobs, you could even just keep yours the way it is now if you want. I won’t mind working less, I actually was thinking of already doing so. It is scary, but we will make it work.’

Ron squeezed your hand and you chuckled softly while the tears were streaming down your face. Ron got up from his chair and sat down in his knees in front of you. He wiped away the tears from your face and pressed a kiss to both your hands.

‘I am not asking you to make a decision right now, sweetheart,’ he said. ‘But just think about it. I will be happy with whatever you decide, as long as I am with you.’

You smiled tilting your head as you watched Ron get up and continue with dinner. His words had put your mind to work, but you pushed it aside for now, feeling that your emotions would influence the decision.

For the rest of the evening you talked with Ron about other things. You told him about Francis and the choir and he talked about his work and the new invention George had made. Of course you couldn’t just forget you were pregnant, but you just didn’t pay much attention to it and you noticed neither did Ron.

A part of you felt guilty for the burden you had placed on his shoulders. He had seemed so excited when you told him you were pregnant and the look on his face when you told him that you weren’t ready was still fresh in your mind.

Ron had sensed how you were feeling, like he always could. At night as you lied in the dark in bed, his hand took yours and he gave a little squeeze.

‘Don’t feel guilty, sweets,’ he said. ‘I am happy with or without a baby. Really. I support you whatever you decide.’

‘Thank you,’ you said with a hoarse voice. ‘I love you.’

‘I love you more.’

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For a few days you and Ron didn’t talk about it. You both just went your normal ways, doing what you normally did. But that didn’t mean that you didn’t think about it. In contrary, it was all you could think about. You tried not to show it too much to Ron, but you knew he noticed. He was a little more gentle towards you, making sure there wasn’t anything to worry about at home or making sure you were comfortable.

Those days you barely slept. You ate little and felt nauseous with every smell. You were always cold, but whenever you put on a jumper you were hot. Your lips were cracked and your eyes dull. Your skin was breaking out and with every hand that you brushed through you hair, you pulled along hairs.

On the fourth day of all this, you had called in sick from work. After you had reassured Ron that you would be fine on your own and that he could just go to work, you were alone for the first time in a week.

Your plan was to just stay in bed all day, but an hour or so after Ron left you got antsy and wanted to do something. Your bed was uncomfortable and warm and you couldn’t lie in it for another second anymore. So you shuffled downstairs in a pair or leggings and one of Ron’s jumpers. You made some breakfast for yourself and after that sat in the living room staring at the TV for a while.

If you had watched TV the whole time or had fallen asleep, you didn’t know, but around lunch time you startled awake. You turned off the TV and decided to go for a walk.

It was snowing outside and the world glistened with little crystals. It wasn’t so cold that the streets were slippery; the snowflakes only lied on the ground for a second before they melted. Soon your hair was wet from the snow and your cheeks cold, but you didn’t mind. The cold, fresh air did you good.

In the park close to your house you sat down on a bench and watched the people around you. There was an elderly couple walking arm in arm with each other. Two businessmen sat on a bench not far from you. They were talking about something you didn’t understand and you frankly didn’t care about.

The park was fairly empty for the time of the day. Normally it was full of people that would take a little stroll at lunch time, especially in the holiday month. But today it was empty and you liked it so.

You sat on the bench for a while, just staring ahead of you, until you were started by a woman with a stroller.

‘Can I sit here?’ she asked and you nodded at her. The woman flashed you a smile and sat down next to you, turning the stroller around so the child in it was facing whom you assumed to be their mother.

You paid little attention to the people next to you. Or at least you tried to. The mother had started to talk to the baby while giving them little bites from a piece of bread. The baby giggled when the woman started to make funny faces and you couldn’t help but smile.

The baby looked at you, when their mother turned to take something from her bag, and made grabbing hands to you. You chuckled and stuck out your tongue to the child. They copied you and chirred with excitement.

‘She seems to like you. Usually she’s not like that with strangers,’ the woman said when she turned back. ‘Do you have kids?’

‘Uh, no…’ you said and flashed the woman a quick smile.

‘I’m not judging you!’ the mother said quickly. ‘It’s just usually mothers who make her feel comfortable. Maybe you just have a special talent.’

You laughed and shook your head. ‘No, I don’t think that is it.’

‘Well, at least you made her happy,’ the woman said while she got up. ‘It was nice to meet you.’

‘You too,’ you said and smiled at the mother and waved at the baby. You watched them walk away and then got up yourself. With renewed confidence you walked home and for the first time since you had heard that you were pregnant, you felt happy.

}|}{|}{|{

That evening you had taken a hot bath, soaking off all the negativity you had been holding for the past days. You were standing in front of the mirror in your underwear and stared at your belly. Your finger was tracing your skin lightly, as if you were tickling the baby that was growing inside of you.

‘Sweets? Where are you?’ Ron yelled from downstairs as soon as the door had shut behind him.

‘Up here,’ you said with a distant voice as you kept staring at your mirror image.

Loud and fast footsteps were heard on the stairs and Ron came bursting into the bedroom. Worry stood on his face and he was panting lightly. You looked up confused to him.

‘Are you okay?’ he asked and the anxiety left his face as you nodded. ‘Why are you standing there?’

You shrugged as you looked at yourself in the mirror. Your hand had dropped from your stomach and was now hanging along your body. Ron took of his coat and stood behind you. He rested his cold hands on your shoulders and you hissed.

‘Oh, sorry,’ he muttered but when he tried to take his hands away you kept them there.

You looked at Ron through the mirror and smiled at him. ‘I made a decision.’

Ron froze and you turned around so you could look at him. He looked at you with big eyes and you took his hands, placing them around your waist. You wrapped your arms around his neck.

‘We’re having a baby,’ you whispered softly.

Ron stared and after a few seconds swallowed. ‘We’re having a baby?’

You nodded and giggled at Ron’s anxious face. He started to smile and pulled you close against his chest. His hands on your back were cold and his cheek in your neck too, but you held onto him. For minutes you stood like that, until Ron turned you back to the mirror and wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, resting his hands on your lower-stomach. His touch sent shivers down your spine and sparkles through your veins.

‘We’re gonna be parents,’ you said.

‘We’re gonna be the best parents,’ Ron said.

- - - - - -

Taglist:

General HP: @kitkatkl @girllety @yuptha-tsme @sleep-i-ness @iamak20 @thefuturelawyer @weasleydream @missmulti @deafgirltingz @moonstarrnghtsky @mytreec @lilulo-12fanfiction @emmaloo21 @kashishwrites @ananad1 @figlia--della--luna @kylosleftbuttcheek @mrs-malfoy-always @thefandomplace @magicwithaknife @mt2413 @aesthetically-hailey @superbturtlemakerathlete @the-natureofme @missswriter

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[favefandomimagines]

Christmas Miracle (f.w.)

Summary: Christmas miracles ring true when your family invites you and your boyfriend over for Christmas Eve.

AN: in this world, there’s no return of Voldy, though Lucius still gets sent to Azkaban, i just needed him gone lol i’m also gonna start adding word count to my stuff, especially the long ones. 

WC: 1995

The holidays were coming up and for most people, that meant going home to see their families. You, however, had been properly disowned for falling in love with a Weasley. Your brother, Draco Malfoy, was more than pleased to snitch on you when he caught you holding hands with the oldest twin, Fred, at the end of your fifth year. 

You were the favorite child before your disgraceful relationship came to the attention of your parents, specifically your father. His words to you, “don’t think about coming home after term is over.” And you didn’t. Molly Weasley was more than happy to make you feel at home. She could tell right off the bat that you resembled traits of your aunt Andromeda. Blood status was the last thing on your mind when it came to love and Fred was the person you wanted to be with. 

Your relationship started off quite cliche. He saw your last name and instantly thought you were just like your brother. Fowl, cruel, thought of nothing but blood supremacy. But when he accidentally got the two of you thrown into detention, he realized you were quite the opposite. You were sweet, kind, caring, and the smartest person he had ever met. You then told him you were sorted into Slytherin based on your last name. After that, the rest was history. 

After the twins left, you did exactly what your father told you. Not to come home. So you moved in with the twins at their joke shop. You’ve been there ever since you were cast out of your family.

The holidays were always the hardest without your family. Your mother would send you letters every now and then but nothing that seemed like an olive branch. Of course you were incredibly grateful to be spending the holidays at the Burrow but it wasn’t the same. 

“Are you ready to go, love?” Fred asked, stepping into your shared room. He saw the empty suitcase on the bed as you sat by the window, watching the snow fall. “Is it wrong to expect at least something from them?” You asked him. “No, it’s not wrong. They’re your family. Which is still a mystery to me because you’re nothing like them.” He answered. 

You smiled at his attempt to make you feel better as you stood up. “You do have to pack though, darling. No house elves here to do it for you.” Fred teased. “Ha ha very funny.” You replied sarcastically. You sorted through your clothes and sent them into your suitcase. 

Fred and you made small talk until you saw your mother’s owl land on your windowsill. Fred saw the look on your face as you looked at the animal before grabbing the piece of parchment from its beak. 

“What is it?” Fred asked. “Y/N, I am regretfully sorry as to how your father treated you. Your brother as well. You are so much like your aunt, I don’t know how I didn’t see it coming. If you could ever forgive me, I’d like to invite you and Mr.Weasley to the Manor for Christmas Eve dinner. I miss you, Y/N, you are my only daughter. Love, mum.” You read aloud. 

Silence fell upon the room, neither you nor Fred finding the proper reaction for this news. “Do we go?” He asked. “I-I don’t know.” You stammered. “If she reached out, that means father is still in Azkaban. She was always scared of him.” You added. “Do you want to go?” Fred questioned. 

Again, silence. Though Fred could see on your face that you were heavily considering it. “Y/N, it’s okay if you want to go. I’m sure mum will understand us missing an hour or two of the festivities.” He added. “You want to go?” You asked him. 

“I find it to be the polite thing to do to meet your mother if I plan on spending the rest of my life with her daughter.” He answered. That was all you needed to hear to wash away any doubt. Of course you were still terrified to go but having Fred by your side would make things bearable. 

You apparated to the Burrow and broke the news to the rest of the family. Molly was pleased that your mother was making an effort to see you after the cruel things your father had told you. Of course the other siblings had their doubts. They had grown quite fond of you since you’ve been dating Fred. 

Christmas Eve came quicker than you wanted and you were standing in front of the mirror overlooking your outfit. “You look beautiful.” Fred’s voice announced, knocking you out of your daze. “Really? Are you sure it’s good enough?” You questioned. 

Fred walked over to you and forced you away from the mirror and made you look up at him. “You’re the most beautiful woman I have ever laid my eyes on. You’re perfect.” He told you. You nodded your head and swallowed the nervous lump in your throat. 

The two of you apparated in front of the manor and everything soon became very real. “Are we actually doing this?” You asked, looking up at your boyfriend. “Only if you’re comfortable.” Fred answered. “That is no help.” You muttered, though Fred knew you were joking. 

The large doors to the Manor opened and there stood your younger brother. “Y/N. Weasley.” He sneered. “Draco.” You greeted him back. “Draco, dear, let them inside.” Your mother’s voice came from behind him. 

He stepped aside to let you and Fred in the large house but not before glaring at the two of you. “Y/N, my darling, it’s so good to see you.” Your mother said. “You too, mother. This is Fred Weasley, my boyfriend.” You introduced. “It’s great to meet you, Mrs. Malfoy.” Fred said. “Yes, you as well.” Narcissa replied. 

The awkward small talk in the foyer was a good time for Fred to notice the striking similarities there are between you and your mother. You had the same striking blue eyes, a common theme in the Malfoy line. As well as the same striking bone structure. 

The couple were guided to the large dining room and sat at their place at the table. “So, my dear, how have you been? Have you been alright?” Narcissa asked. “Yes, I’ve been great. I have a job at the Ministry. In the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office, ironically enough.” You answered. 

News of your occupation caused your brother to let out a scoff. “Is there a problem, Draco?” You asked him. “Funny is all. Working with Muggle artifacts as a pureblood witch.” He answered. “Arthur Weasley got me the job. And I am more than qualified for it. If you’d get your head out of your own ass, you’d find it’s quite interesting.” You snapped. 

Fred used every ounce of strength he had to stifle the laugh at your comment. “Y/N, Draco, enough. This was supposed to be a nice evening.” Narcissa intervened. “Fred, what do you do for a living?” She asked the redhead. “I own a joke shop in Diagon Alley with my twin brother, George.” Fred answered. “Ah and how is that doing?” She asked him. “Quite well. Most of our customers are students at Hogwarts. McGonagall probably isn’t thrilled she can’t get rid of us.” He joked. 

You smiled at him before shooting your brother another glare. “And does that make good money?” Draco asked. “Draco,” Narcissa warned. “It makes enough.” Fred answered. “Hope it’s enough for you, Y/N. She is used to quite a different lifestyle if you hadn’t noticed.” Draco added. 

“Draco, will you shut it? This is why I did not want to come. Father has drilled his insane blood purity beliefs into your head and look where he ended up. I’m not dating a muggleborn! And even if I were, who cares as long as I’m happy? Fred is a good man who makes me very happy. Now I understand why Aunt Dromeda is much happier away from this family.” You yelled. “Love, it’s alright.” Fred whispered to you, taking your hand in his. 

Narcissa was always aware of how much like her sister you were. The same temper and all. When you were a child, you’d throw tantrums and nothing could calm you down. So when Narcissa saw how Fred could give you a small amount of peace, she decided to push her own beliefs aside. If you were happy, that’s what mattered to her. 

“Draco, you will apologize to your sister this instant. As will I. Because we have all been unfair to her and her relationship with Fred. I am so sorry, my dear. Your happiness is the most important thing to me and if Fred makes you happy, then I’m happy.” Narcissa said. 

You knew that Draco was always putting up a facade to make his father not so angry with him. You used to do that too, but didn’t like it made you treat people. Your father has despised you ever since for it. You didn’t want Draco to make the same mistake you did. 

“Draco, may I speak with you for a moment?” You asked your brother. He only nodded his head in response. You gave Fred’s hand a squeeze before going to the hall with Draco. 

“What?” He asked. “Stop doing what he wants you to do. Do you like bullying people? Being the most hated person at Hogwarts?” You said to him. “Well, no.” He said bashfully. “Then stop trying to please him. He’s not here. And odds are, he’s not getting out. Start living the life you want to live.” You said. 

Meanwhile, in the dining room, Fred fell into a conversation with Narcissa. “Mrs. Malfoy, can I talk with you about something?” He asked. “Of course.” Narcissa answered. “I love your daughter. She’s made me a better person and I couldn't imagine going on without her. And I’d like your permission to ask her to marry me.” Fred said. 

Narcissa had been waiting for that moment since the day you were born. It was hard not to get choked up at the fact that even though you and your family were at odds, he still respected them enough to ask for their permission. 

“Of course you have my permission, Fred. You make her very happy, a mother knows. And I have just the perfect ring for you.” She said before getting up from the table. 

She was back in a couple of seconds with a small box in hand. “This was the ring my parents set aside for my sister Andromeda. I’m sure you’ve heard a lot about her. They cast her out before she could get it. But Y/N has loved this ring since she was little. And I think she’d really love it.” Narcissa said, opening the box. 

Draco hadn’t said anything to your comment before you walked back out into the dining room. Fred closed the box quickly and shoved it in his pocket. 

“I’m sorry, mother. But the Weasley’s are expecting us back soon for presents. It was good to see you.” You announced. “Of course my dear. I’m hoping we’ll be seeing you soon.” Narcissa said, rising from the table. 

You gave her a light hug as Draco returned from the hall. “Weasley,” He called. Fred looked to him, as did everyone in the room. “Take care of her.” He finished. Fred nodded his head and extended his hand for a handshake. Draco took it and you smiled gratefully at him. 

“You both will need to come over another time for tea.” Narcissa offered. “That sounds nice, mother. Thank you for inviting us.” You said. 

After a few more goodbyes, you and Fred apparated back to the Burrow. “What the bloody hell just happened?” You asked him. “It was a Christmas miracle, darling.” Fred answered.

[idyllicstarker]

here's a Christmas prompt for you ;) how do you feel about Peter telling Tony he won't be home in time for Christmas (maybe he's on a trip? at MIT?) but then showing up on Christmas to surprise Tony

I may have turned the prompt a little, but I hope it’s still close to what you asked for 💖

***

Warnings: none

“I was thinking we could maybe watch Elf, tomorrow - Christmas Eve is for cheesy Christmas films after all.”

Peter’s apprehensive gaze eyed the screen on his laptop, completely illuminated by Tony’s face. It was evident by how timid the question was, he knew his suggestion was a long shot - he didn’t want to make Tony anymore mad then he already seemed, but he also didn’t want the holidays to be a complete bummer because of his own faults.

Tony looked up, presumably from his work bench in the lab, eyes settling on the grainy pixels that made up Peter. He had a blanket wrapped around him, having expressed many times that the heater in the dorm pretty much did nothing at all. Tony could tell he was sad. He could tell he felt guilty at not being able to be there over Christmas. But it didn’t mean Tony felt any better about the whole ordeal.

“You’re really expecting to be able to stream and video chat with me at the same time - with your crappy wifi?”, Tony asked, looking back down to whatever work he was completing.

Peter should be used to the man getting distracted during their evening calls. Most of the time Peter didn’t have his camera on anyway, not when his roommate, Harley, was around. But that didn’t stop the pang of hurt in his chest upon seeing Tony so nonchalant about it.

“Well I don’t think it will be that slow. Harley’s gone back to his family for winter break, and most of the dorm isn’t here either”, he muttered quietly. His revision notebook sat untouched on his lap, nervously rolling his pen between his thumb and index finger.

“You know I never used to like Harley, so I can’t believe I’m saying this but you should be more like him.”

Frustrated tears began to form in Peter’s eyes at Tony’s bluntness. But the man still refused to even look over at the screen.

“You know this isn’t my fault”, Peter whispered, it hurt that Tony was pinning the blame on him. How was he supposed to know the weather was going to stop flights?

“If you’d just gotten the flight when I’d told you too we’d be able to watch Elf together on Christmas Eve, on my couch. But no, you wanted to stay for an extra few days”, Tony hissed. The darkness of the screen made his brown eyes almost black, and Peter flinched at the look of absolute betrayal on the man’s face.

“You know I wanted to go to the party”, he said quietly, shaking his head, “I couldn’t have ever known it was going to snow this much.”

“Yes because a party is much more important than your boyfriend-”

“You’re being selfish…”

“Oh! I’m being selfish Peter? You promised to be here, and you’re not. That’s what’s selfish. You told me not to decorate because you said you wanted to do it with me. There’s not an ounce of Christmas cheer in this place, and now I don’t even want to do it. You know how much I hate the holidays because Maria and Howard were never around. I never had that. I never had a nice Christmasz You promised you were going to be here.. to help me experience that, and what have you done.. you’ve let me down. You told me five minutes ago there was literally no way for you to get back in time with the way it’s snowing, and you’re really expecting me to just be okay. That’s what's selfish.”

He leaned forward quite abruptly, and Peter heard the rough click of his keyboard, before his camera turned off. He was still on the call, but clearly didn’t want to be seen. So what Peter didn’t know was that the man was wiping roughly under his eyes, trying to rid himself of any tears.

Speechless, the younger male looked over the blank screen, his own expression hurt. He knew Tony was right, he’d given a lot of promises he wasn’t able to keep. He sighed, moving to turn his own camera off and therefore giving him the relief to let the tears fall. He sank down into his bed, cuddling the blanket to his chest and burying his cold nose into it.

“I’m sorry”, he muttered, because honestly he didn’t know what else to say.

“Yeah so am I”, Tony’s voice rang out through his speaker, heavy with emotion yet the feedback didn’t quite pick that up distinctly.

Silence followed. A heavy, emotional silence that Peter didn’t know how to fill to get it to stop weighing down on his chest like that. He swallowed thickly, licking at his lips.

There was a sudden fast paced typing, as Peter sniffled before finally Tony spoke again.

“It says the snow’s going to stop on the twenty sixth. There’s no planned flights, but I’ll take the jet instead”, as if predicting Peter’s disagreement with that, he continued: “But only if it’s stopped completely. And If one of my pilots is willing. I don’t want to take them away from their family, a hefty pay rise would be in order…”, by the way he trailed off Peter knew he wasn’t really talking to him anymore.

He sighed out quietly, nodding his head solemnly before realising Tony still couldn’t see him.

“Okay”, he agreed, clearly his throat as he shifted in the bed, pulling his laptop to him and turning on the camera. He waited a few seconds, but Tony didn’t do the same. Nervously he chewed on his lip, and closed his eyes.

“How’s your foot?”, he asked quietly.

A couple of days ago Tony had dropped a hammer on it. He was lucky, it wasn’t broken, but it was swollen. If it wasn’t for that maybe he would have been able to drive down to get Peter. But he couldn’t.

“It’s fine," Tony replied gruffly, “healing..”, he mumbled after a moment. No matter how he was feeling right now, he didn’t want Peter to worry.

“Oh, that’s good.”

It seemed all attempts at initiating conversation again was futile. The guilt he felt was unlike any other. He had promised, and honestly if he knew it was going to end up this way he never would have stayed the extra few days just so he could go to that party and leave when everyone else left. But now flights were cancelled and he was alone. Most people just managed to drive back. He couldn’t.

“I’m sorry for getting snappy with you”, Tony sighed out after a long moment. “I know it’s not your fault. You couldn’t have predicted this. And besides your young - you want that college experience. I don’t blame you for taking it over your old boyfriend…”, he seemed to laugh at the end, but he sounded solemn more than anything. It wasn’t a humoured or a happy laugh, it was quite broken.

“That’s not true Tony”, he tried to justify, clutching his blanket to his chest. “I’d rather be with you then anywhere else. I made a mistake.. a big one”

He half expected Tony to agree but he actually didn’t get a reply. The only indication that he was actually still there was the faint tapping of his keyboard through the speaker.

“I don’t feel too good”, Peter said after a moment, “I think I’m gonna get some sleep. I’ll text you in the morning…?”, he mumbled, the last part more of a question than anything. Even if it was Christmas Eve tomorrow, Tony didn’t look like he was going to forgive him anytime soon.

He was right in thinking such, getting only a low grunt from the man. Peter had to cough to hide his quiet sob.

“Goodnight”, he spoke meekly, voice shaking as he quickly ended the call.

***

If Peter could feel his nose he may have turned around to Ned and laughed about it being a Christmas miracle.

It had taken five hours and driving that most definitely should have been illegal considering they couldn’t see for the most part, but he was here.

Craving comfort after his conversation with Tony last night, he turned to who he knew would never let him down - Ned. He hadn’t asked him to drive down in the middle of the night, to pick him up and take him here, he just did. No amount of panicking from Peter as he realised he’d gotten into his car had stopped him. And now he was here.

The sun was just beginning to rise. Neither of them had slept, but here they were, in front of the tower, in front of his home. Of course, it was still snowing heavily, and as he stepped out of the car, his trainers crunched satisfyingly against the blanket that covered the floor.

“Thanks dude, I don’t know what I’d do without you”, he said softly. His gratitude so strikingly evident in the way his voice softened as they pulled his cases and belongings for his stay from Ned’s trunk.

“Don’t worry about it. It was nice to have the catch up. I’ve missed you”, Ned said, shrugging his shoulders.

Peter didn’t mention the fact that they’d spent half the time screaming whenever they swerved, the tires not quite gripping onto the icy road in a way that comforted Peter enough to not be alert. Instead he simply nodded.

“You should come over, we’ll hang out like old times…”

When all of his stuff was on the pavement, and Peter was beginning to wish he’d put a hat on, he smiled over at his friend. They hugged for a moment, but Ned being tired from driving all night, and Peter eager to go see Tony, let each other go after a moment.

“Thanks man.”

Peter managed to get all of his stuff inside after Ned had left. He decided to let reception send it up, not wanting to haul it all in the elevator and instead just grabbed one small case and bounded over to the lift.

He wiped away at the wetness on his cheeks, and brushed off the snow flakes from his hoodie. He knew Tony would still be asleep, which meant he could go through with his plan easily.

“Friday, don’t alert Tony that I’m back please”, he spoke.

“Yes Mr Parker”, came the reply.

He thanked her quickly, running a hand through his damp hair as let out a deep breath and smiled as the elevator arrived on the floor.

***

“Ho Ho Ho! Good morning handsome”

Peter’s breath was warm against Tony’s cheek. Smelling faintly of chocolate (they’d had a bit of a feast on the way here) and ever so soft and gentle.

Tony blinked his eyes groggily, letting out a disgruntled sound as he lifted his head up to try and make out the sight that was currently hovering over him in the bed.

The small figure of his boyfriend that should definitely not be here, was straddling his torso with the widest grin. His cheeks were still flush from the cold outside, and atop his head was a cute little Santa hat.

“Christmas came early this year”, Peter hummed, shrugging innocently. “Unfortunately Peter Claus didn’t bring you any presents, but he thinks he’s the best gift of all”

Two seconds later and he was being tackled to the bed by a suddenly very much awake Tony. Peter giggled, squirming as Tony’s goatee scratched against his face and neck at all the kisses that were being peppered against his skin.

“How are you here? I thought there were no flights”, he was evidently elated at the sight of his partner.

“Poor old Ned drove all the way over, and then drove me all the way back. We’ve been driving all night. But it’s worth it. I’d rather spend Christmas with you then alone.”

As they both settled down, Peter wound his arms around Tony’s neck, cuddling up to his chest. The Santa hat sat lopsided on his head but he didn’t mind too much, all that mattered was that he was here.

“We’ll have to thank him later”, Tony concluded, pressing a soft kiss to Peter’s lips that the younger male returned eagerly.

“I’m glad you're here. I was worried, but this is the best Christmas gift I could ever get, you’re totally right”, he concluded after a moment of silence whilst they took in the feeling of finally being together again.

Peter nodded his head in agreement, a sleepy smile on his lips as he curled against his warmth.

“Merry Christmas Tony”, he mumbled softly.

“Merry Christmas my love.”

[hot-wiings]

The One Where Eijirou Has Yet To Buy You A Gift, And It's Christmas.

Slightly Suggestive.

Edited: 12-9-2020

Eijirou shifted around on his plush bed before resting his head back into his pillow. He had half a mind to reach out for your warm body and pull you into him. He wanted nothing more than to feel you flush against him as he fell back asleep, but he hadn't wanted to disturb your sleep. His alarm was set to go off any minute now and he would have to get up, shower, and leave for his hero agency. You wouldn't be up for a couple of more hours, working from home due to having a lax job at a hero support company, all you had to do was make sure your daughter ate and got to school on time.

Eijirou waited for his alarm. He waited and waited. Five minutes, then ten, and then that ten transitioned into fifteen. Every morning he woke up right when his alarm was set to go, or even sometimes slightly before. Never had he woken up this much earlier. His eyes cracked open and light flooded into the bedroom blinding him. It was way too early for this much light to be peering in, usually, when Eijirou woke up, it was still dark out and the sun was just rising as he got into his car.

"Crap."

Eijirou turned on his phone to see the clock displayed eight. He had overslept. Overslept by a bunch. He was supposed to be to work by six. He quickly pulled the blankets from his body as he attempted to get up from the bed but the movement had woken you up. You rolled over as Eijirou tried getting up, your arms wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer to yourself as you nuzzled your face in his chest.

"Where are you goin'?"

Your voice was light and groggy, sleep evident in your futures as Eijirou looked down at you. He tried his best to detangle your arms from his so he could get to the shower. Once he had you detached from himself, he tucked you back in by wrapping the blanket around you. He kissed your forehead quick and softly before getting off and standing at the edge of the bed.

"Babe, we overslept. You work from home today, right? Go back to sleep, I'll email [D/N]'s teacher, say she's sick or something, but I gotta go to work."

"Silly, did you forget what today is?"

"It's Wednesday?"

You gave your husband a throaty chuckle as you tore away his work by throwing the blankets he wrapped around you off. You pulled yourself to your knees and crawled to the edge of the bed where Eijirou stood. You slipped your arms around his shoulders and buried your face in his neck, hoping to entice him into coming back to bed.

"It's Christmas Eve. Remember last month you told me you were taking today and tomorrow off?"

"It's not Christmas Eve, that's not for a couple more weeks."

"Nope! It's today. I guess you've been so busy it just flew right past you?"

Guilt flooded Eijirou's chest as he wrapped his arms around your form, making you closer than you already were, pulling you completely against him. He had been very busy. The holidays were such a busy month for the heroes. There was the holiday depression rush, and then the villains who thought pulling shit over the holidays would be smart due to heroes trying to be home with their families. He had been so busy, working early in the morning before you woke up until late in the evening. He had been so busy he missed dinner and he'd only see you briefly when he accidentally woke you from the sound of him coming to bed. Apologetic as all, but you'd reassure him it was fine, reassure him you understood.

It wasn't fine. It wasn't okay. You were his wife and he'd been neglecting you and his daughter.

"I'm sorry I've been so busy, but I'm all yours and [D/N]'s for the rest of the week. I'll make you both my special pancakes, and we can make Christmas cookies."

"Good! We've missed you so much, you and your pancakes. Mhm, I can't wait to sit by the fire together and exchange gifts."

Your voice was soft, more awake now as you pressed sweet, little kisses against his neck and cheeks. Guilt flooded Eijiirou again. He had been so busy he hadn't had time to buy any gifts. You usually did the Christmas shopping and slapped his name on the presents, but he still had to buy a gift from himself for you. He thought he had time after black Friday rolled by, he kept putting it off for the next day, weeks away turned into days, and days turned into Christmas Eve.

"You're gonna be so mad at me."

"What? If you say you need to pop in the office I'll pop your nuts, I'm not joking."

Your hands that were wrapped around his body tightened and you gripped his shirt hard as you could, a feeble attempt to keep him there despite the fact he could easily break free.

"I- I forgot to get you a gift... I can still get one, I'll run to the store really quick!"

Your hands loosened at his confession and your chest tightened. It did hurt that he hadn't gotten you a gift, it hurt that he hadn't thought of you when you so carefully thought out his gift. It hurt, but you understood. You understood that when he was fighting a villain, you were not on his mind. You understood that your husband had to spend his days making the world a better place to live in, he did it for [D/N]. You understood that when he came home late, he didn't love you any less, he was protecting you and [D/N]. He did it for the both of you.

"I'm not mad Eiji. It's okay, Christmas isn't about gifts."

"No, it's not. It's not okay, it's very unmanly. You're my wife, I should have gotten you something. You should come first, but I kept putting it off."

You pulled your face out of his neck and pressed your lips against his. It was a long, passionate, hard kiss. One fulfilled with longing and love. It'd been so long since you had time to properly kiss him. It'd been so long since you shared a kiss that wasn't rushed before he hopped out the front door, so long since you shared a kiss that wasn't a chaste, good night kiss.

"I don't need a gift. That fact that you're alive is a miracle. I watch the news when you're out there, and I worry somethings gonna happen to you. Just being here with me and [D/N], that would be enough."

"You're too good to me. Completely perfect, and amazing. I don't deserve you."

You placed another deep kiss against Eijirou before pulling away and looking at the clock. You gave Eijirou a mischievous smile as your wandering fingers played with the hem of his pants.

"While I don't need a gift, [D/N] is still asleep and I can think of plenty of ways for you to make up for it."

"I'd very much like to make up for my lack of gift and neglect."

[scullydubois]

Only the Light Ch. 19

19/? | AU where Melissa moves in with Scully after Scully’s abduction | angst, msr slow-burn, occasional fluff | currently: mid-s3 (canon-divergent) | T | 5.3k | previous chapters | read on ao3 | tagging: @today-in-fic <3

Fate touches Scully's life, as does her own free will.

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

Can you still call something a miracle when you could not have gone on without it? When, if it hadn’t happened, the death knell would have sounded in your memory? Is that really a miracle, or is it just what had to occur? Certainly what keeps you breathing wouldn’t be so highly esteemed if the chips fell the other way. It would be called a tragedy, and no one wants to live in a world where every moment is caught between the two.

Scully existed there for a little while, but she’s escaped. Maybe for good. Because this--the Lace’s sacrifice, her signature on the adoption paper, her baby in her arms--is no miracle. This is God realizing she’s gotten her fair share, that he owes her a break. This is her fate.

In more normal circumstances, the foster family and the adoptive parent would have no contact. Social services would handle the transition. Since those barriers are already broken in Emily’s case, the state allows the Lace’s and their son to accompany Emily as she’s turned over to Scully. The nondescript woman in the polo shirt joins them as a witness to the custody change, and so they all find themselves at Bill Jr.’s house--of all places--for one grievous goodbye and a destined hello.

Mrs. Lace passes Emily to Scully moments after the family walks through the door. Her red-rimmed eyes reveal the depth of her agony. 

“Take her,” she says. “I need to start letting go while she’s still in my sight.”

Scully bites her lip, feels Emily’s pudgy hand press into her shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Lace. I can’t imagine how hard this must be. I’ll make good on my promise to send pictures and updates, I swear.”

“Thank you, Dana.” She sighs. “It’ll be an adjustment.”

Her husband taps the head of the little boy by his knee. “This is Andrew, our son. He wanted to make sure Emily has the best life possible, so he made you a guide to her favorite things.”

The boy--no more than five--holds up a construction paper booklet with crayon drawings of him and baby Emily. How To Mak My Sister Smile, his stilted handwriting reads. Scully’s heart skips a beat as she accepts it from him. She kneels down so he’s level with her and Emily. 

“Thank you, Andrew. This is so sweet and I’ll be sure to read every bit of it and make sure your sister smiles every single day, okay?”

He nods, but tears cloud his vision. 

Scully turns Emily so that she’s perched on her knee, facing Andrew. “Tell me--what’s your favorite thing to do with your sister?” she asks him softly. 

He rubs his eyes and nose. “I like to show her my cars,” he stammers.

“Your cars? Wow!” Scully effuses. It’s not often that she gets to work on her kiddie voice, and she’ll need that now.

The color returns Andrew’s face. “Yeah, yeah, my race cars! I have a mat for them, and I push them around the track, and she watches. She likes the races. They make her laugh sometime.” 

“Wow! You sound like a great big brother.”

“Yeah, and I like her bouncy thing too,” he sputters. “It was mine before.”

“An activity jumper,” Mr. Lace clarifies. “From Fisher-Price.”

“Ahh.” Scully’s happy to get any insight she can into her daughter’s early life. The Lace’s offered to send some toys with Emily, but Scully will only accept a couple onesies and Emily’s beloved stuffed rabbit. She doesn’t want to take any more from them than she already is.

She adjusts Emily on her knee, looks to Andrew. “Do you wanna give your sister a hug?”

“Okay.” He moves bashfully toward her and wraps his arms around Emily. He holds on until Emily begins to fuss, then steps back like he’s been caught sneaking away from time out. 

“Emily’s lucky to have a big brother like you,” Scully tells him. “Your parents have my phone number, and you can call and talk to her whenever you want, okay? I know she can’t say much yet, but she’ll grow into it, and besides, she’ll recognize your voice.” Scully offers him a spirit-boosting smile. “Does that sound good?”

He nods, hands linked behind his back. Stranger shyness has taken over.

“Good. She’s gonna need her big brother to stick up for her.”

Scully stands up, clutching Emily to her chest. 

“Mr. and Mrs. Lace,” Scully addresses them, “it’s impossible for me to sum up how deeply, deeply grateful I am for you and your sacrifice. It is no exaggeration to say that you have saved my life. I can already tell that Emily is so lucky to have been raised by you--that you have done an incredible job--and I hope that the two of us will continue to be a part of you and your son’s lives as Emily grows up.”

Mrs. Lace dabs her cheeks with a tissue. Mr. Lace frowns at his wife’s pain. “That means a great deal to us, Dana,” he replies. 

“We feel blessed to have led Emily through her formative months,” his wife murmurs through her tear-strickenness. 

The man nods. “She’s a wonderful kid, and I’m sure some of that comes from you.”

Scully smiles tautly. “I could say the same of you. Thank you for giving her the start I was denied from providing her.”

“You’ll let us know if you need any help, won’t you?”

“Of course. I’ll have your number on speed dial by the end of the night.”

The Lace’s formal goodbye had taken place at home, they said, and dragging out their visit would only make matters worse. They leave Bill Jr.’s house after a few short minutes, advancing down the front steps like a funeral procession.

When the door shuts and Scully’s baby is in her arms, she realizes that this will be her life for the rest of her life. What joy--! What horror--!

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

The heater’s gentle sigh provides a generous rush of white noise as the girls settle for sleep. It’s the time of year when San Diego’s nightly temperatures start drifting away from perfection, when sleeping with the windows open no longer has such appeal. According to Bill, it’s not cold enough to turn on the heating system (surprise, surprise) so he pulled a dusty space heater from the closet for the “girl’s room” to share. Like a gentleman, Mulder took the couch (as if he had any other option), leaving Scully, Missy, and now Emily with the guest room. A family affair, one generation rounded out by another.

It’s a convenient arrangement, really. Bill doesn’t have a crib and it’s not worth buying one for a single night, so Emily will be sleeping on the bed like a grown-up. If Missy weren’t there as a physical barrier, Scully would be taking the chance that Emily might roll off the unattended side. Instead, the little girl’s mother and aunt will be an arm’s length away for her first sleep with her new family. A symbolic gesture of the protection they hope to provide for the rest of her life. 

It’s a wonder how smoothly the transition has gone. Emily hasn’t shed a single tear since the family she knew left her in this strange house. Then again, Scully has never seen her daughter cry; like her mother, she must not be prone to it. 

Tara served a ham for dinner while Scully spooned mashed carrots and peas into Emily’s mouth, her helicopter parenting beginning early. Mulder made some joke about gourmet baby food, and everybody laughed except Bill, and Scully felt that she finally understood what was meant by family--some who share your blood will never fit into it, but some who were once strangers will more than make up for that absence. 

And now, as Scully lowers her onesie-clad daughter onto the guest bed, there is peace. Terror, too, lingers in her mind, but it’s the unwarranted kind. She is the mother to a healthy baby girl. Yes, there will be challenges. Yes, a person loved separately from yourself is a person you could lose. But the summit has been reached; the worst did not happen, and now everything else pales in comparison. As far as Scully’s concerned, she can never be truly hurt again. Because if anything happens to Emily, well, this is what Scully asked for, and what gives her the right to complain? Beggars can’t be choosers, and she begged God for this...The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away. This happened in the opposite order for her, so she can only assume more loss is to come, and she will accept it. She will.

Scully slides beneath the comforter, snaking her arm out from under to rest a hand on the small of her baby’s back. A comfort very familiar to her, and one she will bequeath to her daughter. They have the bed to themselves for now. Missy is in the living room downing a beer with the boys and trying to compete with (or mediate?) their trash talk. In the past, a situation like this might worry Scully, but those old concerns look so small now. 

Only a few hours in, and she already feels much more at home with the title of mother, much more deserving of it. The first diaper she changed rivaled some of the operations she witnessed in med school, both in its gruesome nature and in requiring multiple pairs of hands. Mulder would help if Emily was a boy, he swore, but he claimed to be “out of his depth with her plumbing” as he put it. Missy quipped that you sure are and it made even Bill laugh and life was wonderfully rose-colored through Dana Scully’s eyes. 

She hopes for sweet dreams for herself, but much more so, for her daughter, and she is aware that this is how it will be for the rest of time. Having been half-asleep when she was put down, Emily lulls into even-breathed dozing before Scully can decide on a lullaby. No harm done; Scully’s vocal cords haven’t seen regular exercise since college karaoke, and she’d hate to disappoint so soon.

When she opens her eyes again (she hadn’t realized she closed them, but apparently she had), Emily is deep in sleep, her eyelids twitching to the rhythm of her unseen dreams. And Missy has joined them too, her mouth drooping like it did when the sisters shared a bed every Christmas Eve. Scully doesn’t know what time it is, and with such a picture perfect view in front of her, she won’t dare to roll over and check the bedside clock. How nice it is to exist beyond time’s constraints, even for a moment. 

Scully is as present, maybe, as she’s ever been. She’s touched by the past and the future, ironically giving her a heightened awareness of now. One side of her consciousness is borne back into childhood and the many nights she slept by her sister’s side--in this very city, in fact. The other sees a path of hope unfurling in front of it, finally. She wonders whether her happiness might multiply, like a drop of food coloring unleashed into water. Might Emily be the shield that she’s needed?...Maybe the loss she expects will not be what comes.

And what that could mean...she has meant, for a long time now, to plant Mulder firmly in her life. Partner is much too fleeting--the Bureau could close the X-Files tomorrow, and then they’d be nothing but ex-coworkers. They’ve established where they stand through silences that say more than words ever could. She loves him, he loves her, and my god, neither one wants to lose that. It’s only now that Scully is realizing that they haven’t--or she, rather, hasn’t--embraced what they have, and so there is nothing to lose, and very little to cherish. 

With all this change in her life, she thinks, why not add that to the list?

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

They fly back into DC on Emily’s first birthday. November 2nd. Or at least, that’s the date that was left on the note at the foster agency. Scully isn’t sure exactly what she was doing last November 2nd, but she wasn’t having a baby, that’s certain. It was around the time of Aubrey, Missouri and BJ and nightmares, she remembers that. Plus, the phantom pregnancy, and the fear. The universe has a way of echoing itself.

They’re off to Mama Scully’s as soon as they make it off the tarmac. She’s aching to see her granddaughter, as she let Dana and Melissa know through a barrage of phone calls. I even made cupcakes and bought decorations for a warm welcome home! she insisted. Neither one of them can remember their mother being this excited about anything since...honestly? Ever. And they can’t blame her; Emily is the greatest thing that’s ever happened to their family. If only their father were here to meet her.

This is the sorrow that Scully has not had time to pick at. Her hero, her role model, the blueprint for all she wants Emily to be, not around to see it happen. She can’t think further than that; it’s the loose string that would unravel the sweater.

Mama Scully opens the door before they make it up the front steps, armed with yellow balloons and a party hat for the birthday girl. What a way to meet your grandmother. 

“Hello dear!” It’s unclear whether she’s referring to Emily, one of her daughters, or the three as a unit. “Look at you…” she cups her hands around Emily’s head, and now they’re pretty sure who she’s referring to. “You’re like a little princess!”

Scully smirks. She’s glad to witness her mother’s happiness, of course, but they’ve just finished five hours of travelling with a baby. “Mom, please, could you save the theatrics for inside?”

“Oh, I have a whole other set of theatrics planned there,” Mama Scully quips. She clears the way, ushers the group into the house. 

She touches Mulder’s shoulder as he passes. “Fox! I almost didn’t see you there.”

“Well, I can’t compete with Emily, so I don’t blame you.”

“She is precious, isn’t she?” Mrs. Scully gazes toward the doorway that Scully and Emily have since deserted. “There’s a place for you in Emily’s future, you know.”

Mulder shoves his hands in his pockets. “Oh.” He doesn’t know what else to say to that, and besides, it should be up to Scully.

“Unless there’s another woman in your life…?”

“No, no, I just--” he chuckles. “I didn’t expect that.”

Mama Scully lays a hand on his arm. “I care about you, Fox. Your well-being is deeply connected with my daughter’s.”

“Yes, of course…” He really, really would like to go in now. 

“And it’s important to me that she has a strong support system throughout this ordeal. Raising a child is a tremendous challenge, and I don’t want her to feel that the burden is hers alone.”

“I completely agree.”

“That’s why you should adopt Emily, too. Give her the gift of a father.”

Mulder’s brain short-circuits. “I--what? Mrs. Scully, I don’t know--”

She puts a hand on his back and leads him inside. “Think about it. You and Dana, forming a family for this child that needs one. It would be a little untraditional, of course, but the wedding could come in due time, no need to rush.”

Mulder’s head is spinning. This is a practical joke, right? The hidden cameras can feel free to reveal themselves any time now. 

The pair stops in the front hallway, a safe distance from everyone else in the kitchen. Mulder tries to mold his thoughts into cohesive sentences.

“Mrs. Scully, your intentions are good, but I think this solution is a bit extreme. I’m more than happy to help with Emily as much as possible, but becoming her father would just make things more complicated for all involved. And trust me, even if I were onboard, there’s no way Dana would go for it.”

Mama Scully nods. “I anticipated that. I’m going to talk with her tonight, straighten things out.”

Mulder does an awkward side-to-side shuffle. “If there’s one thing I know about her, it’s that her mind is not easily changed.” 

“Yes, well, I doubt this is something Dana has given much thought to. I’m hoping to get my argument across before she takes sides.”

“Mmm.” Mulder looks off toward the kitchen, where he would like to be. 

“I’ll let Dana know that we’ve discussed my proposition,” Mama Scully continues, “and then you two can talk it over, alright? I don’t mean to force you into anything. It just feels like a logical step. I’m sure you’d agree that your relationship is deeper than that of many married couples.”

“Sure, but it’s very different too,” Mulder mutters. This is not a topic to delve into with his partner’s mother, of all people. “I don’t know that they can be compared.”

“Perhaps you should consider it.” 

Mrs. Scully holds her hardened glance for a long second, and Mulder is the one who breaks. He scoots out of her direct line of sight, then gestures for her to go before him into the kitchen. “Shall we?”

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

They celebrate Emily’s 365th day around the sun like they’ve been by her side for every one of them. Before the crew arrived, Mama Scully whipped up vanilla cupcakes with chocolate frosting and rainbow sprinkles, or as she put it, “a little bit of everything since I don’t know what she likes.” She even bought a happy birthday banner and sharpied in Emily’s name--not to mention five birthday hats and a humongous 1 candle that a single cupcake can barely hold up. 

It’s a testament to Emily’s character that she’s so unbothered by it all. She lets Mama Scully slip the hat into place, shows no visible distress to the admiration she receives from the room. She prefers her mother’s arms over anyone else’s--they are, after all, the most familiar of the unfamiliar--but she’s content anywhere that welcomes her. And this is a place where she is most welcome.

Scully reminds herself to capture these little moments in her mind...Emily’s effervescent giggle as Missy tickles the bottoms of her feet,  Mulder helping Mama Scully add extra sprinkles to each cupcake, the warm hug of a family’s company. Love, love, there is so much love here. 

The time comes for cake and singing and blown-out candles. Well, candle in this case. Mulder performs the honor of lighting said candle as everyone gathers around, Emily nestled in her mother’s arms. 

“Ready?” Mulder inquires. He conducts in time with his countdown. “One, two, one, two, three…”

The rendition is not in tune on anyone’s part (though Missy is the closest), but at least their intentions are harmonious. Scully’s heart swells. Mulder and Missy throw in a zany “and many more!” for the cherry on top of a joyous moment. Scully mourns its end; the birthday song is much too brief.

“Make a wish!” Missy chirps, and Scully leans forward and blows out the flame for her daughter. Safety, happiness, love...these are the things she asks for. These are the things that everyone deserves. 

Scully’s not surprised when her mother pulls her aside a few minutes later and leads her to the library, leaving Emily at Missy and Mulder’s mercy. Her mother is fond of sentimental speeches, but not brave enough for an audience. Scully steels herself for a mushy-gushy outpouring. 

Mama Scully shuts the door, turns to her daughter. “I’m overflowing with joy. Aren’t you?”

“Yes, mom,” Scully answers, tiresome already. “I’m a bit afraid this is all a dream that I’ll wake up from at any moment.”

“Pinch yourself. You’ll see that it’s not, I promise.”

Scully pinches her bicep, more for her mother’s amusement than anything. This is, in fact, reality.

“You must be very overwhelmed, I imagine,” Mrs. Scully remarks, beginning to pace. Scully follows with her eyes. 

“There is a lot that I haven’t sorted out yet, yes,” Scully replies, her suspicion about her mother’s intentions growing. “Work, for example. I only have one more day off, and then I have to explain everything to Skinner, and hopefully I’ll qualify for maternity leave. But the Bureau isn’t very good about that, it’s only two weeks.”

“Just remember that I’m always available to babysit Emily if you need it.”

“I know, mom.”

Mama Scully allows herself to get side-tracked for a moment. “You have a crib though? And diapers, and a high chair?”

Scully nods. “Required for the home study.”

“Good.” Mama Scully sweeps back a wayward piece of her daughter’s hair. “I don’t ever want you to feel like you’re all alone in this.”

Her mother’s soft gaze unearths a sudden swell of emotion; tears prick at the back of Scully’s eyes. “I know, mom.”

“And I know that you’re gonna say you are Emily’s only legal guardian, and so you are technically alone, but you know what? You don’t have to be,” Mama Scully asserts. “There is someone out there who is willing to fill that void for you.”

Scully rolls her eyes, her brief emotional trance broken. “Don’t tell me you're gonna set me up with the Prizatskys’ son again.”

“Oh no,” Mrs. Scully laughs. “Besides, he’s engaged now.”

“Oh.” Scully tries to miss the patronization in her mother’s voice. 

“What I’m saying is,” Mrs. Scully continues, “there is a man in your life who is loyal, trustworthy, hard-working, and in the perfect position to provide for you and Emily.”

“If you’re referring to Mulder,” Scully starts, an eyebrow raised, “I’m not exactly planning to shun him anytime soon.”

“Yes, but have you ever truly let him in?”

Mrs. Scully has aimed her arrow and hit her target, a stunning blow. The most damning parts of Scully’s inner dialogue have just been echoed back at her. 

Wounded, she swallows hard. “That’s really none of your business. And just because he’s in my life doesn’t mean that he magically fills the role of Emily’s father. How would that even work? Emily would have to be shuttled back and forth...She’d be split between one parent and the other...It would make her life more hectic.”

“Dana, Dana…” Mama Scully pulls her daughter close, recognizing that she’s struck a nerve. Scully stiffens into the hug. “Remember when you were little, and your father would be gone on long deployments, and you’d draw pictures of him in his uniform, and tell your class about how your father was a Navy captain, and you were so proud? You barely had a sense of what that meant, but you knew he was doing something important.”

Scully relaxes into their embrace. “And when I missed him the worst, you’d let me wear his old sailor hat.”

“Yes.” Mama Scully takes a hearty breath. “I was there every day, feeding you, bathing you, sending you off to school...and you loved me, I don’t doubt that, but I wasn’t the one who put stars in your eyes.”

Scully nods against her mother’s shoulder. Damn, if she isn’t winding her way toward a convincing point.

“Emily’s gonna love you whatever you choose. But the fuller her life is--the more love she’s surrounded by--the more she’ll have to give, and the brighter her light will shine.”

Scully sniffles, shaken by the truth of this. God, to know as much love as she’s known in her life and resist it still. That’s not the way a life is meant to be lived.

“Thank you, mom,” she whispers in her mother’s ear. It’s an imprecise affirmation--encompassing everything and yet a specific something that she can no longer reject. 

Scully pulls away, smiles at her mom. “No more meddling, okay? I’ll sort this out for myself.”

Mama Scully laughs. “You just needed that push. Now that the ball’s rolling, I’ll leave it alone.”

“You’d better,” Scully teases. She gestures toward the door. “I should get back to my baby.”

“Yes,” Mama Scully grins, “you should.”

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

The knock on the door comes at a quarter to noon, as Scully expected. She didn’t expect that she’d be scrubbing grape juice off the tile when it happened, but hey, these are the disruptions everyone in her life will have to get used to. Including--especially--her. 

“I’ll get it!” Missy’s voice breezes through the apartment. 

A moment later, Scully finds herself level with a pair of black dress shoes. Big ones. A twelve if she had to guess.

“Scully, if you wanna know my shoe size, just ask,” Mulder jests, and has he read her mind? She feels like she’s been caught in a compromising act, though she’s done nothing but wipe up a sticky purple mess. She cranes her neck, looks up at him.

“Good morning, Mulder,” she mumbles, running her hand over the spill area. Coming up clean, she finds her footing. The top of her head is even with her partner’s collarbone. 

Scully thumbs toward Emily, who is gobbling cheese crackers in her high chair without a care in the world. “Apparently she doesn’t like grape juice.”

“Grape juice?” Mulder jeers. “She knows orange juice is where it’s at.”

Scully ignores him, but makes a mental note to add OJ to the grocery list. And apple too, just to be safe.

“Let me get my shoes and I’ll be ready to go,” she says, shuffling off in her pantyhose without waiting for a response. 

They have a lunchtime meeting with Skinner to explain...well, everything. Mulder doesn’t need to be there--as his partner was quick to remind him--but he insists on advocating for her. No amount of I’m not a damsel in distress, Mulder will put him off. She’s so much more than that, he knows. Hence why he’s got to do all he can so her life isn’t defined by its crises. Besides, he’ll take any excuse to sneak down to the office on his day off.

He told Scully he’d pick her up because it’d be easier on her, sure, but also because he has an important delivery to make. He nods to Missy, and she grabs the goods off the front table. He wanted to make his entrance before the big moment. His presence known, he’s ready to go.

“Emily, Uncle Mulder brought something for you!” Missy sing-songs as she places the gifts in Mulder’s hidden hands. The girl looks up, her attention easily diverted here and there. 

Mulder tries to tip-toe forward--hands behind his back--without coming off as creepy, which is harder than it seems. He takes it as a good sign that Emily doesn’t spook and wonders what it means that Missy called him Uncle Mulder. Did she and Scully have a conversation about it? Is this what he’ll be known as? Or was that just a last minute reach to fill the space? 

He pushes these thoughts away, focuses on the blue-eyed girl in front of him. 

“Emily,” he begins, and it rolls off his tongue like a devotion, “I thought your bunny might like some friends.”

He reveals the fox first, then the UFO. His personal mark on Emily’s budding stuffed animal collection. She lets out a peep of astonishment and reaches for the fox, fascinated with its bushy tail. She hits it back and forth so it wags like a dog’s.

Mulder chuckles, his brain lighting up in places it never has before. Missy hangs back and waits for her sister to reemerge. Sure enough, Scully melts at the sight, stopping short so she doesn’t interrupt it. She clutches her heart. She and Missy share a smile.

“My, my, look at this,” Scully saunters in, ruffles Emily’s hair. “Do you know what this is, Em?” she asks, patting the fox. “This is a fox.”  She points to Mulder. “And this is a Fox, too!” 

Emily doesn’t get the joke, but that’s okay. 

“And do you know what this is?” Mulder prompts, picking up the flying saucer. He moves it through the air like it’s flying. Emily reaches for it, and god, Mulder knows the feeling.

“This is a UFO, Emily,” Mulder tells her sweetly. “Aliens!”

“No, no.” Scully plucks the UFO from his hand. “No aliens, Em.” 

She lays the saucer on the high chair tray. “Mama’s gotta go away for a little bit, but I’ll be back soon.” She kisses Em’s temple. “Auntie Missy will be right here.”

Missy steps forward. “We can play with Mr. Fox and the al--” Scully shoots her a look. ”The UFO!” she corrects, winking at Mulder. She scoops her niece out of the high chair. “Say ‘bye Mama!’”

Emily doesn’t have that grasp on words yet, and they all know it, but Missy gets her to wave. “Okay, now ‘bye Uncle Mulder!’” Another wave. Smiles all around.

Mulder and Scully move reluctantly toward the door. Scully groans as Missy and the baby girl slip from her view. 

“They’ll be okay,” Mulder assures his partner.

“I know,” Scully sighs, “but will I?”

Mulder rests his hand in the familiar spot on her back as they exit her apartment. “Absolutely. Skinner will grant you the leave, and you’ll be back with your baby in no time.”

She nods, bites her lip, and slows, suddenly wistful. Mulder stops, turns to her. “Scully…?”

“Mulder, did my mom have a conversation with you?”

He nods. 

“And...did you think it was kind of crazy too?”

He nods again.

She takes a breath and rises to her tip-toes. She could pretend not to know what she’s doing, but she does. Oh, she does. 

“But not out of the realm of extreme possibility…?” she coos, eyes centered on his lips. 

Mulder smiles shyly. He always expected it would be this way: Scully the coquette to his boyish ineptitude. Who knew she’d be stealing his lines.

His hands find her waist, pulling her closer there in the hallway. “No, no,” he muses, “I think it’s pretty solidly in the realm…” He nuzzles her neck, breathes in her sweet smell, and nibbles her ear, all in the beat of a hummingbird’s wing. “...of extreme possibility,” he purrs into her ear, satisfied with himself. 

It reminds Scully of do you believe in the existence of  ~extraterrestrials~ and how she knew then that he was a little bit unhinged, whip-snap smart, and too goddamn charming for his own good. That either fate or her own unconquerable desire would bring them together. She knows now that fate conspired to keep them apart. What’s unfolding is neither an act of its hand nor a last-ditch effort of a dead-end life. It is one choice among many, undertaken out of sheer belief in the happiness it could bring.

She looks into his eyes, which look back at her with a caramel-drizzle melt. Yes, yes, this is right. She fans a hand out on his cheek, runs her thumb over his mole. She has always wanted to touch it, but could never come up with a good excuse. 

They’ve delayed the inevitable long enough. Scully leans in, still on her tip-toes, and Mulder bends to close the distance. Their lips meet, and there’s no fireworks. No, it’s simple serenity. Like coming home after a long time away--though this is a house they have never walked into until now, they have a feeling they will be walking into it for the rest of their lives.

And then Scully pulls away, and it’s over but it’s just beginning.

[mikrokyla]

day 1- snow in california

now playing: snow in california by ariana grande

25 days of haikyuu masterlist

“No, never. I’m not going to let you leave.” You say, clinging onto Iwaizumi more.

“Well I have to, you have no choice but to let me leave.”

“But it’s Christmas tomorrow.” You pout, looking up at him. “I’m gonna be with no one for Christmas.”

“You have your friends, baby.” Iwaizumi replies, brushing your hair softly.

“They’re hanging out with their boyfriends for Christmas.”

Iwaizumi sighs and places a kiss on your forehead. “You know I don’t want to leave either, but I have to do what I have to do.”

You hug your boyfriend tighter. Iwaizumi has to go back to Japan for a few days to meet up with other trainers for the olympics, but unfortunately, he has to leave for Japan on the day of Christmas. At least you’re spending Christmas Eve with him.

“Okay, how about this, it’s almost 12 so we can celebrate the first hour of Christmas together.”

“You need to sleep though-“

“It’s fine, let’s just start celebrating, okay?” He pulls you out of bed and drags you to the kitchen. Then, he makes you stay seated while he gets the “fun activity” he says he has. “I saw this at the store the other day and I thought it’d be fun to do this together.”

“And what is it that you found?”

“A gingerbread house.” He says, revealing the box to you. “We could make it together.”

At first, you were mad at him because he should be resting before his flight, but at the same time, you do want to spend time with him. “You’re so sweet.” You say, getting up from your seat and moving next to him to give him a kiss on the cheek. “You should’ve bought two.”

“Two?”

“Yeah, so we could compete to see who can make the best one.”

Iwaizumi laughs. “You’re obviously gonna win, Y/n.”

“I know.”

Iwaizumi scoffs and begins to take stuff out from the gingerbread kit, laying them out on the table and discussing how you should decorate the house.

“Okay, let’s use this for the doorknob and then we’ll use white frost-“ You slap Iwaizumi’s wrist. “Don’t eat our doorknob!”

“There’s extras! And it’s not like i’m going to eat it all.” Iwaizumi says, rolling his eyes.

“Really?”

“Really.” Iwaizumi grins, putting another one of the “doorknobs” into his mouth.

“Hajime!” You exclaim, beginning to take all the candies away from him. “You’re going to eat our house!”

“Babe, I only ate two!”

“You’re going to eat more!”

“I won’t this time.” He says. You stare at him. “I won’t! I promise!”

As you both proudly stare at your gingerbread house, Iwaizumi didn’t think he’d actually be able to make the whole house without it messing up somehow, you pull out your phone to take a picture. Then you realize it’s already 1AM. You guys spent so much time putting the gingerbread house together, you both didn’t even realize how fast the time flew by.

You feel your heart sink a little. You were having so much fun with him, you didn’t want him to leave.

“What’s wrong?” Iwaizumi asks, wrapping his arm around your waist.

You frown and hug him. “I don’t want you to leave still.”

“Baby, it’s not like i’m leaving you forever.” He says, smiling at how clingy you’re being at the fact of him leaving for a couple of days. “Let’s eat the rest of the candies we didn’t use then we can cuddle in bed, okay?”

“Okay. Can we make hot cocoa too?”

“Mhm, of course.”

You both pull away from the hug, but continue to have your arm wrapped around his—jokingly criticizing him as you observe him make the hot chocolate. “Only one marshmallow? Pathetic.”

“You bake a good cake once and suddenly you’re a professional baker, huh?”

You laugh. “Yes.”

He looks at you and holds a marshmallow up to your face as a sign to eat it. You smile and open your mouth so he can feed you the marshmallow.

He places it in your mouth and smiles seeing your cheeks puff up.

“You look like a chipmunk.” Iwaizumi laughs, squishing your cheeks in awe.

You don’t say anything. You just continue to smile, also in awe over your boyfriend’s actions—and of course, the marshmallow is still in your mouth so it’s not like you can really say anything.

Suddenly, the window of your shared apartment catches your eye and you move aside to get a better view. Your eyes widen and you start slapping Iwaizumi’s arm in excitement.

“It’s snowing! Hajime, it’s snowing!”

Iwaizumi turns around and you’re right. It is snowing. “Wow..” is all he can say. Believe it or not, Iwaizumi checked the weather multiple times that week, hoping it would snow so he could spend Christmas with you. Unfortunately though, it said it wouldn’t snow—I mean.. it is California, not much snow comes around there.

But the fact it is snowing in California… it’s like a miracle that it happened to snow before Iwaizumi had to fly out.

You run up to the window to get a better view of the snow. “It’s actually snowing here!”

And perfect timing, Iwaizumi gets a text. His flight will be rescheduled next week, so he doesn’t have to leave for Japan on Christmas. He softly smiles then looks up at you.

He can't wait to see your face light up when he tells you that his flight got cancelled and he’s looking forward to spending the rest of Christmas with you.

end. 937 words.

note: first character of the 25 days of haikyuu is iwaizumi 😻😻 hope this isn’t too bad LOL sorry it’s kinda late also happy december first 🤍

25 days of haikyuu masterlist

{taglist: @elianetsantana }

[dissident-vedder]

- the christmas miracle ( 𝐒.𝐆. )

ADD YOURSELF TO MY TAGLIST!

character a vows to do something nice for a stranger during christmas time. character b is that stranger.

A/N - layout by @adoresobs​!  prompt by @fanficy-prompts​

𝐌 𝐀 𝐒 𝐓 𝐄 𝐑 𝐋 𝐈 𝐒 𝐓

tears pricked at the back of your eyes. here you were, two weeks away from christmas, and still no presents, no decorations, and very little food to even last this week. nina, your six-year-old daughter, kept asking about why christmas hasn’t come yet to your house, but how were you gonna tell her that you were struggling to buy food alone? it seemed like everyone in your apartment building knew of your financial status. they eyed you sadly as you walked down the hallways, making your way to work your one of two jobs, dark undereye bags staining the once skin-toned flesh, nina constantly wondering why you were working and no longer spending time with her as much as you used to. 

“i’m here to pick up nina,” you told him. “i’m her mom, mrs. gossard takes care of her in the afternoons.” 

“oh!” he smiles at you, “you’re ms. [y/l/n], right?”

“yes, i am!” you smile back. 

“come in, she got tired and is taking a nap in the living room,” he opens the door, stepping aside to let you walk in, taking in the pastel pink walls and white wicker furniture. “i’m stone, by the way. i’m mary’s son.”

“you’re the one she always talks about!” you brightly smile at him, causing him to blush lightly, sheepishly bowing his head. “she’s really proud of you, you know.” 

“she’s always like that with her children,” stone laughs lightly, scratching the back of his neck. the pale color of his skin complimented his eyes, making them appear brighter in the white light of his mother’s living room. 

“mama?” nina’s soft voice called from the couch. her small fist rubbed roughly against her eyelids, rubbing the sleep out of them as she pushed her upper body up to a sitting position. “hi,” you replied tenderly, making your way to her, her arms stretching out to allow you to pick her up easily. she wraps her arms around your neck and her legs around your waist, burying her head into the side of your neck, sighing gingerly, taking in the scent of the perfume you always wore. you turned back to stone, “is your mom home?” you pulled a small wad of money from your pocket, wanting to pay her for taking care of nina for however long she has been taking care of her for. “i’d like to give her this.” you pushed it towards stone, who gently put his hand over yours, pushing it back towards you.

“my mom won’t take your money,” he smiled delicately. “she understands, don’t worry about it.” 

“but -”

“no buts,” he shook his head, making his way into the kitchen, picking up the platter from the counter. “she also wanted me to give you this, if you came over while she was at her doctor’s appointment.” 

“thank you,” you freed one of your hands from nina, planning to take the glassware from him. 

“no,” he puts it back down on the counter again, hands outstretched to take nina. “i’ll help you take it home.” he smiles softly again. swapping nina for the pie plate, moving towards the door, eyeing nina as she rested her head on stone’s shoulder. her faint snores restarted, causing the man’s heart to slowly turn to mush as he rested his cheek on her head. your heart swelled, opening the door to his mom’s apartment. nina’s estranged father was never in the picture, and seeing a strange man cuddle her softly to his chest as he helped you really brought both sadness and want into your heart. 

you wanted nina to experience what having a father was like, but you barely had time for her, let alone another person. you walk to your apartment in silence, fearful that nina would wake up from her nap if you were too loud for her liking; she was always a light sleeper, something she gained from her dad, who was always sleeping with one eye open. you always wondered why, seeing that the neighborhood the two of you lived in was relatively safe.

most of seattle was. 

taking your key and unlocking your door, you lead stone to nina’s room, the princess themed bedspread thrown haphazardly across her bed, a few barbies and kens laying about the floor in front of her dresser. he gingerly placed her down, unbuckling her jeans and pulling them down her legs before moving the bedspread to cover her up to her chin. you smiled at the sight before going to the kitchen, placing down the pie plate on the counter next to your stove. the sound of heavy steps alerted you of his presence, “i have to go, it’s almost the end of my mom’s appointment and i had to drive her down there.” 

“alright,” you told him. “thank you for helping me with nina, i appreciate it.” 

“no problem, it was a nice break from the music business,” he beams, chuckling a little. “well, hopefully i’ll see you later!” he waves at you before walking away, opening the door to your apartment. 

“hopefully,” you hugged your arms around yourself. 

you had noticed a piece of paper on nina’s nighttable, and upon closer inspection, you noticed that it was stone’s phone number with a messily scrawled, “call me :).” 

you did, the next day, and since then the two of you spoke and laughed at his jokes, him telling you stories of his childhood, his adventures across the world, the stress of being in a famous band. you feared telling him of your financial struggles and the struggle of trying to make enough money to get nina some presents. however, what you did not know, was that mary had told him of your problems and his plan to help you out with it. 

it was the night of christmas eve, and nina had fallen asleep after throwing a small crying fit, wondering how 1. santa was going to be able to come to your home since it was in an apartment building (this was an ongoing thing for the past three years) and 2. why the christmas tree still wasn’t up. “he’s not going to come here if he can’t see the tree!” she cried, letting you hold her close, rubbing the back of her head as you calmed her down.

sitting in your living room with a book on your lap, your heart continued to beat wildly against your chest. you bought her very few things, most of which were small and it would make her a little disappointed, and at the same time break you heart as she would go back to school and talk about how the other kids got bigger and better things. 

a small knock on your door caused you to freeze, eyes wide as you thought of what could happen. a burglar waiting for you to be dumb and open the door? mary coming over to bring some food? all bad thoughts crossed your mind until you heard, “it’s stone!” coming from the outside.

what was stone doing here at. . . you glanced at the clock in the kitchen, 4 in the morning? you put down the book, upside down as to keep your spot, and made your way to the door, still confused at why he was here. you unlocked the door and when you saw the christmas tree box - amongst other things - sitting at his feet, you gasped. “what is this, stone?” 

“it’s for you and nina,” he smiled. “now, come on, it’s cold.” the two of you laughed, taking the time to pick up the boxes and transferring them into the warmth of your apartment, and as each box came in, you noticed that a few were already wrapped and ready to be placed under the christmas tree, one of which was wrapped in a different paper than the others. stone noticed you looking at it. “it’s for you.” 

it took the two of you half an hour to put up the tree and place the presents underneath, and once it was done, you were able to fall asleep peacefully, you and stone passing out on the cushions of your sofa. “mama!” nina’s cries pierced through the thick veils of sleep and woke you and stone up. “santa came!” you peered at her through your eyelashes, seeing her angelic face brighten up as she saw the many presents placed at the bottom of the lit tree. 

“open them,” you insisted, trying to sit up with some difficulty, soon noticing stone’s head resting against your stomach, arms wrapped lazily around your middle. you haven’t seen her this happy, you noted, hand making its way into stone’s hair, gently rubbing his scalp. he hums softly, watching the girl tear through the first box, a high-pitched squeal leaving her lips as she realizes it’s the victorian purple barbie house she’s been pestering you for months and something you complained to stone about. 

“nina,” you caught her attention, “can you give me that box, please? it has my name on it.” you caught the neatly scrawled [y/n] on the top. she snatches up from the floor, running over to you, placing it in your outstretched hand before going back to her own. “what is this, stone?”

“open it,” he nods to it. 

you tear the paper, letting the pieces drop to the floor, seeing a flat velvet box come into view. written on top of it was ‘gucci’. opening it, an aged gold butterfly necklace stares back at you from the confines of the white cardboard interior, and peaking from behind it, a gold-colored debit card sat. “it currently has a few thousand dollars in it,” stone informs you. “and it’s attached to my bank acount, as well, so now you and nina are dependents.”

“stone, i can’t take this,” you begin to protest.

“why not?” he picked himself up from your stomach, glacing at you from above. “it’s my money and i get to choose what i want to do with it. and i want to help you and nina. there’s only one condition.”

“and what’s that?”

taking a short glance towards your daughter, who was too busy tearing open the last few of her presents, he lowers himself against you, face turning towards yours before he presses his lips softly on yours. “just be my girlfriend. that’s all i ask.”

you nod. “always.”

TAGLIST:

@stateofloveandvedder @state-of-love-and-lust @honeysympathy

[soyforramen]

String-Theory Miracle

A holiday prequel to this Witchy prompt (Anon, I hope this makes up for the eon it took me to do the original):

Betty let out a full body sigh as she watched Archie and Veronica skate around the frozen lake.  Unsteady on her feet, Veronica’s arms windmilled.  The flash of panic was replaced by laughter when Archie caught her around the waist.  They’d been on the ice almost from the moment they’d shown up at Cheryl’s Sweetwater party, while Betty had taken up her lonely vigil at the bonfire.

Tonight was the first time Betty had seen Archie look this radiant.  A pity, really.  Because for the longest time, she thought that it would be her that would bring that look to his face.

“You did a good deed, Coop,” a voice said from behind.

She turned and found Jughead holding out a steaming cup.  Betty took it and wrapped her gloved hands around the cardboard, eager for anything that would ward off the late season chill.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said loftily.  She took a sip of the drink - mocha latte, extra shot.  Of course he’d know what she’d been craving.  Jughead Jones was never one to carelessly offer food.

He rolled his eyes as he settled down onto the log next to her. “You really want to tell me that Reggie’s carburetor mysteriously disappeared, defying reality and quantum physics, a mere ten minutes before he was supposed to pick Veronica up for their date?”

While Jughead was talking, Betty pulled his arm tight around her against the wind.  He’d long since given up trying to convince Betty that the Jones’ did not, quote, snuggle.  (Said conversation had been held in third, fifth, and ninth grade.  Despite it being a well refined argument, Jughead had resigned himself to the fact that Betty (and Veronica and Toni) had dubbed him the human furnace at Archie’s first homecoming game.)

“Must have been a Christmas string-theory miracle.”

He snorted, and Betty felt a small rush of pride in his confidence.  After all, sabotaging Reggie’s carburetor was the only logical thing anyone could accuse her of.  The rest was a mix of cajoling Polly into various coincidental spells to make sure the cold front blew in early enough to freeze the river (and to put a bug into Cheryl’s ear about one last winter blowout before graduation); Betty stealing Archie’s letterman jacket, only to return it with a luck charm sewn in the lining; and to make sure the jalopy worked well enough to make it to Veronica’s without a gasket blowing out.

“You gonna be okay with this?”

Betty glance at Jughead.  “What do you mean?”

“Your long time crush dating your forever best friend.”

She sighed and pulled him closer.  The wind gusted around them and Betty considered whether he’d let her steal his beanie.

“He’ll never look at me that way.  It just took me fifteen years to realize that.”

A sharp whistle caught their attention and they turned to find Sweet Pea and Kevin making smooching noises at them.  Betty gave them a beatific smile as she lifted her hand in a one finger salute.  Sweet Pea cackled.  He threw his arm around Kevin’s shoulder, more than tipsy at this point, and left to harass someone else.

Jughead squeezed her waist, and the movement made her squirm against him.

“You’re a good egg,” he said softly.

They sipped at their quickly cooling drinks while the party swirled around them, content to be alone among the crowd.  As night began to fall, the food truck Cheryl had rented closed up.  The teens began to disperse as girls in thin leggings wrapped themselves in letter jackets, all the while cajoling their dates to get out of the cold.  Veronica and Archie had disappeared long ago, red-faced and glowing, while others talked about a promised Blossom wassail tasting.

The pain Betty had earlier when she realized just how perfect Veronica and Archie were together had subsided to a dull ache.  A reminder that no matter how perfect she tried to be, no matter how relatable, no matter how friendly, she’d never be what Archie wanted.  But sitting next to Jughead, just enjoying the night, it was nothing more than an overstretched muscle.  An unsightly bruise to both her pride and ego.  

“Walk me home?” she asked Jughead when the fire was nothing more than a few embers.

He nodded and stood.  Holding out his hands, he took the empty cups in one and pulled Betty to her feet with the other.  On their way to the trailhead he tossed them in an overly full trashcan and let her lead them towards the dimly light hiking trail.

“Any plans for break?”Jughead asked.

Betty slipped her hands into his coat pocket and wrapped her fingers around his.  He shivered at her cold touch.  

“Just the Cooper traditional Christmas Eve feast followed by four hours at midnight mass.  Then six hours in a car for Christmas brunch with Dad’s family.  You?”

Jughead shrugged his shoulders and Betty felt a catch at her heart.  The last he’d mentioned the Jones’ were trying at being a family again, but history had proven that didn’t mean anything.

“Mary invited me and Arch up to Chicago.  Thought I might take a look at some colleges while we’re there,” he said evenly.  

She squeezed his hand, a silent apology for asking.  He squeezed it back.  Such a simple motion, but one that put her at ease about the next few weeks.

It wasn’t until they reached town that they realized snow had begun to fall around them.  The first natural snow of the season, Betty realized.  One untouched by magic.  It was a sure sign that the holidays were just around the corner.  The one time of the year where Betty was permitted to stay in bed late, curled around a stack of the latest best-sellers; when her parents acted like teenagers, openly flirting while they decorated their house, tipsy on egg nog.  The only time when Polly still wanted to curl up with her in their grandmother’s oversized recliner and gossip; when her father handed her a cup of hot chocolate spiked with Schnapps while they watched Charlie Brown’s poor tree loose all of its needles.

This was her favorite time of year, and she refused to let something as silly as disappointed puppy love, as silly as Archie get her down.

With a laugh, Betty tugged them towards the town square.  Jughead stumbled, but had no trouble catching himself with his long legs.  Halfway to the square she scooped up what snow she could off a parked car and threw it at him, shrieking with delight when he managed to come up with a properly made snowball.  Shoppers taking advantage of the later holiday hours on Main Street shook their heads at such childish exuberance, but even crabby Ms. Crabapple pulled a smile when they ran by.  

Panting, they made their way to Elm Street.  Betty stuck her tongue out and managed to catch a snowflake on her first try.  

“Show off,” Jughead teased.

She winked and slid her arm through his.  One by one, the lights on the houses kicked on.  Puzzled, he stared at the houses.

“Did you do that?”

Betty shook her head.  Magic had nothing to do with this, but even she couldn’t deny the strange sense of wonder the lighted block brought out in her.  She pulled Jughead closer; for once, Betty was happy to have someone decidedly not Archie to experience this with.  (And, perhaps, it wasn’t just any someone so much as it was a particular someone, she was slowly beginning to realize.)

“Must have been some real string-theory holiday magic,” she said with a contented smile.

[sunnydaisy1]

Flights Delayed

SAM WILSON X READER

A/N: why is this not my life??? I love Sam and this beautiful human being who sent in this request. I loved it and couldn’t wait to post this piece. Hope you like it :)

REQUEST: I saw your call for Sam Wilson requests on your arts and crafts fic, which was excellent by the way, and I thought I might send one in! How about reader as an avenger who either can’t make it home for Christmas, or doesn’t have a home to go to. And Sam stays with them at the compound and they stay up watching Christmas movies, until reader falls asleep on his shoulder. I’m a sucker for some Christmas fluff! ❣️🎄🎁 - Anon

You thanked Happy as you climbed out the car, pulling out your suitcase and shutting the door. You giddely walked towards the airport entrance, finding the right area for Terminal 2. This Christmas you were staying with your family for the first time in 2 years. You couldn't wait to arrive home and feel the familiar comfort of your childhood home and forget about the stress and panic of the world for a few days. Soon, you found the waiting area for flight 227 and sat down amongst many awaiting adults, eager to go home to see their families. You checked the flight board, smiling at the green notices saying all flights were on time and that yours left in 35 minutes. Pulling out your phone from your puffer jacket, you noticed that you had a notification from the groupchat you shared with Nat, Sam, Steve and Bucky called SPYKIDS. Sam: hope your flight is good y/n, have a nice christmas x Steve: gonna miss you at the compound :) Nat: enjoy the break lovely xx Bucky: Sam is waiting for you to reply Y/N i can see him checking his phone every 30 seconds. Sam: am not Steve: liar Sam: shut up Bucky: dont be rude sammy Sam: I hate it when you call me that and you know it 😑 Nat: not when y/n says it you don't Steve: ....exposed ☕ Sam: wish id never said anything now 🤦‍ Nat: hehe You chuckled and sent back a text Y/N: thanks guys haha, have a lovely christmas sammy x You clicked on spotify and opened some music up, putting in your headphones to pass the time. Around 10 minutes later you noticed a lot of people were starting to talk louder and there was a bit of commotion. You turned round to see where everyone was looking and your heart dropped. Snow. It was fricking snowing outside. Normally you would have been ecstatic at the sight of snow at Christmas, but right now it only meant one thing. Delayed flights. You glanced up at the flight board and saw only one flight had been delayed. Crossing your fingers and praying to any power there may be, you sat down in your chair and searched the weather on your phone. Just 10 minutes later, the airport was chaos central. Almost all flights had been delayed and the frustration of tired people was rising. You had been flicking between the glass windows which looked out over the runways and showed you the increasing precipitation to the flight board. Your flight hadn't been classified as delayed yet and you could sense everyone around you was waiting with baited breath at whether it would change to delayed. You shifted in your seat and watched with utter sadness and irritation as the letters next to your flight number switched to state DELAYED. You groaned alongside the other awaiting passengers, just hoping for a miracle so the snow would clear up soon. This frustration unfortunately didn't fade away and as the minutes passed by, you felt a christmas surrounded by family slowly drifiting away. The snow was falling heavier now and you dreaded looking at the flight board, knowing the glaring orange letters would not ease the tension in the atmosphere. You glanced down at your phone, seeing it had been over an hour since your flight was meant to have left. A sudden speaker crackled and everyone looked up in hope, "We thank everyone for waiting patiently for information on their flights. Unfortunately, the snow has not cleared and the runways are becoming increasingly dangerous. It is expected that their condition will not improve so we must regrettably inform you that all flights scheduled for today have been cancelled. Our staff will be happy to help you find temporary accommodation and we will continue to update you on flight statuses. Thankyou." At once, the airport exploded into an uproar and angry passengers stormed towards the information desks. Your heart sunk as the flight board wiped out to display all cancellations. How were you meant to arrive home in time for Christmas now? You didn't want to spend christmas eve at an airport. Tears threatened to fall from your blurry eyes as your perfect christmas slipped away. You sniffled a little and unlocked your phone, deciding that texting your mum was best. You explained the situation and you got an instant reply, stating she was incredibly sorry and that they would all miss you tomorrow. You arranged with her to fly home on the 27th so you could still spend some of the holiday with your family. Sitting back in your seat, you looked around at the mania of tired passengers and wondered what you were going to do now. You had no clue if anyone was even staying at the compound over Christmas. Racking your brain for someone to call, you decided Tony would be the best as he would know everyone's wearabouts. He picked up after the second ring: 'Hey kid, everything okay?' he asked, concern in his voice. 'Urh no not really, all flights today have been cancelled and I don't know where to go.' You replied, trying not to burst into tears. 'Oh Y/N im so sorry. I can get someone to pick you up and drive you to ours if you want, I'm sure Morgan and Pepper would love to spend Christmas with you.' You sighed at Tony's kindness but the least you wanted to do was intrude on their private time and plus, the drive would take at least 8 hours in this weather now. 'That's really sweet but the roads are jammed Tony. Is anyone staying at the compound?' 'Yeah, Sam is currently there now and Steve and Bucky are going over tomorrow.' Tony replied and you sighed in relief. 'Okay thanks, I think I'll stay there with them.' 'Okay kiddo, call me if there's anything you need.' 'Will do, merry christmas Tony." "Merry Christmas y/n." You hung up on Tony and searched for Sam's contact, clicking on it and hearing it ring a few times before his gravelly voice came through. "Y/N i thought your flight had left?" He asked and you rubbed your forehead, a headache weeding itself into your brain, "Uh no, all flights have been cancelled because of the snow." At once, you heard Sam get up and his voice fill with concern, "Love I'm so sorry, I'm coming to pick you up now." You nod and sniffle, "Okay, thanks Sammy." "No worries, I'll be there as soon as I can."He replied. You picked your stuff up, heading for the terminal exit to wait in the pick up area. You sunk down into one of the padded seats, closing your eyes and leaning back against the wall. God you hoped Sam would arrive soon. Sam walked into the pick up waiting room, scanning the huge crowd for your familiar body. He weaved in and out of people until he spotted your defeated frame, slumped in a chair. His heart sunk at your sniffling and tear-stained cheeks. "Oh love I'm here." He said as he squatted down in front of you. You opened your eyes to see his face, brows furrowed. "Sorry for being a pain." Your hoarse voice croaked out. "Nonsense. Let's get you home." Sam replied, wrapping an arm around you and carrying your bag and suitcase despite your attempts to stop him. You shivered as you exited the building into the nipping air and Sam pulled you closer, heart breaking at your shivering form. He took you over to the car and opened the passenger side, letting you slide in before shutting it and placing your luggage in the back. He climbed into the drivers side and turned the engine on, wanting nothing more than to pull you into his lap and hug you whilst you cried. But, that would cross over the boundary that clearly defined your relationship as 'Just Friends' so he had to make do with holding your hand across the console. After a while, you stopped crying and your body had relaxed into the warmth of the car, easing your throbbing head. You softly spoke to Sam, "Thankyou for coming to get me, I know this isn't how you wanted to spend your Christmas Eve." Sam chuckled and rubbed his thumb over your hand, "Its alright love, driving home a snotty girl definitely wins over watching another of Steve's movies." You laughed slightly, greatful for Sam's attempts to cheer you up. Sam beamed as he glanced at you, "how does me and you and some Christmas movies with a shit ton of food sound to cheer you up?" You smiled and looked at Sam, "that sounds lovely." When you had arrived back at the compound, Sam had told you to go and get showered and change into comfy pyjamas whilst he got some food ready and you couldn't muster the strength to disagree when that sounded perfect. You walked into your room, freshly clad in a pair of warm joggers and an oversized tshirt, feeling a lot more relaxed about the situation, knowing a Christmas spent with 3 of your favourite people would be amazing and that you would see your family very soon. Sam knocked on your door when you were finding a pair of fluffy socks, one of his hoodies in hand. "Thought you might want one of these, I know you steal my hoodies when you think I'm not looking." You felt heat rise to your face, embarassed but taking the hoodie none the less, knowing the cozy fabric and relaxing smell would calm you. "Thanks." You replied, making Sam grin. "Foods ready, where did you want to have it?" He asked, watching you tug the hoodie on. "Oh uh if you don't mind my bed is looking really inviting right now." You replied, tugging on the ends of the hoodie's arms. "Sure thing." Sam winked at you before walking in the direction of the kitchen. Your heart fluttered at the gesture and you shook the thoughts out of your head as you scooted under your bed covers and sat up against one side of the headboard. Not 5 minutes later, Sam returned, quesadillas and popcorn in hand, grinning at your swamped form in the bed. "Oh you're a godsend." You said as he handed you a plate of your favourite food. Sam chuckled and placed the popcorn on the bedside table. "Do you still want me to join you or do you want to be left alone?" He asked considerately and your stomach jumped at how sweet he could be. "No there's room for you, scoot over here Sammy." He grinned and clambered in bed next to you, his own plate of quesadillas resting on the duvet covering his lap. "So what will it be Elf or the Holiday?" You asked Sam, mouth already full of cheesy goodness. "I don't mind." He said, watching you with so much adoration on his face that if Bucky or Nat had seen him they would have shipped him off to a deserted island so they didn't throw up at the sickening love radiating off him. "the Holiday it will be then. I'm in the mood for some Jude Law." You giggled, taking another bite of quesadilla and grinning at Sam. You continued to watch the movie together, finishing your food and somehow migrating towards each other while sharing popcorn, both of you excusing it as needing to be closer to share the bowl. You were gradually growing more tired, struggling to keep your eyes open as the rollercoaster of emotions you had experienced today had wiped the energy out of you. Sam tensed when he felt your head rest on his shoulder but relaxed when he saw your dozey gaze watching the TV. His body filled with warmth at this moment you were sharing and he dared to put an arm around you, pulling you closer to him so your head was now resting on his chest. He feared he had overstepped the boundary but you made no complaint and placed your hand beside your head on his chest. A small smile flickered across your face as you snuggled into Sam, his warmth washing over you and making you even more tired. Sam watched the credits for the movie roll out and was about to speak to you when he noticed your eyes were closed and your breathing had regulated out. His heart flipped at your sleeping form and he brushed the hair out of your face, turning the TV off and moving to get up. Your hand tightened on his sweatshirt though and a soft grumble came from you, "Dont leave." You mumbled, holding onto Sam. He nodded and scooched down in the bed so you were both comfortably laying down, "Night love." He said, stroking your back soothingly, "Night Sammy." You whispered, falling back asleep. You woke up, surprisingly warm and went to stretch when you felt a hard object in your bed. Your eyelids flickered open to reveal a softly sleeping Sam sprawled out onto your bed, your legs entangled. He looked so peaceful asleep, the creases that often littered his face due to worry smoothed out and leaving him looking even more heavenly. You smiled and went to get up, suddenly feeling an arm tighten around your waist and pull you towards Sam. "Where do you think you're going love?" He murmered, voice deep and laced with sleep. Your heart pounded and you looked at Sam who still hadn't bothered to open his eyes. "It's Christmas morning Sammy." You said, laying with his arm draped over your stomach. "Exactly- Buck and Steve won't arrive for another 3 hours yet so we can cuddle for longer." Sam replied, eyes opening to look at you, a smile cheekily spreading onto his face. "What-no-" You started, not understanding Sam's reasoning at all. He closed his eyes and tightened his grip on you, moving so he was closer to you as he was lying on his front. "Just shut up and cuddle me." He said, smirking as he already nuzzled into your side more. You gave up, knowing you really didn't want to pass up the free offer to cuddle your favourite avenger for a bit longer. Maybe Christmas without your family wouldn't be so bad after all.

[miss-kittys-magical-library]

Last Christmas

Word Count: 3100

Warnings: Language some smut and loads of angst

A/N: This took me two days to write. 🤣 Once again @robertsheehanownsmyass helped in so many ways and I continue to love her for it! This time @elliethesuperfruitlover was my sounding board too ☺️

Tag list: @joz-stankovich @bisexualnathanyoung @frogs--are--bitches @magic-multicolored-miracle @nightmonsters

Chapter 4: Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas

“Of all the places to eat in Sin City, you chose fucking Taco Bell,” disdain. “Don't you have those in The UK?”

“Not with a bloody margarita bar inside,” Nathan held up a giant plastic cup full of strawberry watermelon tequila and syrup. Violet lived for every time he spoke a word with the “AR” sound.

“IT'S A T’GO MARGARITA! I can just go anywhere I want and leave with booze. Fucking beauty if you treat her right,” Nathan’s eyes sparkled. “And there's no problem that can't be solved with a bit o’ t’go booze.” He shoved an entire soft taco in his mouth that smiled from ear to ear.

“Are you gonna have better manners tomorrow at my sister’s place?” Violet looked at Nathan unexpectedly hearing her own mother’s voice escape from inside and she frowned.

She had avoided bringing up anything of her own that was personal. These feelings for Nathan that were suffocating her could be held at bay for 36 more hours. He prodded her for information a few times since they woke up. She dodged every one, even going so far as to offer him head in exchange.

(Still only Christmas eve. The snow had stopped inside as Nathan drifted deep in slumber. Violet grateful because how could they explain a woman freezing to death while he was alive?)

Nathan nodded with a bit too much enthusiasm. “I'll be mature and polite!” His smile resembled Bruce in Finding Nemo. “If you tell me what I'm walking into?” There it was.

“None of your business,” Violet plopped a piece of sushi in her mouth.

Nathan sneered, “Bet that tastes like bad snatch. If we're playing happy families, I'm gonna need to know some details!!”

“You're just a guy who got stuck with me until the 26th. I'm not telling them you're my boyfriend or anything.”

“Oh TWICE you're gonna just jab a knife in my heart, huh?”

Violet couldn't tell if that was sarcasm or a tease. She inhaled deeply and brushed her fingertip down Nathan’s cheek. “Fine. It's a bit more complicated than that, but it doesn't change anything about what happens after tomorrow.”

“I like complicated situations. It's my middle name!”

“Oh really?”

“No. it's Michael but, wouldn't you love to meet a guy named Nathan Complicated Young?”

“I didn't even plan on meeting Nathan MICHAEL Young,” it came out a whisper.

They stared at one another in silence for a few minutes over tacos and sushi and margaritas and wine. An alarm jolted Violet to reality indicating it was time for her show to come on.

“Hold those thoughts”

“In my wank bank, darling”

Violet ignored Nathan and turned on her tv “You're gonna want to see this guy. I swear you could be twins.”

A few hours later the pair laid up on the pillows. Tears glittered Violet's eyes that she tried to wipe away surreptitiously with her knuckle.

“My mom watches this garbage show because,” Nathan mimicked a high whine, “NAY-TAN HE LOOKS LIKE YOOO. Alright Ma, and you look like Catelyn Stark.”

“But he kinda does.”

“C’mon what's with that twat’s hair?!

Violet sat up and tugged Nathan on the top of the head, “What's with YOUR hair.”

“IT’S NOT EVEN MY HAIR!” he dramatically waved his hand around. In a blink of an eye his hair became longer, darker and curlier. The description would be a mess. “TA DA!”

Violet hid her shock as her heart raced in her ears. “That's a fucking bird’s nest,” she recovered but not before combing her fingers through the curls.

“Why must your compliments always be so damn backhanded, woman?!” he swatted her hand away.

Violet laid down alongside Nathan with one arm tucked against her body. She stretched her free one across his bare chest, face concealed in the crook of his arm. There was a small contented sigh as he engulfed her in his arms. A kiss planted on her forehead before he inhaled deeply.

Blissful silence for a few minutes.

“I don't even BELIEVE Darren’s dead.”

“She shot him FOUR TIMES!” Nathan was incredulous as he stretched a hand palm up towards the tv. “IN THE FUCKING HEAD!!”

Violet lifted herself so she could look Nathan right in the eye. “Well he ALSO came back from the dead!” She struggled to maintain sincerity. “He got shot a bunch of times then too. So for like, two years he only had one lung.”

Nathan’s eyebrows knit together in utter confusion. “ONE LUNG?!”

“Plenty of people supposedly live without lungs. It's the back of his head missing that might cause problems.”

There was an exaggerated groan as his eyes nearly rolled back in his head, “Worst Dublin accent too.”

“Why ye from there?” Violet mocked.

“Jaysus, no! We didn't even really have a steady home even when I wasn't homeless. Not until I was too much of a selfish prick t’appreciate it.”

“Wow, death really makes you self actualize.”

“Only until my dick wakes up.”

Before Violet could blink, Nathan flipped her so he could pin her to the bed. She swerved with ease each time Nathan bent to kiss her lips. Her cheeks. She slept with him once already; wouldn't give in again. Well, maybe a little as he landed finally on her neck. A bolt of pleasure shot through her entire body. That familiar ache between her legs as a small moan escaped her.

“Did ye shag me because ye fancy him then?” Nathan’s voice low in Violet's ear.

“That's for me to know, and you to figure out ten years from now in the shower.” Her hands entangled in the waves of dark curls to guide his lips up to her own.

Their tongues danced for what felt like ages. Violet gobsmacked by how subdued Nathan was being. A hand between her ass and the bed to lift her pelvis up towards his burgeoning erection. Another moan, this one into his mouth.

Nathan wriggled to free himself from his boxers as Violet took his tongue entirely in her mouth. The head of his cock labored against her panties, desperate to get inside. He almost settled for the wetness it created and a few times in response.

“Fuck,” he growled pumping his hips. “I t’ink sexy Irishmen who commit felonies get you off.”

Violet raked her nails along Nathan's shoulder blades. Dug them in when her body started to twitch and her sex throbbed from the intensity of being fucked with her underwear on. Nathan's cock hit her clit just right through the lingerie.

Violet's legs started to writhe as the heat in her core began to build. Nathan’s breathing heavy while hers came out in short bursts through mewls of pleasure. The rhythmic way he undulated his hips took on a swift pace. Instinct must have finally kicked in. Like he knew Violet was about to cum.

Except everything came to a sudden halt. Nathan rolled off Violet and replaced his body with two fingers in the same spot. He started to rapidly press them to the wet spot in the fabric like someone desperate to close an elevator door.

Violet gripped his forearm, but again an abrupt end as she felt herself cum.

“Tell me anything about you,” Nathan chose to interrogate her now.

“My-My parents died when I was a teenager. three of us were raised by our grandfather.”

Nathan rewarded Violet by slipping his fingers inside of her. They remained still. “You've got sisters? I had a brother, but some Ice Queen bitch blew him up. What are their names?”

“Rose.. Fern.. Iris and Lily.”

Another reward. Nathan’s fingers began to work her clit in slow circles counterclockwise. “Oh a garden of sexy sisters. They inta Irishman too?” He stopped.

“It's because we're from the Garden District in New Orleans,” Violet's words came out in short bursts. “They're.. two are married. Not Lily, she's younger than you are. Seventeen. Fern is a lesbian.”

“One in every family,” he said it so casually. As casually as the fingers that pumped in and out a bit too easily with how slick she was. Deep inside where they hooked just a bit and pulled back.

“Na- Nathan are you-” Violet started to squirm under his motions. Between the horribly slow circles just his fingertip made on her clit before delving inside and back. “Are you trying to find my G-spot?”

Nathan ignored her as he bit his lower lip in concentration. “Maybe. Sometimes I play stupid with a bird if I t’ink she may do the work for me. Show me around a bit.”

Violet ignored that she may have been hustled a bit in the sack. Maybe his eagerness and pride was what really caused him to be all messy about it.

Still his hand worked faster. She coiled right at the beginning of the explosion, again. Then nothing. This was too much power for someone so fucking arrogant.

“I'm asking the questions, love,” he muttered. “Tell us about your granddad.”

Violet closed her eyes, “He was a Civil Rights lawyer. My grandmother was a society woman. Charity balls all that shit.”

“Oh yer a posh bitch. Slumming it wit us street trash,” Nathan picked up again. His fingers a bit too aggressive. “Is that how you work for free but still can live in a flat like this?” his mouth rough in her neck. He bit with the ends of his teeth and sucked somewhat. “While us arseholes are figuring out how t’work the system so we can survive.”

“Nathan! It's not like that. I left a very well-paying job at a firm to help people like you that deserve a fair shake. That DA? Tony? He was one of my partners. Yeah, I saved up and worked HARD for this “posh flat”. Not everyone takes the easy way by doing a little fucking magic and stealing from other people.

Violet had shoved his hand away and sat up on her knees. “I did my research, Nathan. You didn't exactly grow up rough. Your mom’s a teacher and your dad is a successful novelist? You're just one of those dick middle class white guys who gets bored and fucks off because he can.”

“YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT IT WAS LIKE. My dad leaving us. Mom and I never had a place to live until he started paying her. All the guys she dated. I just wanted it to be us.”

“MY PARENTS ARE DEAD, NATHAN. THEY'RE DUST. Have you even checked your phone? Your dad has called you probably 300 times not including the 20 since the trial ended yesterday. You get to fix things with them.”

Nathan growled and crossed his arms, “Fuck off. I'm not a charity case for you t’fix. I do alright on my own.”

“In jail because you're reckless. You know what happened to me when I was twenty-two?”

“I had t’finger fuck you just to find out ye had sisters. How am I supposed t’know what happened to ye years ago?”

“I was a widow. I got married like a moron when I turned 19. He already had a kid. My grandfather cut me off because education is worth more than a man! It is. I busted my ass to do the rest. AND raise a kid and a drug addict. You know what he did in return?”

Violet was on a roll. Hot tears threatened to spill over her cheeks and stung her eyes. The dark anger in Nathan’s took her by surprise. They were always so congenial if not a bit sad.,

“He drove in to a fucking semi on the highway with our son in the car. So forgive me for not being sympathetic to you being so fucking STUPID you got caught robbing a casino with a seven sided dice. And TWICE you've been too conceited to let your dad bail you out. You are better than this, Nathan. I know it.”

“HAPPY FUCKING CHRISTMAS!” Nathan shouted before throwing himself out of the bed. “I need a proper shower. Is that ok?!”

Violet looked at the clock. 2am. She waved him off, “I don't give a shit.”

She wished she could look back on that moment and say she didn't follow Nathan into the bathroom. That she never joined him in the shower. Or let him fuck her in silence and frustration and fury. That he never used his power to morph himself in a handful of ways, mocking Violet at every chance as their bodies pounded together until she came harder than ever. And most definitely did not fuck a third time after having slept angrily with their backs to each other.

-------

Nathan collapsed beside Violet still on all fours. Her arms waivered as adrenaline and serotonin drained from her body, and collected herself. How guilty she felt that his petulance made her wanton. The ring of the doorbell jarred them both back to reality.

“Oh don't get up. I'll answer it.” Violet threw the nearest shirt on and made her way to the foyer.

Nathan, in his boxers hurried behind her. “I'm a fucking guest. Ye expect me t’answer it?”

“You know a posh bitch like me doesnt answer doors on her own. My fucking maid’s off for the holidays.”

Violet opened the door to a short and cute dark haired girl with barely a toddler on her hip. He reached out for Nathan babbling “Dada Dada Dada” on repeat.

“Marnie?!” He was gobsmacked as the baby wiggled from his mother’s grasp into Nathan’s waiting arms.

A stunned Violet made a poor attempt at stretching the tee shirt she wore into a dress. It was fruitless as it was one of Nathan’s from his duffle. Her hands began to shake as a warmth crawled across her cheeks and nausea set in.

What the fuck is she doing here still? was what Violet said in her mind. “Well um come in,” is what she said with her mouth.

Nathan absently bounced the little boy in his arms as they walked into the living room, “How are ye here? Wit’him?”

Marnie was gawking at the apartment. “Hey this is a right posh gaff you've got. Why couldn't me n’ Nathan junior bunk up here again?”

Violet blanched.

“Oh our passports disappeared. Figured you might ‘ave been done in momentarily,” the young mother turned on the other two and stared from to the other. “Ah you shaggin’ the barrister?!”

“I said when we met t’is would happen, sweetheart. C’mon you know t’ere’s an understanding before we signed the license.”

Now Violet’s head swam, “Are you married? Married. Nathan are you and Marnie..”

“Just a little,” Marnie crossed her arms. “Nathan says if we got hitched your court couldn't make us rat on each other.”

The lawyer had to admit that was pretty genius, something she wished she knew a few weeks ago when she took this case instead of..

“What do you mean a little?”

“No one got a chance to agree. So it's just our signatures. We thought ‘is lawyer might sign ‘em after ‘e got arrested. That's not what you did is it?” She didn't look angry to Violet, merely a little sad.

“Vi you said she left Las Vegas,” Nathan’s tone was one of disbelief. He let the toddler down only because Violet knew he couldn't function without wildly gesticulating as he spoke.

“You left Vegas..” Violet was just too stunned.

“You told me to leave! Said I’d interfere with ‘is trial! Did you tell ‘im about the ASBOs?”

“The shit-heads?” Nathan asked. “What about them? Why would Violet know anything about my friends or talk to you?”

“Because Simon found her to be your lawyer.”

“Barry? He didn't even answer the phone when I called.”

“Well ‘e called me. But so much shit why down it all went barkin’. Some bloke can bring dead people back. That Virtue bitch you told me about killed Alisha because she couldn't kill you.”

Nathan’s mouth hung open, “But she didn't have anything t’do with that. I'm the one who pushed her off the roof. I just.. WILL SOMEONE TELL ME WHAT'S GOING ON?!”

Violet went to speak but Marnie cut her off at the pass, “Simon told me to go see Miss Duval because I know how your magic works. But she told me I’d interfere with the trial.”

“How the hell would ye do that?”

Nathan’s nostrils flared like a horse. His green eyes darkened as he waited expectantly in Violet's direction.

“If she showed up with the chip that's evidence! The cops and Tony would know you stole from the casino. And the rest of them are criminals. Theyre fucking criminals and if they knew you ready had a record that could be used against you. ”

“I DIDN'T STEAL ANYTHING! I FUCKING CONJURED IT!!”

“I KNOW, BUT HOW DO I EXPLAIN THAT TO NORMAL HUMANS?!”

“BY MAKING ME PERFORM LIKE A FUCKING CIRCUS MONKEY?!”

“YES!! BECAUSE YOUR HEAD IS TOO FAR UP YOUR ASS TO REALIZE WHAT YOU WERE UP AGAINST. AND NEITHER OF YOU IS SMART ENOUGH FOR ANY OTHER STRATEGY! SHE WOULD INCRIMINATE YOU!”

Nathan’s eyebrows creased, there was a quiet fury in his voice, “Then why the FUCK did ye tell Marnie to leave? Ye made me think everyone left me t’rot in jail. I didn't even get to say goodbye t’Alisha or Simon.

“If the District Attorney’s office found Marnie, she wouldn't know enough to plead the fifth. And you, you got arrested for STEALING FUCKING CANDY AND YOUR RESPONSE TO BEING ARRESTED TO TO CAUSE A FUCKING DISASTER FOR YOURSELF INSTEAD OF JUST SHUTTING UP. BECAUSE YOU'RE A PETULANT MAN-CHILD. THERE'S NO WAY WE COULD'VE WON WITH THE LOT OF YOU TOGETHER. You’re too fucking stupid to lie.”

Violet regretted them the moment the words fell out of her mouth. The baby started to cry and Marnie picked him up. She didn't look upset or angry with Violet. Disappointed.

“I didn't mean that, Nathan,” she reached for him but he yanked himself away out of her reach.

Nathan just looked at Violet. Those eyes, ever-changing in color were no longer furious or frustrated. Just full of sadness that tore her apart.

"You’re a treacherous bitch.”

Violet’s chest tightened as Nathan turned his back on her to throw clothes on. Her eyes stung while a blackness clouded her vision. As if she would faint. Yet when he returned, she had recovered before the tears could threaten her further.

“Good luck with this one, then. I've come to realize he'll never love anyone as much as he loves himself.”

Nathan maintained a deafening silence as he and Marnie made to leave, the baby back in his arms. That knife twisting in Violet's chest, an imaginary one to rival the way she had stabbed Nathan. How ignorant Violet had been to think this would ever work out.

“I'm not the one whose partner killed themself to get away from.” And then they were gone.

His heart yesterday for hers today.