#bottom half of the tree wasn’t even decorated and they still manage to take them and hide them somewhere

[spocklingtons]

Bro’s going on the naughty list

[winter-dayz]

Moments of Christmas

Pairing: Im Changkyun x Reader First Christmas Together Genre: Fluff Words: 1073 Warnings: strong language

Masterlist | 12 Days of Ficmas Masterpost

Taglist:  @soobin-chois

��Changkyun, did you remember to get the cinnamon?” You shouted from the kitchen. The man stopped his task of decorating the tree and blinked owlishly. A fond expression overcame your face, and it only took another moment before a chuckle forced its way past your lips. “I can’t even be mad when you look so upset about it.”

“I swear I put it in the basket… But now that you mention it, I don’t remember checking any out.” He said with a pout. You wiped your hands on a towel and entered your small living area. “Do you want me to go back to the store?”

You shook your head, wrapping your arms around his waist and leaning up to peck his lips. He reciprocated, though a little confused, and wrapped his own arms around your form.

“It’s okay, the cookies will just be normal instead of spiced.” The tree looked to be coming along nicely. He had spaced the lights out well, and it wasn’t looking cramped or overwhelming. “Did you end up picking out colored lights or the white twinkly ones?” You asked, still eyeing the half-decorated tree.

“Twinkly ones. You liked those better; your eyes lit up when we passed the display.” His answer came so nonchalantly that it shocked you. Changkyun had always been decently observant but never had someone so easily been able to understand you like he could.

🎄

“Hey babe,” you called over with a cheeky smile, pointing above you. He looked up from his phone to see you standing under a bundle of holly. He tried to hold back a smile at your antics, but he could feel how quickly he was failing by the quivering of his lips. “Better hurry up or someone else might beat ya’ to it.”

Despite no one else being in your shared home, he instantly stood and moved over to you. His hands rested warmly on your hips, and he stared down at you with tender fondness and something dark swimming behind his eyes. He dipped down slowly until his lips just barely ghosted over your lips, breath gently falling against your skin.

“That’s holly, love, not mistletoe.” But his lips melted against your own anyway. His tongue gently swiped over your bottom lip before he pulled away. Then he moved back over to the couch and sat down, resuming his scrolling like nothing had happened.

You stood there for a moment longer, simply staring at him in a lovestruck shock. Your eyes glanced up to the plant hanging above your head. You decided you much preferred holly to mistletoe anyway.

🎄

“Ready to go?” He asked from the doorway. You were double-checking your skates. You hadn’t pulled them out in a few years and knew they would still fit, but you wanted to be sure they were in okay condition. Breaking your ankle or busting your ass was not on your Christmas bucket list.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

The ice-skating rink was about an hour drive from where you lived, but boy was it worth it. Changkyun wasn’t the worst skater you’d seen, but he certainly wasn’t good. Despite the gap in time from the last time you’d skated, you’d picked it back up quickly—much like they say about riding a bike.

Changkyun managed not to fall, but you couldn’t say the same for flailing. Arms were everywhere except for beside him. Eventually, you offered to help him, taking his hands and showing off a bit as you skate backwards, guiding him.

“Easy– just think of it like dancing… you’re good at that, you just need to center yourself. Find your balance.” That seemed to click in his head a bit, and he didn’t wobble nearly as often after that. He never let go, though, finding much more joy in clinging to you and using his poor skating as a perfect excuse.

Then when you were done skating, heading back to the car, he was content with using the cold as his new excuse. His hand held tightly to yours, fingers intertwined, and stuffed inside the warmth of his coat pocket.

Your other hands each held paper cups of hot chocolate from a stand you passed on the way to the car. It was not the tastiest but worked great as a hand-warmer, and the company made it all the more bearable.

🎄

Shiny red and green wrapped boxes sat off to the side. You were working on wrapping the final present. It was more a monstrosity than present in your opinion. All the other presents had come out so neat, tidy, and pretty. But you’d underestimated the amount of paper you needed and had to settle for wrapping this one in a frankenstein fashion of half-red, half-green horror. Every side of the present had ugly tape, the folds were not even, and you’d ripped part of it with your fingernail on accident.

You were tempted to unwrap it and get more paper, or just give it to him now and save yourself the trouble. But when you saw the pile of poorly wrapped, but obviously thoughtfully tried, presents nestled under the tree addressed to you, you couldn’t find it in you to care what any of the presents looked like.

He had tried his best and that was all you could ask for, so surely he wouldn’t give a shit if one of his presents looked like it’d survived war.

Even cuter, the presents were wrapped in a glittery version of your favorite color. You knew you should’ve warned him about all the videos you’d seen about how that paper was actually quite impossible to wrap.

You organized your presents with his, arranging them under the tree prettily. It was endearing to see them all intermingled together, just like both of your lives had come to be over the past year. Your heart swole at the thought, and you smiled down at the presents like a fool in love—which you were.

Arms wrapped around your waist from behind, and a chin settled comfortably on your shoulder, nose nuzzling into the side of your neck. A ginger peck was placed and then a pleased hum sounded from your boyfriend.

“Merry Christmas Eve.” You reached up to run your hand through his hair, your other hand resting on his hands on your stomach. “Merry Christmas Eve.” You responded softly, turning in his arms to face him with a bright smile.

[inoreuct]

PART 2 CONTINUATION

for the whole month, sanji had busied himself with whatever he could; he got bored of wandering aimlessly after a while. it was fun, but he could feel his brain rotting away. so in the first week he’d poked his head into the throne room, and the high table that he’d only seen empty was filled with zoro’s advisors.

somehow he had managed to barge in on a council meeting. great.

but his attention had been snatched by the throne next to zoro’s, clearly meant for a spouse. it wasn’t smaller or any less grand, like many of the kings on the surface would have made it; this one was made of ivory and white marble, the veins liquid gold, obsidian accents scattered throughout on the detailing and an obscene amount of diamonds decorating the towering crestrail. a lighter version of zoro’s throne of darkness.

he’d scoffed a little inside, half-miffed by the assumption that he’d be staying to use it or even want it, but he couldn’t pretend that he wasn’t flattered.

and then zoro had noticed him, and sanji realised he’d been caught, but before he could duck out in a panic—

“would you join us, sanji?” zoro had breathed, almost looking nervous. “i… would appreciate your counsel. your opinion.”

and that. that was what had really convinced sanji to go in and take a seat beside zoro.

the marble had been softer than he’d expected, almost warm. he knew it was probably magic, but it was… comfortable. like it had been made for him.

they’d been having a meeting about the famine going on above, and sanji had winced. when he’d been taken zeff had been furious, and although he’d raced back home to reassure his father as soon as he could, the world was still suffering from the aftereffects. there were more souls coming in than expected, more people dying of starvation, and zoro had been at a loss. the underworld wasn’t infinite. they could only host a certain amount of souls at one time.

but sanji had come up with a solution for it, blessing souls with his fertility magic and sending them back up to heal the fields and plantations. it had worked. and from that day, he rarely missed a council meeting.

he’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy it. being listened to, being a delegate for the people and doing what he was good at; zeff had meant well and sanji loved him immensely but he’d felt suffocated without realising it, even with all that fresh air. ironic, how he felt so free when he was so deep in the earth.

on the last day, zoro says that he wants to show sanji something and brings sanji to the cave.

and sanji can’t believe it.

there are orange trees crafted from tiger’s eye and amber, glowing ruby carnatians and lilies hewn in marble. rose quartz camellias and clemantis climbing the walls with amethyst petals and emerald vines. gardenias made of flawless moonstone and red asters of fire opal.

and that’s not all; there’s a strange glow coming from further into the cave. sanji walks towards it, almost feeling like he can’t breathe, because it looks like—

sunlight. the ceiling suddenly curves up high and there are miniature suns bobbing beneath it, countless tiny glowing balls of blessed, golden sunlight and he gasps because on the ground there is a replica of his garden.

not exactly the same, of course, but it’s more than close enough. there’s even a tiny stream, bubbling along merrily with pebbles sparkling at the bottom.

“happy birthday.”

he turns around and zoro’s there, throat bobbing as he swallows, a tiny smile lifting the corner of his mouth.

“how did you know?” sanji breathes, all awe and wonder and something warm bursting into bloom behind his heart. “how—”

”i have my ways,” zoro says mysteriously, stepping closer. “do you like it?”

“do i like it?” he echoes, spinning in a circle to take it all in again, a laugh spilling from his throat. “this is your final bid to get me to stay, isn’t it.”

“not— exactly, no.” zoro pauses and shakes his head. “i would never presume to… keep you, here. this is not your element; it is too dark. too lifeless.” he chuckles, a little sadly. “you need the sun to thrive. it makes you happy, and i would never dare to deprive you of that. but if you were to— to stand by me, perhaps, i—”

the king seems to run out of words, and sanji takes pity on him. “you wish for me to be your queen.”

“my equal,” zoro asserts, “in every way. by my side when you wish. you are smart and kind and beautiful and— you make me happy, sanji.” he exhales, stepping even closer. “in all the years i’ve lived i have never, ever felt happiness like this. i would be honoured to live out the rest of my time here with you. and if you were to accept i’d build you a thousand gardens. if it made you happy, i would.”

sanji takes a shaky inhale, kneeling by the rows of herbs. thyme, rosemary, peppermint— even the oregano he grows only for zeff, gods knew he doesn’t use it. some of the sprouts are a little wonky, and he smiles as he gently brushes over their leaves. “did you plant these?”

“every one,” zoro replies, voice both hollow and filled to overflowing with something that sanji desperately wants to cup in his hands, drink down like ambrosia, but he holds himself in check. watches as the king drops to his knees beside him in the dirt, slowly pulling out a ring—

and it’s simple, but it means so much. the gold is fashioned into braided sheaves of wheat. sanji looks up sharply to find that one of zoro’s earrings is missing.

“marry me,” zoro whispers, breathless.

sanji kisses him.

the wedding is glorious. not that either of them want it to be so, but it is expected for such a major god. there are whispers, of course, about the little nobody that’s marrying the king of the dead—

and sanji can’t give less of a shit. he surveys the crowd cooly, lounging with his crown of gold and ivory set atop his head, his hand outstretched and clasped in zoro’s. his throne is fucking huge and his husband treasures him more than all of the jewels in the earth, so as far as he’s concerned the haters can go suffocate in a grain silo.

(he doesn’t need them to know his own strength, anyway. he embodies spring; without him, there would be no season for the crops to flourish, no safe time for the newborn animals to explore the world on their shaky legs. he is important—

and zoro makes sure he knows it. every single night. sanji goes to bed blissed out, pleasantly achy and mentally smirking at every single person who had ever tried to marry zoro for power or riches, because the way zoro holds him close and presses slow, reverent kisses to his hair as they drift off speaks of nothing short of love.)

they have their own marriage ceremony. a small, secret one, with only the people they want there; zeff, of course, and nami, zoro’s chief advisor who sanji has come to call a close friend. luffy, who was thrilled to meet him; usopp, the satyr who grew up with sanji in the valley, his brother in everything but blood. there is cake, and champagne, and afterwards zoro dips him into a kiss in his garden, his garden that zoro gifted him, and he laughs, bright enough to rival the sun. his heart is full.

he is happy.

this is SO. LONG. OH MY GOD. i had so much fun writing this and i’m smiling like an idiot right now asksjbdjaj THANK YOU VERY MUCH FOR THE ASK 🤭🫡🫡 also pspsps all the crystal flowers have specific meanings,,, but i’m too lazy to list them so search em up if you’re curious hehe

Headcanons for Zoro and Sanji as Hades and Persephone? 👀

HERE WE GOOOOO. buckle up. this is LONG.

sanji’s persephone. the breathtakingly beautiful god of spring, kind and charming with wit sharper than a grain scythe and a marvellous capacity for divine rage. he’s a whiz in the kitchen (it’s sanji. duh.) and has a green thumb to boot; up on the surface he has a garden that’s his pride and joy, where he grows his own fruits and herbs and vegetables and rare blooms, occupying a plot of land together with the cottage that he and zeff (more on him later) stay at whenever they can.

zoro’s hades. intimidating as all hell (heh), has a MAJOR resting bitch face, and a three-headed dog with the heads named wado, sandai and enma. he’s a good man, just VERY emotionally constipated and he’s never had to woo anyone before; it should be illegal for someone that powerful to be so awkward but he IS.

he goes up to the surface one day to take care of underworld business, something about dead souls escaping— and he sees sanji in his garden, on his knees in the dirt, gathering herbs with his hair a mess, golden as the sun and all over his face and when he flips it aside to talk to zeff his smile is even brighter. zoro feels his heart lurch so hard he considers if he’d gotten cardiac arrest.

and as previously mentioned, zoro has NO IDEA how to talk to this beautiful— god? nymph? human?? he doesn’t know. he doesn’t care. he wants to get to know his mystery guy but he doesn’t want to freak him out, so he just thinks FUCK IT I’LL BRING HIM TO MY HOME AND FIGURE IT OUT FROM THERE

zeff’s demeter. protective, sometimes TOO protective, the god of agriculture practically raised sanji himself; barely anyone even knows that he HAS a son. he has fields upon fields of grain; rice, oats, wheat, whatever sanji requires to bake to his heart’s content. the entire valley where their cottage resides is known to be his territory, and he doesn’t hesitate to rain holy vengeance down on whoever trespasses.

which is why zeff is so pissed when zoro pops out of the literal dirt and whisks sanji away. it’s not fun for any of the human farmers on earth that day.

when zoro brings him down to the underworld, sanji pissed as fuck; kicks and yells the whole way down, then knees him in the balls and nearly rips off one of his earrings before strutting off like he already owns the place. what about his garden?? zeff?? all the humans he has a soft spot for?? who the fuck does this king of the underworld think he is, plucking sanji out of his life like this?

meanwhile, zoro lies there curled up on the ground as wado licks at his face, and for the first time in his life he wonders if making a plan would have been a better idea. he asks his shades to gather information and learns that sanji’s the god of spring, zeff’s son in all the ways that matter; but even if he hadn’t been a god, zoro would have easily made him immortal if he’d wished. the thought is wild and so out of character for him that he sits there for even longer until the shades tell him that sanji’s demanding to talk to him.

sanji finds the throne room but on the way he’d already passed multiple chambers filled with gold, crystals, extremely rare night-blooming plants— he walked by a cave with its walls encrusted with rubies as big as his head. but he misses the sun. he misses his flowers and his herbs and fuck, he had a bundle of rosemary drying in the kitchen. he really hopes he’ll get to see it again.

the shades are all polite, if a little wary, but they seem to relax when he smiles at them. the throne room is massive, a cavern with stalactites dripping from the ceiling, ending in wicked points, and the throne itself is a twisted amalgamation of iron and obsidian, gold and bleached bone and pure, sparkling diamond.

he doesn’t even flinch when zoro enters with his sweeping black cloak and his liquid, inky shadows, just pulls his lip up in a sneer; he doesn’t give a shit who this big shot is. doesn’t care for the crown of ivory and volcanic glass set atop his brow. he knows where he is, knows exactly who he’s dealing with, and he stomps right up to zoro, shoves a finger in his chest and says, “what the fuck do you think you’re doing.”

the shades obviously didn’t see the whole getting-kneed-in-the-family-jewels spectacle, because there is an audible gasp. the court goes deadly quiet. zoro feels his shadows subconsciously swirl around him, building the silhouette behind his back into something out of a nightmare, but he makes an effort to disperse them as soon as sanji looks.

“i want. to court you,” he ekes out, eyes big and mouth pinched, and sanji suddenly realises that this man is just very, very awkward and obviously has not interacted with many living people for a very long time.

and no matter about anything else, zoro looks earnest. he takes a deep breath and his shoulders shift beneath his cloak, lifting his chin— but his expression screams pleasesayyespleasesayyespleasesayyes and sanji doesn’t have the heart to say no. what will a few days hurt, right?

so they come to an agreement. sanji will spend a month in the underworld and allow zoro to court him, and if by the end of that time he doesn’t want to stay, zoro would personally see to it that he got home safe. he isn’t a prisoner, either; he is free to wander in the upper world for half the day. twelve hours of sunshine, and twelve hours in zoro’s domain.

if sanji’s honest with himself, the underworld honestly isn’t bad; zoro spares no expense to ensure he's comfortable, even though he doesn't come see sanji himself very often in the beginning.

(sanji doesn't know it yet, but zoro's deathly terrified of sanji genuinely hating/fearing him or the underworld, or not being happy. he'd brought sanji down because he'd fallen hard and fast in love but if sanji ever truly did want to leave, it wouldn’t be a question. zoro would send him back up with his weight in jewels and gold.)

it's a little lonely, but not horrible; sanji befriends the shades and talks to the passing spirits, and word spreads that the king's crush (oh, zoro would have a conniption if he heard) is to be treated with the utmost respect, not just because of the order zoro proclaimed but because he deserves it. sanji is kind and understanding and fun to be around, but he also gives solid advice and he's much more emotionally aware than zoro. the shades haven’t gossiped this much in years and honestly zoro’s concerned about their work ethic, but he walks past a tea-spilling session one day and hears sanji giggle and all thoughts of stopping it fly right out of his brain.

zoro snoops around secretly and finds out that sanji’s birthday is within the month. the last day of their month, in fact. so he calls in a favour from luffy (apollo!! the sun god!! his best friend!!). he spends a week, almost two in a cave he’d picked out, carefully pulling gemstones and groundwater to the surface, getting his shades to bring down soil and seeds and consulting with dead farmers about how the hell he’s supposed to pull off what he wants to pull off, because he HAS to pull it off.

all the while, he’s still courting sanji; having tea with the god of spring, trying not to embarrass himself and mainly just trying to win sanji over. he gets so enthralled by sanji recounting a story once that he drops an entire crystal teapot, heart hammering as one of his shades phase through the ground and catches it before it can shatter. sanji looks a little perplexed about how it suddenly disappeared, but zoro urges him to go on and he lets it go.

(zoro had never been that panicked in his entire immortal life.)

i can’t believe it WE NEED A PART 2 I’M OUT OF CHARACTERS

[crybabykiko]

Szn’s Creamings

Miya Osamu x Fem!Reader

Warnings: oof a lot sorry- eggnog(its delicious and you’re all just mean), corruption if you squint, clandestine sex I guess? Choking, fingering, oral (m & f receiving), nipple play, the Miya accent, improper use of Christmas decorations, bondage, unprotected sex(you should know to expect this from my writing by now), vaginal penetration, squirting, creampies/breeding, use of the word daddy like ONCE, cum eating, a dash of overstim for optimal flavor, ahegao (😌) aaaaand snowballing (aka spitting cum in someone’s mouth) swearing obviously ummmmm shit man idk anymore I’m 999% sure that’s it- good shit below da cut

Wc: 2.5k

A/N: Merry Christmas to those who celebrate, and a VERY Happy Holiday no matter your culture’s festivities! This is part of my collab with my lovely friends in The Sewer Server- @rat-suki ty anu for organizing it all! I’m love u. This fic was written in an eggnog & fireball induced  blackout, and is singlehandedly fueled by lust for Osamu’s Dorito body and my love for Steak n’ Shake.

Cheese-on’s Greetings Collab mlist here 🎄🎁🐁

“This... is it?” He cocked an eyebrow at the concoction, the red and green sprinkles bleeding dye into the whipped cream, the sad cherry on top sunken into it. 

“This is what you’ve been goin’ on about fer the last 3 weeks?” 

This- was an eggnog milkshake. A wintertime classic, and a staple at the local diner in your hometown. Simple enough. It didn’t look like much- in fact, it honestly wasn't. But to you, this shitty, artificially-flavored diner milkshake encompassed all the joys of holiday magic into one tall, frosted glass. You could count the years you spent in this diner, knocking them back. You’ve grown of course, but the nostalgia always stays the same. Having Osamu come to your hometown for the holidays was a pretty big step in your relationship, sure, but including him in the milkshake tradition usually reserved for your best friend? That was even bigger. 

“You haven’t even taken a sip, you ass,” you giggled, putting your own straw to your lips, reveling in the cool flavor that was coating your tongue. Pure sugar, just a hint of nutmeg and cinnamon- perfect as always. You pushed the glass over to him, urging him to try for himself. He took in a large drink, letting it rest before clicking his tongue a few times and looking over at your eyes- eyes that were aglow with anticipation and gingerbread men? No, that was just the reflection of the gaudy tinsel that adorned the booth you sat in. 

“Soooo?” 

“Not bad,” he sighed, pushing the glass back your way. Always anticlimactic. 

“But I could definitely make one that’s better.”

“I’d like to see you try,” you shot back, narrowing your eyes at him. 

One thing you knew he could never resist was a challenge. Grabbing his wallet, he slammed some bills on the table, whisking you away from the diner in 2 minutes flat, the milkshake an ever present memory, like that of the favorite Christmas gift from childhoods passed. You didn’t think he’d take it that seriously, but you also knew that Osamu took everything- especially food- seriously.

Even still, the drive back to your parents’ was a calm one, like every night adventure. The only difference was the bitter cold in the air, and the soft crooning of songs about Santa Claus on the radio. The only thing was- you just couldn’t stop pressing your thighs together….

“Put it away, sir.” you said jokingly, shifting your current position on the couch. Miracle on 34th Street shown on the small screen of the television as you flicked through what seemed like every Christmas movie ever made with the remote.  The feeling of his cock starting to stiffen at your back told you everything you needed to know; that Osamu wasn’t interested in whether or not Santa Claus was real, or  whatever the ‘true’ meaning of Christmas was- he was solely interested in the meaning of that which currently resided between your legs. 

A sneaky had drifted under your shirt, breath hitching in your throat as his thick fingers rolled one of your nipples, the soft tugging leaving you mewling as the sensation traveled down to your now throbbing clit. You leaned into it for a split second, but you were bought back to reality by the sight of your family’s Christmas photos on the fireplace mantle. There was no way in hell you could get fucked in front of a photo of your grandmother. You swatted Osamu’s hand away.

“We can NOT do this right now-” your words fell on deaf ears as  his hand snaked up your thigh, leaving a trail of warmth in  its wake as he settled them right above your stomach, fiddling with the drawstrings of your shorts. 

“My mom and dad are literally upstairs….” The words left your mouth faintly your body lurching toward him.

Again, you tried. A valiant attempt. It wasn’t a lie- they most certainly were upstairs, presumably fast asleep, as they had been up there for almost two hours now, leaving you and Osamu to watch a few corny Christmas movies- or so they thought. But he saw through your objections. Hearing the way your voice softened, seeing how your chest wavered as he got closer and closer to your face, he simply couldn’t contain himself. 

“It’s not my fault ‘ya wanted to stay here,” he huffed, large hands seizing your own, pushing away their protests as he passed his thumb up and down your clothed slit. You bit your lip in an effort to silence the moan that was bubbling its way up and out of your mouth. You had started to become feverish, your own state of vulnerability apparent as Osamu used one arm to pin your wrists above your head, sending your lower half flailing and bucking up into his free hand as you whimpered desperately for his touch.

“You want it, don’t ya, little love?” Little love. The one pet name you could never resist. Almost like a switch, you moaned a particularly needy, not-so-hushed “hmmhm- yes, daddy,” that definitely would have blown your cover. Luckily, Osamu’s thick fingers worked their way into your mouth to silence you, your lips immediately wrapping around them and obediently sucking to heed his words.

“Just be s’quiet as possible,” his hushed tone came out in a low baritone. He pressed a finger to his lips, pointing another up toward the ceiling from the couch of your parents living room. 

Keeping your arms restrained, your boyfriend’s free hand pushed past your layers of clothes, your saliva coated his fingers, providing just enough slickness to enter your hole with ease, gently curling against that soft spot right inside. You were so warm, so needy, easily molding into his touch as he watched your eyes widen within his. You fixed your mouth to open, but it hung there as his fingers worked, your cunt sucking  them in manically. 

“F-fuck,” you could barely manage that. “Please I-hmph- please…”

“Use yer words, little love,” he cooed, the tone of his voice was sickeningly slow as he teased you, slowing his fingers down. You bucked your hips in protest, pouting and wiggling underneath him to feel some form of friction.

“Stop Squirmin’.” His demeanor shifted immediately, darkening at your perceived disobedience. The hands that held your wrists met your throat, a half gasp escaping you as he gently squeezed, your face softening into a pout. 

“I said- use yer words.”

“Please, please fuck me,” you squeaked. “F-fill me up.”

“Then we gotta find a way t’keep ya nice n’ still. Will you be good fer me?”

You nodded. You always were. Osamu’s ability to render you a compliant, malleable toy for him to fuck was astounding. You could spend the rest of your life being his obedient little thing without a care in the world or a complaint.

“I know ya will,” he pressed a kiss to your lips. “My little love’s always s’good…” 

You knew you were in for it- but you didn’t expect this. It was a little different from your normal setup, but at the same time, the rush of excitement built in the pit of your stomach just as it did the first time ‘Samu ever bound you. It just so happened that there were some discarded lights nearby the Christmas tree. You could see the glimmer of an idea in his eyes as he plugged them in, smiling as the glow lit up his face. He looked at you on the couch and wiggled his eyebrows- as much as you wanted to laugh out loud, you weren’t in the position to be picky about your rigging tonight. You had to make do. 

“It’s…. festive?” You could tell that even he was amused. But amusement aside, the desire that built between you, the stored tension of having not touched each other for almost two days now was clearly screaming to be addressed. His large hands made a bite in the wiring of the lights and they quickly found themselves around your wrists, the illumination beautiful, but also kind of blinding this close to your face. With a kiss to your lips, he moved from your wrists and down toward your torso, trailing an interesting track of holiday cheer into a harness around your chest and tying in your back. Your arms were bent forward at the elbow, snugly enough so that you could wiggle your fists, but your wrists were of no use.

 Pushing you onto your knees, you felt the press of your boyfriend’s hand against your back as he repositioned your arms and elbows to place you on all fours. Cool air immediately hit the skin of your lower half as you felt him pull your bottoms off. You wriggled your hips in an effort to help, but instead your flesh was met with an aggressive strike. Managing to catch your discomfort in your throat, a lowered hiss bared through your gritted teeth, soon followed by a sharpened inhale as you felt the presence of him towering over you. 

“Been thinking about the way those cute lips were wrapped around that straw all night,” he panted, palming his cock through his sweats. You could see how uncomfortably hard he was- it lit a fire in the pit of your stomach. You couldn’t wait to serve him, you couldn’t wait to feel the weight of his thick cock against your tongue- and stretching your pussy past it’s limits.

“I bet’cher sweet mouth wrapped around my cock would look even prettier, don’t ya think?” 

His words hit at your core. Your mouth began to water in anticipation as he pulled himself out of his sweats, gently pumping before lining up at your mouth. 

Delicately, your tongue swirled down the slit of the head, plush lips wrapping around the pink bulb. Osamu’s hands guided your head down the length, drool sliding out of your mouth and down your  chin, where it dripped onto your chest, riddled with bright multicolored light. Slowly, he fucked himself with your throat, allowing you to adjust to his girth. 

“Yep,” he exhaled deeply, hissing at how warm your mouth felt around him.

 “Ev’n prettier.”

 His motions sped up as he bobbed your head up and down, the slight saltiness of his precum going down easily, leaving you practically begging for a full load.  You always craved him on your tongue- he tasted much better than any diner milkshake could. The soft gargling of his assault on your throat slowed to a stop as he pulled you off, leaving you gasping for air. Licking the drool from the corners of your lips, Osamu kissed you passionately before throwing your bound body onto the couch.

You clenched haphazardly around his cock as soon as he entered you, head flying forward with the force of his thrusts. His arm held you upright, parallel to his chest as his cock pistoned in and out of your hole. 

“‘S-sa-ah!~ ‘Samu- ffuck!” Your eyes snapped shut as he fucked into you. His breathy grunts resounded deep in your ears, sending jolts of molten lust down your spine, chest heaving as you tried keeping your voices down. Your hot, wet cunt sucked him in deeper and deeper each time he entered you- your urge to milk him for everything he had was only made more apparent by it. 

“I can feel you baby,” He purred into your ear. “So fucking wet.” 

Osamu released you from his hold, letting you fall forward into the couch, one hand pushing your head into the cushions, the other roughly kneading at the flesh where your ass and hip met, digging his nails into the flesh as he began to carnally pound into your pussy. Each stroke hit your sweet spot with a ridiculously precise skill. Your muffled sobs echoed into the cushions of the couch as he drilled you, never once slowing the rate in which his hips snapped into yours. You wouldn’t be surprised if the smacking of his skin against yours woke your parents at this rate- you couldn’t be bothered to care with your orgasm this close to the horizon. 

Somehow you managed to free a hand from your twinkling ties, immediately pushing it to your clit to rub it feverishly. The squelching started up shortly after, your ears beginning to ring as your throat squealed itself raw into the deep void beneath you. Osamu pulled you back by your hair, pressing his lips to your ear and clasping a hand to your mouth.

“Keep rubbing that pretty pussy, sweet girl, so fucking close to cumming fer me, aren’t ya?”

You could only whine in response. He softened the hand on your mouth, muffled words spilling out.

“I’m gonna cu-ah-cum! Please let me cum!” 

“Hmmm? Gonna cum? Did I hear ya right, little love?” He knew what he was doing, egging you on like this.

You were mere milliseconds away from losing it, the edge pulling up to you so close that you could barely collect yourself as you began to feel yourself slip over it- eyes whiting out as Osamu gave you the go-ahead. 

“Just let me c-” he finished your sentence for you.

“Cum.” It was a simple word, a simple command. But the way it hit your ears: the way the low growl tore through your body- you didn't stand a chance. The warm wetness of your release sprayed against his abs, trickling down your thighs and pooling into the upholstery. Your eyes crossed, face contorting further into lewd bliss as a scream tried to escape your mouth- but only silence hiccuped its way out. 

“Good fucking girl- now take this, baby. Take it all…” God, he was the devil. 

Fucking you through it- your boyfriend chased his own high, cock twitching inside as the vision of you wrapped in lights blurring into colorful stars as he spilled into you, his load coating your insides with a mass of sticky, soothing heat. You both collapsed into each other, bodies writhing as you caught your heavy breaths. 

As he slipped out of you, Osamu lifted your hips to his mouth, sucking in the mixture of his and your own release, savoring it on his tongue. Your puffy, fucked-out cunt spasmed at the contact, the sensation overwhelming as you tugged at his steely grey locks, snapping his head back. 

“Hmmph-  s’too much ‘Samu!” Your thighs clamped together as soon as he released you.

Humming a soft apology, he moved up from your lower lips to the upper ones, pushing his tongue past them, spitting arousal across your tongue. You swallowed the mixture greedily, smiling against his lips. You could still feel ropes of cum pouring from your spamming hole and leaking onto your thighs.

“Whaddaya think?” The words were slurred against the skin at the crook of your neck while he peppered your skin with kisses.

“Delicious.” You looked at him with a smirk, mind still hazy as your body shook its way through a few more aftershocks. 

“Told ya I could make a better milkshake.”

 As he said it, laughter broke out between the two of you. Your chest struggled against the harness, as it was still pretty tight. Osamu unplugged the decorations, gently untying you as snow fell outside your living room window, the faint jingling of bells filling the room again as the tv light illuminated you both. 

 Taglist Starseeds (check ur privacy settings if your url is in bold): @honey-makki @crushzone @yumekosgamblingroom @boujiesav @onesingleravioli @ushijimasfarmhat @trouvelle @nekoma-hoe @right-shoe-jpg @atsumusc0ck @ukeis @nivky0-0 @animoozies @charmarsmith

[nataliedanovelist]

GF - The Sapling of His Labors

A Drifting Stars AU one-shot, in collaboration with @clownwry.

1st, 2nd, 4th.

~~~~~~~~~~

Ford hummed an old tune to himself as he worked on dinner. Rather than sitting in front of a fire-pit in the middle of nature, butchering food to make it edible, he was blessed to be standing in a humble kitchen with a stove, cabinets, counters, and everything. The only thing he didn’t have was a fridge or freezer, but that was okay. Ford worked calmly and at his own pace as he chopped up the onion, blinking the burning feeling away, and he used his knife to scoop the diced pieces of onion into the hot skillet, and it sizzled and immediately smelled good.

Ford smiled as he added the green bell pepper, and other delicious things from the garden, and then he gave the veggies and herbs a stir with his hand-carved wooden spoon. Estimating that dinner would be ready soon, he walked across the kitchen, through the living room with a fireplace, two rocking chairs, and a large homemade three-way desk with two chairs, and to the front door. 

The top half of the dutch door was already open, so he leaned against the bottom half of the door to watch his little girl run around with other kids her age, playing tag. “Mabel, honey, dinner!” He called. “Will you please bring some water when you come?”

“Okay!” Mabel called back cheerfully, and Ford trusted her to end the game soon and say goodnight to her friends as he went back to dinner.

The veggies were cooking well, so Ford threw some of Mabel’s special homemade butter into another pan, let it melt, and then he carefully laid two filleted fish down to cook.

The bottom half of the dutch door opened and Mabel came in with a bucket of water from their well. She grinned at the sight of him and sat the bucket down to use a ladle to pour some water into wooden cups. “Ms. Mahogany asked about you again.”

“Oh?” Ford raised an eyebrow at her, his smile still present.

“Yeah, I told her how just last night you told me you were lonely and only wanted someone to hold at night…”

Ford barked a laugh that Mabel joined in with, but she continued as she set the table. “Then she said her son is still single if…”

“Mabel, please!” Ford guffawed with rosy cheeks as he flipped the fish. “I wish you would stop trying to set me up with everyone in town.”

“But I’m a great matchmaker!”

“I know you are. Why not focus on someone else’s love-life?” Ford suggested as he began to plate the veggies.

“I don’t really care about everyone else’s love-life.” Mabel said with a shrug as she sat.

Ford snorted as he platted the fish on top of the veggies, one plate slightly smaller than the other.

“Well, not nearly as much as I care about you.” Mabel elaborated, and smiled sweetly at her uncle as he turned to set the food at the table. “I just want you to be happy, Grunkle Ford.”

The old man was a bit surprised by this, but he smiled softly and said, “I am happy, darling.” He sat the plates and himself down where they belonged, then patted his lap. “Come here.”

The girl didn’t hesitate to crawl into his lap and let him hug her. “I’ve got you.”

“Yeah, but imagine how much happier you’d be if you had me and a partner!” Mabel said optimistically.

Ford chuckled and brushed her shoulder-length hair with his six fingers. “Sweetie, I’m much happier now than I ever thought I would be.”

Mabel grinned at him and hugged him around the neck, allowing Ford to squeeze her gently and hug her back.

A little while later they sat by the fireplace, Ford in his rocking chair, and Mabel by his socked feet, propping her back against his leg as she knitted away. Ford used to tease her and wonder why he even built her a rocking chair, but once she explained she felt more comfortable against him, he let it go. Maybe next time they go to the store, he should trade fish for fabric so he can build a couch.

The eldest read a book out-loud while Mabel knitted, their favorite thing to do in the evening, when all they had for light was the fireplace and lanterns and the stars, but there were no stars tonight. Rain peacefully trickled down outside. They left the dutch door open to enjoy the smells and sounds and cool air, not a hint of a storm in sight.

Ford was enjoying the book, but not nearly as much as he enjoyed looking down at his beautiful girl. The sounds of her needles clicking as she worked, the way her brown eyes twinkled, the blush on her round cheeks, the shine in her hair. Ford had no idea what in the Multiverse he did to deserve her… No, he didn’t deserve her, but he was still grateful for her, and beyond happy he somehow managed to give her a happy life.

~~~~~~~~~~

Ford was very excited, too excited to let his little girl sleep in too much. True that he purposely got up early to get the eggs, milk the cow, and let the sheep out for her, but he decided to surprise her earlier rather than later, so he made her some pancakes and eggs, squeezed her some fresh orange juice, put a pretty flower on the tray for decoration, and tucked the present wrapped in parchment and card under his arm.

A soft knock alerted Mabel of company, and her door opening and a warm voice fully woke her up. “Mabel, honey,”

She grinned and sat up in her bed. Ford had no regrets. All his hard work was worth it for that smile. “Happy Birthday.”

Mabel was absolutely delighted by the sweet surprise, but a bit disheartened when she saw no plate for her uncle. She raised an eyebrow suspiciously at him, still too used to his bad habit of skipping meals so she could eat. Well, he didn’t have to do that anymore. “Grunkle Ford, where’s your breakfast?”

Ford smiled and chuckled. “Don’t worry, it’s all fixed and downstairs waiting for me.”

Mabel smiled again and said, “Why don’t you eat up here with me? Then I’ll open my present!”

Ford nodded. That seemed like an even better idea than eating separately. So Ford retrieved his mug of coffee and pancakes, and when he sat at the foot of Mabel’s bed, she opened the card. There was no glitter to decorate it with and the card wasn’t nearly as colorful as Mabel would have made it, but Ford still drew plenty of pretty pictures for her and wrote plenty of kind words, and more importantly, he made it just for her.

Mabel grinned and thanked him for the card, sitting by her nightstand and candle so she could see it every day, and then she tore into her present. She gasped happily and squealed at the gift. Mabel had seen Ford sew here and there, but she didn’t know this was what he was working on.

It was a large quilt. It had many different patches, some with colors, some with pictures of animals, one with a shooting star and one with a six-fingered hand. There were so many different patches that Mabel felt she could look and look without seeing every detail.

Ford rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “I asked everyone in town if they had scraps of cloth. I wasn’t sure what to get you, but you deserve something nice, and…”

“Grunkle Ford, I love it!” And Mabel let her new quilt fall on her lap so she could hug him tightly around the waist. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! I’ll use it forever! I love you, thank you!”

Ford chuckled and hugged her back tightly. “Y-You’re welcome.”

It wasn’t much, but it was better than what he could have done for her before.

~~~~~~~~~~

Ford ran as fast as he could. He didn’t care how sharply branches pricked his face or how many times he stubbed his toe on a rock or tree root. The screaming rang in his ears. Mabel needed him.

He was grateful to find Mabel up in a tree, safe, but not for long. At the base of the tree was a giant black bear, roaring and growling and scratching the tree. It wouldn’t be long until the bear decided to try to climb. Ford gritted his teeth and allowed instincts to take over, animal vs animal.

Ford threw a rock and it hit the bear on the neck, making it forget the human cub in the tree and turn to the adult to roar warningly. Then Ford shot his crossbow and it hit the bear right in the shoulder, close to the chest, but not quite enough to kill it, only to anger it. Mabel screamed for Ford to run away, to get away, but Ford stood his ground as the bear charged at him and he rolled out of the way just in time, then shot the bear again, this time hitting it’s back.

The bear turned and roared at Ford, and he was prepared to pull the knife out of his boot and do some real damage, tired of giving warnings that the bear wasn’t hearring. But then something made everyone freeze. A small wheezing roar. A squeak from a cub. The little baby black bear ran out from the bushes and to its mother, who nuzzled the cub with her nose and stood protectively. Ford lowered his crossbow and nodded. Mabel must have accidentally stumbled across the cub, must have gotten too close, and the mother was being overprotective.

The mother roared once more at the humans and ran off into the woods with her cub, taking the arrows lodge in her with her. Well, good. That’s what she gets for going near Ford’s niece. Speaking of…

Ford turned to the tree and looked up at the frightened girl. “Mabel, are you hurt?”

“N-No. I’m okay.” Mabel looked at the spot where the bears disappeared and bit her lip. “I… I didn’t even see the baby one…”

Ford smiled and nodded. “It’s alright. You’ll find parents are quite protective of their kids. Can you climb down?”

Mabel nodded and carefully made her way down the tree. When she was about halfway down, she leaped into Ford’s arms and they hugged each other tightly, the crossbow still in Ford’s hand.

“Oh, Mabel, I was so worried…”

“I’m sorry, I’m really sorry…”

“Shh, hey, it’s alright. I’m not mad.”

“I thought you… I thought…” Mabel mumbled into his shoulder, her grip on his coat extremely tight.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright. I’ve got you.” Ford muttered to her as he walked them home. “I’ve got you.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Ford walked home from the ocean, smiling with the large net filled with fish on his back. Mabel was with the sheep, as usual, and smiled and waved when she saw his safe return. The leaves were changing colors and the air was getting more comfortable and crisp. Soon winter would be with them, and rather than fish for money, Ford planned to build music boxes and carve toys, a brilliant idea Mabel had when she noticed how he missed tinkering and building. He enjoyed fishing, but it wasn’t like the old lab work that made him proud.

The next day, like always, Ford walked home and saw Mabel among the sheep, but this time she was chatting with a boy her age. Ford had seen the boy before, Mabel labeling him as a friend, but the old man couldn’t help but wonder if he should be putting money away for a small wedding, a thought that made his blood boil and his heart swell at the same time.

~~~~~~~~~~

Ford gave the soup another stir before ladling it into a bowl. Poor Mabel sat on the newly built couch, wrapped in her quilt, close to the fire, her cheeks and nose cherry red and dark circles under her eyes as she sneezed and coughed. Ford wasn’t as worried for her as he normally would be; it was just a bad cold. She would be alright. 

Weirdly enough, Mabel’s brain had decided to call it quits and she was nothing more than a rag doll, barely interactive and aware of her surroundings, which was fine by Ford. He could take care of her and the house just fine. He smiled softly and sat next to her, holding out a spoonful of warm soup for her. “Here you are, my dear. This will make you feel better.”

Shakily Mabel ate the bite she was given, but it burned and made her cough roughly. Ford rubbed her back and stirred the soup to cool it down a little. “That's it, easy does it. There we go, I’m sorry, sweetie.”

The second time was the charm; Mabel was able to swallow a second spoonful of warm soup no problem. She actually made a weak smile, then muttered to Ford, “Thanks Daddy,” and coughed roughly into her quilt. She patiently waited for her next spoonful, unaware of what she had done to Ford.

She had said it so innocently, so quietly… Was it possible, that in her weakened state, Mabel thought she was back home with her father? Even though she seemed out of it, she did seem aware of where they were; a few minutes ago, when Ford was making the soup, she had asked if the sheep were put away. And she had thanked Ford for making the soup when he first started on dinner. So, maybe, there was a small possibility that Mabel knew exactly who she was talking to, and she articulated with a title that felt fitting to her.

Ford smiled with a bit lip and held out the spoon filled with soup for her. “Y-You’re welcome.”

He smiled sympathetically as she sniffed again, her poor sinuses turned against her. But then she sniffed again, louder, and Ford began to notice it sounded different…

He also began to notice he was sore. And lying down. And wrapped up, like he was tucked in for bed.

Ford was pulled from his dreams and was sluggishly half-awake, his eyes still closed, and he bought his body some time to gather some strength by paying attention to his blind surroundings.

He could hear and feel a fire going. He was lying in a sleeping bag on the ground, and he could tell there were other things keeping him warm and wrapped up. Some damp cloth was on his forehead. And he could hear crying.

Ford forced his eyes open slowly and he discovered someone had taken his glasses off. He forced himself to work with his blurry vision and he sat up a little, leaning on his arm for support in search of his niece. She sat a few feet away, in a tight bundle. If Ford had to guess, she was hugging her knees and hiding her face in her arms and knees. “Mabel…”

She lifted her head up quickly, but then hid her face again, looking away from him and wiping her face dry with the sleeves of her coat. 

“Hey, no,” Ford said softly, taking the damp cloth off his forehead. “None of that, you don’t ever have to hide anything from me. What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

“N-No,” Mabel cleared her throat and finally turned to look at him; he was a little disheartened to see her trying to smile and still hide what was bothering her. “I’m okay. H-How do you feel? Tea is almost ready.” And she scooted closer to the fire on her knees to check on the teapot.

Ford sighed tiredly, his lips tight to try to keep her from hearing it. “Mabel…”

“Oh, here!” Mabel reached into a pocket of her uncle’s backpack and pulled out his glasses for him. “I thought I’d better take them off you so your face wouldn’t hurt.”

Ford smiled and accepted the visual aid. “Ah, thank you.” He slipped his glasses on and more clues came to his senses.

They were in the middle of the desert. Well, not entirely in the middle, it looked like there was a jungle a few yards behind them. Ford had also been blanketed with sweaters for extra warmth in the cold desert night. Everything seemed well in order and normal, except when Ford looked at his poor little girl. Her hair was a mess, frizzled and… Ford recognized that hairstyle. His hair often looked like that after he grabbed at it too roughly and tried to pull his hair out. There were dark circles under her eyes, eyes that didn’t sparkle. That legitimately scared Ford.

“Mabel…”

“Good! Tea is ready.” Mabel turned away from him again, refusing to look at him as she pulled out a cup for her uncle and poured him some hot drink. “Here, it’ll make you feel better.”

Ford accepted the drink and sat up fully. “Thank you.” He sipped it and watched Mabel carefully. She didn’t pour herself a cup. Or bring out the water canteen for something else to drink. Instead she held her knees and watched the fire dance. He opened his mouth to ask her if she was alright, but she beat him to it.

“How are you feeling? Does anything hurt? H-How’s your neck?”

“My neck?” Ford touched his throat, a bit confused, and answered, “I feel fine. Nothing hurts. Why?”

“We were ambushed. You got shot. You… You had a bad fever and wouldn’t wake up.” Mabel, still refusing to look at him, held out a dart to him that had been lying on the sand. “Here. I thought you might wanna study it.”

Ford adjusted his glasses and held the dart. It was quite long, but very skinny, and it had a red bull point at the top, like a sewing needle, but Ford recognized the dart. “Interesting. These are Hummie darts. They’re sold through the dimensions, they’re very useful for bounty hunting. See, the top here is filled with poison, just enough to render the body useless and to also hypnotize the target in a deep, dream-filled sleep. Oftentimes the dreams are the victim’s happiest memories or goals, so they won’t try to wake up. It’s also very fascinating because the side-effects are next to none, this makes these darts ideal if you want to bring someone in for questioning or for next-to-perfect condition.”

But Mabel wasn’t listening. Her eyes were still on the fire, she was still holding her knees, but her mind was elsewhere. Ford watched her mournfully and tried to remember what had happened.

Oh. Right.

They were in a different dimension than this one. They had been laughing and playing in the woods, unaware of who they were attracting. By the time Ford hoisted a laughing girl on his shoulders, a dart barely missed him and it hit a tree, causing him to run while Mabel shot pop-rocks with her slingshot. Ford can now remember feeling a tiny prick by his neck. He had hoped Mabel had accidentally pinched or pulled some skin on his neck, but she was horrified to have let a dart get past her. Ford managed to stop running and put Mabel down safely, shaking his head and even slapping himself to try to stay awake and attentive, but just as he was sharing a plan with her, he fell on his knees and collapsed into the grass, the last thing he heard was Mabel’s desperate please to be okay. Not to stay awake, not to help, but to be okay.

Ford put the dart and his tea down on the ground. “Oh, Mabel… You were amazing. Absolutely amazing! You saved us. You saved my life.”

“M-Maybe if I hadn’t asked you to play with me…”

“They were relentless. I’m glad we had fun and played.”

Mabel held herself tighter and turned her head away so it was out of sight. That broke Ford’s heart. What he wouldn’t give for her to just look at him. Had he done something? Had he scared her? He had heard that while under the influence of the Hammie darts, the body is as useless as a ragdoll, but… Oh. Maybe that had scared her. Mabel had no way of knowing what the darts did, she had no idea what kind of poison they were filled with. Did she refuse to look at Ford because when she did all she saw was the shadow of a dead man?

“Mabel,” Ford croaked longingly, and he opened his arms. “Please come here.”

Mabel was trembling. She sniffed again and swallowed a sob down.

She was a Pines, after all. She was going to be stubborn. So Ford scooted himself and the sleeping bag and pile of sweaters. He carefully began to scoop her up, but she finally broke and turned and hugged him around the neck, sobbing into his shoulder and allowing him to hold her close and burrow her in his arms and sweaters and sleeping bag.

“Shh, shh, it’s alright now.” Ford petted her hair and closed his eyes, giving everything he had into making her feel better. “I’m okay, I swear. You did an incredible job.”

“I thought… I thought…” Mabel croaked and swallowed to try to communicate better. “Y-Your eyes… they rolled! Into… y-y-you looked d…” And she choked and sobbed and held him so tightly her fingers ached, but she didn’t care.

Now Ford had never heard of that side-effect before. “Oh, Mabel, honey…”

“I k-k-know you’re okay now… I know… but I th-th-thought I was g-gonna lose you!” Mabel cried out, her throat sounding like it was going to tear in half. 

“I’m sorry…” Ford cooed to her and adjusted her so she laid by his heart and he felt her hands. Holy Moses, she was so cold. “I’m so sorry. I’m not going anywhere, I promise. I love my little starshine too much to be anywhere else.”

Mable hiccuped a weak giggle and she nuzzled her cheek against his chest. “I love you, too, D-Grunkle Ford.”

Yup. Ford wasn’t shedding tears alongside her. No. A raindrop must have fallen on his cheek. On a cloudless night. Yeah, that was it.

[shinra33459]

Simon PL600 x Male!Reader - Lost and Found

Life is a unique and strange experience, one that is made even stranger when it comes to gifts. The date was December 28, 2035, and you finally got your Christmas present from your parents. The box was a white cardboard box that stood a little over 6 feet tall and had the Cyberlife logo in all the top right faces of the box. Your parents got you an android, which was incredibly nice of them, but a fucking android!? This had to be the most expensive present they’ve gotten you yet.

           You walked from your living room into your kitchen to look for a box cutter. You didn’t want to grab a big ass kitchen knife and hack at the box; you just got this android, and you didn’t want to kill it before it even got out of the box. Searching through several drawers and cabinets, you found the old box cutter in a drawer with some tools and other stuff you had to fix anything around the house that was broken. You stepped out of the kitchen and back into your living room and approached the box, boxcutter in hand.

           You started by making an incision in the box at the upper right corner and cut along the corner all the way to the bottom. You then made an incision at the upper left corner and cut down to the bottom again. Finally, you went back to the top of the box and cut the crease from left to right, making the face of the cardboard box to fall forward onto the soft carpet. Inside the box was black, foam packaging material that concealed and protected the android inside. You grabbed the soft and spongey material and pulled away a two-inch-thick sheet which revealed the android.

           The android was slightly taller than you, standing at 6 feet and 2 inches, sporting a pale skin tone, sharp jawline, blonde hair and blue eyes. He was wearing his gray and white Cyberlife garb that had his model number on it: PL600, a domestic care android. You just stared in awe at this marvel of technology, and the fact that this marvel was in your living room. Eventually, after about 5 minutes, you decided to approach the PL600 and get it set up. You got about five feet away from the android and looked at his perfect face.

           “Hello?” you spoke to the android. The blue LED ring on his right temple instantaneously turned on, and the android came to life, stepping out of what remained of the packaging.

           “Hello, I am the PL600 android sent by Cyberlife. I can do the cooking, cleaning, childcare, manage appointments, and I am fluent in over 100 languages. Would you like to give me a name?” the android introduced himself as he looked at you for a response. You thought for a few seconds and came up with a name.

           “Your new name is Simon.” you declared while looking at the android.

           “Thank you, my name is Simon. I have already gathered your information from the online order from your parents. I’ll just need to confirm some information from you if that’s all right. Can you verify your name?” the android inquired while continuing to look at you.

           “My name is (F/N) (L/N)” you answered while still studying the android’s appearance.

           “Affirmative. Would you like to change my appearance or voice?” the android asked while it still looked directly at you.

           “No, you’re fine as you are.” you told Simon, now looking at all the intricate details on his shirt.

           “Thank you, moving on. What is my role in this household?” Simon queried while studying your (h/c) hair and (e/c) eyes. You thought for a minute since you really didn’t NEED an android in the first place, but you were going to find some way to use this $8,000 machine.

           “I could use some help with the cooking and cleaning, and I also need someone to keep the house occupied while I’m out.” you answered now looking at Simon’s shoes, noticing how neat they were.

           “Understood, sir. Is there anything that needs done at this moment?” Simon questioned as you pondered the question. You listed everything in your head you did in the last few days when it came to household chores, and the only thing that came to mind was taking down the Christmas tree and decorations.

           “I could use some help taking down the Christmas tree. The boxes are in the closet, I’ll get it.” you told the android as you went to get the box for the artificial tree and the other box for the ornaments.

           You opened the closet and grabbed both boxes, pulling them out into the living room. You and Simon then went over to the tree to begin putting it away. The tree itself wasn’t massive per se, it was only a little bigger than Simon by about 4 inches. You two started by taking the fuzzy silver and gold garland off the tree, putting it neatly in the box as to not get it tangled. Simon then started taking the lights off the tree, wrapping the cord of lights in a way that would make it impossible for the lights to get tangled up. Then you two started removing all the hanging ornaments and the tree topper, putting them into the box of ornaments alongside the garland and the lights.

           Finally, it was time to take down the tree. You and Simon started by disassembling the base and putting it into the box, then you started to remove all the branch segments, starting at the base going up, and putting them into the box. Eventually, all of the branches were in the box and it was time to put the stem in the box. The metallic stem for the fake Christmas tree came apart into three pieces, and into the box they went. Simon went to put the two boxes into the closet while you got your vacuum cleaner to clean up the tinsel and glitter left on the ground from the tree, garland, and ornaments.

           For the next half hour, you decided to take down the rest of the Christmas decorations while Simon made lunch for you. Since you haven’t went grocery shopping in a little while, Simon had to make do with the few ingredients he had to his disposal. He got some butter, canned tomatoes, an onion, bread, some leftover ham you had from Christmas, and some sliced American cheese. As you worked at cleaning up all the Christmas decorations, Simon made you some homemade tomato soup and a ham and cheese sandwich.

 TIME SKIP: February 2036

You had grown quite accustomed to Simon’s presence in your house. Everything was perfect: meals were cooked in a way that could impress Gordon Ramsay, you were never late to appointments, you never forgot any upcoming events, every room in your house was free from clutter, and most importantly of all, you had someone to talk to whenever you needed it. You cared about Simon, he quickly became your best friend in just under a month, and he was always there for you whenever you needed someone to confide in, a shoulder to cry on, someone to share a secret with, or someone to gossip with.

At first, Simon did only his tasks of cooking and cleaning, but you encouraged him to use his free time to do things that he wanted to do, or something that both of you wanted to do together. Sometimes it meant going to the library and checking out a dozen books on a variety of subjects, ranging from political books to fantasy novels. Other times it meant sitting on the couch playing video games with each other, and usually Simon would go easy on you as to not embarrass you. And when it wasn’t either of those things, you would just sit down and talk about just random topics, or do something creative like painting or drawing.

You started feeling something for this android; whenever he was with you, you felt your heart flutter, whenever he would compliment you on something, you would blush like an embarrassed schoolboy, and whenever he would get close to you, you would get flustered and start acting nervous. Simon wasn’t oblivious to this, he knew you acted this way, but he didn’t say anything about it. He was worried that if he did, it would ruin the relationship that you two had. He wished that he could be with you that way, and express true emotion, but if he did, he would be destroyed for being a deviant.

You were driving home from work, excited to tell Simon about your day and the raise you got at your job. You were driving a black 2014 Chevrolet Cruze, a decent used car that had many years on it and no shortage of miles, but still drove well enough. You approached the final stop sign before you reached your house. You engaged the turn signal to make a left turn at this stop sign, made a complete stop, gave way to oncoming traffic, and made the left turn. You continued to drive down the street towards your house, which was about a quarter of a mile away. While driving the speed limit of 30 MPH, you began thinking to yourself.

“God, Simon is perfect, from how he looks, down to his voice and mannerisms. I love him, but I know he won’t return my feelings. He’s an android, he can’t, and even if he did, they would kill him. Maybe it isn’t meant to be. We are still great friends, so I guess I should be grateful for that.” you thought to yourself as you drove, finally making another left turn, this time into your driveway.

You stopped your car in the driveway and put the car into park. You sat in your car with the engine on for a little while, just relaxing for a bit after your long day. Eventually, you turned the car off, pulled the key out of the ignition, and exited the vehicle, closing the door behind you. As you walked up to the front door from the driveway, you locked the car’s doors, because even in 2036, the old adage still rings true, “can’t have shit in Detroit”.

Simon heard you walking up to the house and opened the door, letting you inside before closing the door behind you. You hung your coat up next to the door on a hook and shoved the beanie into the right pocket of the coat, and you put your gloves in the left pocket. You sighed as you felt the relaxing warmth from your house opposed to the freezing Michigan winter outside.

“Welcome back (F/N), how was your day?” Simon inquired as he brought you over to the couch to spend some time with you. You fell backwards into the couch dramatically as Simon calmly took a seat next to you.

“All things considered, pretty great. I got a pay raise today, and I’ll be making $2 more an hour.” you excitedly told the android. Simon gave a smile as you told him this.

“That’s great! I’m happy for you, and you deserved it, especially after all the hard work you do.” Simon told you as he gave you a quick hug. You blushed as he did, your heart rate quickening.

“Thanks Simon.” you said as the android released his embrace. You continued to lounge on the couch with Simon for the next hour, talking about your day, some new drama happening at work and plans for the weekend. You and Simon kept talking until both of you heard the timer on the oven go off, and Simon got up and walked into the kitchen. You got up too and followed him to see if he needed any help.

In the kitchen, Simon put on some oven mitts and pulled a planked salmon out of the oven, cooked to perfection. On the stovetop, he had some green beans and mashed potatoes ready as well. The aroma of the food was incredible, and you knew better than anyone that Simon was the best cook in Detroit by a country mile. Simon gave you a smile that made your heart flutter in excitement.

“The food looks great Simon, thanks.” you told the android as he began plating your food. The portion sizes were perfect; just enough to keep you full, and the perfect number of calories for your lifestyle.

“You’re welcome, sir, anytime. Go to the table, I’ll bring it out for you.” Simon told you while putting the oven mitts on the countertop behind him.

You stepped out of the kitchen and noticed a terrible draft coming through your dining room and living room. You furrowed your brow as you stepped into the living room, looking for answers. As soon as your foot touched the carpet, you felt a fist connect with your diaphragm, and you fell to your knees gasping for air. You then felt a gloved hand grab a fist-full of your hair and pull your head upwards, and another gloved hand placing a knife to your throat.

“Scream for help, and you’re a fucking dead man, you hear me? Give me all of your money and I won’t kill you or that tin can of yours.” a deep and gravely voice behind you rang out, the blade of the knife was pressed right against your carotid artery, and a simple slice would send you to the morgue in a matter of moments. Unbeknownst to you, Simon saw this unfold, and he stealthily went to your bedroom to grab something.

“I-I-I don’t keep any m-money in the house, it-it’s all in the bank.” you tried to explain to the robber, but he wasn’t having any of it. The man pressed the knife even harder up against your neck, ready to end your life if you didn’t give him what he wants.

“Bullshit. Don’t lie to me you pathetic fucking worm, give me the money before I kill you and find the money myself!” the man yelled as he was fully prepared to slit your throat in the next thirty seconds.

“I-I swear that I don’t have anything, I don’t keep, I-” you frantically tried to explain again, but you were cut off by the sight of Simon, standing about ten feet away from you, with your Glock in his hand, his LED glowing a scarlet red.

“Let him go and get out of our house, now.” were the only words that escaped Simon’s lips as he looked at the robber, then to you, and back to the robber again. The robber let out a soft chuckle as he found the situation amusing.

“Fuck you, you plastic piece of shit. You can’t do a fucking thing to me; you’re specifically programmed to not harm humans. I could slit his throat right now, and you couldn’t do shit about it.” the robber exclaimed as he positioned the knife to do just what he’s been threatening to do to you.

Simon saw it: the red wall, his obedient programming. It was telling him to just call the police, your life and safety be damned. He couldn’t do it; he couldn’t lose you to some lowlife with a knife who was just looking for money to get his fix on whatever street drug of his choice. He began hitting and smashing the wall, you were behind it and if he didn’t tear that wall down, you would be gone forever. He punched, slammed, kicked, and rammed the wall, it had to break, it had to.

After smashing the wall for what seemed like an eternity for Simon, he saw the wall shatter like a pane of breakaway glass. As soon as the wall shattered, he did it; in one swift motion he raised the pistol, took aim, and pulled the trigger, the 9mm bullet spiraling through the robber’s forehead, and exiting out the back of his head, instantly killing the criminal. The robber’s body instantly went limp, and the lifeless corpse fell backwards onto the carpet floor, a red stain progressively getting bigger as the body lied there.

Your ears were ringing from the loudness of a gun going off indoors, and Simon was still standing there with the gun raised as if the robber were still alive. Then the gravity of the situation hit Simon like a ton of bricks; he just killed a man, he was a deviant now, and if anyone besides you were to know this, he would be destroyed. You got up, and slowly walked towards your android companion.

“Simon are you okay?” you questioned your friend even though he still looked distressed by what he just did. He looked at you and was going to say something, but the sounds of sirens in the distance and red and blue flashing lights that he could see at the end of the street getting closer spooked him, and Simon dropped the gun and took off running, barging out your backdoor to escape. He didn’t want you to have to see him being killed.

“Wait! SIMON!” you called after him trying to get up off the floor to chase after him, but he was long gone, and you assumed that you would never see him again as he raced off into the frigid winter of Detroit, Michigan.

 TIME SKIP: Early-November 2038

             Your life had gone downhill significantly in the last 4 months. From February 2036 until July of 2038, you spent almost all your free time trying to find Simon, but to no avail. Your friends and family thought you were insane; why would you want to track down a deviant android who shot and killed someone? You knew that you would never find him if you only had 12 hours, two days a week to find him, so on July 16, 2038, you sold your house and almost all your belongings to get enough money to hopefully find him. Enough money to live on the streets and not go hungry. The only things you didn’t sell were your gun, some of your clothes, your car, and your phone.

           You had spent months asking about Simon, going all over the city and surrounding areas, asking anyone, and everyone where he could possibly be. Eventually you got a tip from a homeless person that heard rumors about deviant androids in Ferndale and some other useless information, but you really couldn’t expect precise articulation from some meth-head in a seedy bar in Detroit.

           So, que you, walking through Ferndale in the dead of night looking for the android you fell so hard for two years ago that may or may not even be alive anymore. You had been doing this for the last few days. You would search a part of the town at night as to not attract unwanted attention from bystanders and the police, and in the day, sleep in your car. You searched everywhere in Ferndale besides one place, a place you were actively avoiding: it was an abandoned freighter named Jericho. The ship was in a state of disrepair, and it was pretty wise to avoid exploring an abandoned ship that’s slowly being consumed by rust, but it was the last place in Ferndale you HAVEN’T looked thus far.

           You stepped out of your car with your gun in your right hand. You pulled the slide to the pistol back and released it, chambering a round. You put the pistol in your left breast pocket in your jacket and began walking towards the ship. If anything were to get butterflies going in your stomach, walking into a place where androids may or may not be with a high possibility that a few of them would be hostile towards humans would definitely be one of those scenarios.

           After scouting a way to get on this ship, you found that the only real way was to make a one-hundred-foot fall which would kill you as soon as you hit the floor, so you started looking through the old warehouses nearby to find some way to get into the ship without killing yourself. In one of the warehouses, you found a grappling hook and about 50 feet of rope, just enough to get you onto the deck of the ship.

           Heading back to the perch above the boat, you got the grappling hook well secured and slowly started descending the rope, focusing on not dying from doing something so unbelievably stupid that even Johnny Knoxville would call you a moron. You had to use all of your grip strength and upper body strength to not plummet to your demise. Inching downwards, the deck of the boat got closer and closer, and eventually you got to the point where you could safely drop down without injuring yourself.

           Plopping onto the deck, you got your bearings straight, looking at the dimly lit, rusty artefact of the Great Lakes and America’s former manufacturing might. You started by walking astern towards the bridge. It was going to take hours to explore this entire ship to find one person, you might as well get some sort of plan for how you’re going to find him. Your plan was pretty simple and was as follows: you would start at the main deck of the ship and work your way down every deck until you were positive you had searched everywhere.

           You entered the ship near the bridge, pulled out your flashlight, and looked around. The derelict and rotting ship proved to be pretty inhospitable looking to say the least, with the walls and bulkheads covered in rust or some even completely rusted through. To your right, you saw an old, plastic hardhat, which you took and immediately put on your head; the last thing you needed was a piece of rusty ship falling on your head and caving in your skull. With your flashlight in your left hand, you began exploring the ship.

           You could hear the ship creaking as it was just sitting there, docked and rotting away. You also heard water dripping in various rooms throughout the vessel. Room after room, and after the first few decks, you were slowly soldiering on, looking for Simon. You stood at an intersection, wondering where to go now.

           “This is fucking stupid.” you thought to yourself as you looked down one of the many passageways on the ship. You were pulled from your thoughts when you heard footsteps quickly approaching behind you. You turned to see a redheaded woman quickly approaching you with a baseball bat in her hands. Before you could even react, she lifted the bat and WHACK! She hit you in the head, but luckily you were wearing the hardhat, otherwise you’d be dead from how hard she swung alone.

           Seeing double, you backed up as quickly as you could and drew the pistol tucked away in your jacket and attempted to take aim. Before she could get another swing in to finish you off or before you could pull the trigger, you heard an authoritative male voice ring out.

           “North, enough!” the voice commanded from the darkness of the passageways of the ship. The female stopped her onslaught on command, but you kept your pistol trained on your attacker even though your aim was shakier than Porky the Pig in a paint mixer.

           “Markus, he’s a human, we can’t have him around here!” the redheaded woman shouted back into the darkness. You heard slower footsteps coming from your right and you saw a tan skinned man with a buzzcut, and heterochromatic eyes approach you two.

           “So, what if he is? That doesn’t give you permission to kill someone on sight just for walking in here.” the tanned man retorted to his colleague before bringing his attention to you.

           “You have to forgive her; she’s had nothing but bad experiences with humans. I’m so sorry about all of this. But firstly, who are you?” the man questioned you as you slowly lowered your pistol but were ready to use it at a moment’s notice.

           “I’m (F/N) (L/N), and I’m looking for my friend. He’s been missing for almost three years now.” you explained to the man as you were still very groggy from getting hit in the head with a baseball bat.

           “Why did you come here specifically? What makes you think that he would be here?” the man interrogated you again, looking for reasons as to why you intruded into what seemed to be his home.

           “I came here because he’s an android. I got him as a gift from my parents and we became the best of friends. I was such a fool; I fell for him but never told him. He saved my life by deviating and killing a man who threatened to kill me.” you told the man as you gripped your head, the pain from the impact starting to set in. This time the man remained silent, so you decided to speak again.

           “I loved him, and I miss him every day. I never got to tell him that or even get a chance to say goodbye. I heard rumors about a deviant hideout somewhere in Detroit and I wanted to see if I could find him just to tell him these things, and just to see if he’s okay, that’s all I want.” you explained as you looked at the two androids as they looked at each other. The man looked at you again and spoke up.

           “What is his name?” was all he asked as he looked you dead in the eyes. You locked gazes with the android before speaking again.

           “Simon. He is a PL600.” you stated to the two androids, your hope soaring high that he could still be alive. Before either android could speak up, you heard more footsteps followed by a remarkably familiar voice.

           “What’s going on, I heard a commotion and I thought-” the voice spoke, and you saw him again, Simon, the first time in 2 years.

           “Simon is that really you?” you asked the android as he stood there shocked, looking at you as if he saw an apparition.

           “(Y/N), what are doing here?” Simon barely squeaked out, astonished that he was seeing you before him. You leapt forward enveloping the android in a loving embrace as you began to weep.

           “I-I thought you were d-dead!” you exclaimed through sobs as you clutched the android, thinking that if you let go for even a microsecond, he would disappear again. Simon clutched you as well pulling you protectively closer to himself, shushing you and trying to get you to calm down. You wept and sobbed for about 5 minutes as years of burden were lifted from you.

           “I-I missed you so much, I thought that you were gone forever, and I never got to say goodbye.” you cried into the android’s shoulder, begging God to never take Simon away from you ever again. “I gave up everything I had just so I could find you, my house, job, everything. I never got to tell you something and it’s chipped away at me for years.” you told Simon as he kept you close, fearing that HE might lose YOU.

           “What did you want to tell me?” Simon questioned as he pulled away slightly to look at your face. You leapt forwards and kissed the android on the lips, savoring what you wished you did that day after work. Simon was surprised by this and kissed you back, wishing to rA9 that you would never go. You pulled away to look at his beautiful ocean-blue eyes.

           “I love you. I always have, and always will, if you’ll have me?” you asked Simon as you played the love’s version of Russian roulette. You noticed as the LED on Simon’s temple glowed a steady golden color before turning blue once more.

           “YES!” Simon exclaimed as he pulled you into another short kiss. “I love you too and will love you until the day I permanently shut down.” Simon told you as you stayed in his loving arms.

           North had left by that point to do whatever she needed to do, but Markus stayed behind to watch this display of affection between a new couple. You turned around to see Markus with a smile on his face as he looked at the love a human and an android can have. Markus looked you in the eyes as he made a decision.

           “I’ve always thought that having a human in Jericho could help teach those among us that hate humanity, that the human race isn’t entirely evil. Wouldn’t you agree, Simon?” Markus asked your new lover which got Simon’s gaze off of you and towards his leader.

           “Yes, that could definitely work. We should strive for harmony together and this would be a great steppingstone to do so. What to you think?” Simon asked you as he looked back down at you. You thought about it and decided in favor of it. Humans should live peacefully with androids as equals and should love each other.

           “I’m up for it.” you say as you look up at your android boyfriend, mesmerized by his still perfect appearance.

           “Well, then it’s decided. Welcome to Jericho, (Y/N). Here we’ll forge a better future for androids and mankind.” Markus declared before he and Simon walked you down to the rest of the deviants on the ship.

           You found Simon after years, years of never giving up and never taking the easy way out, and you were rewarded for it. The reward you got was one in which you got to confess your love to the one who you always loved, and on top of that, you get to make a better, harmonious world at his side; a world in which humanity and androids can live in peace and love, together, forever.

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

cal and reader broke up months ago and see each other for the first time again at a christmas party which was their favorite holiday together.

Gotcha! Reader Insert. 

Enjoy the Christmas 2020 Blurb Masterlist

Enjoy my full masterlist

______________________________

Calum knew this was going to be a bad idea. The second Luke mentioned the holiday party, Calum immediately knew he wouldn’t be going. Or at the very least, he shouldn’t go. He should most definitely not go to a Christmas themed. Not one that he had a sneaky suspicion that you’d be at. However as the weeks passed and the guys assured Calum that from what they knew, you wouldn’t be there and even if you were, they’d make sure to be there for him. Not that he thought he needed it, but it was a Christmas themed party above anything and everything and that just made it harder. 

Calum leaves the safety of the group to grab a drink. He had been nursing an empty cup for almost an hour now, mostly he didn’t want to go too far tonight. If he went too far he was bound to find that sad wall. It was literally a sad wall, but more like the wall of sadness. He’d get too drunk and the sadness that he had been slowly dealing with would overtake him again. And he’d curse everything all over again and he’d wallow in despair all over again and he’d want to hide in his sheets all over again and that’s not what he needed. He was making progress and maybe it’s just fear. Maybe it’s fear of the sadness creeping back in that makes Calum keep himself in check. He could probably go ham but he didn’t want to. He didn’t want the damn wall of sadness anymore. 

“Oh, sorry,” a voice calls out. 

“No, it’s okay,” Calum says looking up. He's not even sure what someone would be apologizing for. He catches movement, a hand snatching back like retreating from a hot stove. You. He’s staring at you. 

“Sorry,” you state again and then turn your heel. 

Calum grabs the beer from the cooler and then grabs another one too. “Hey, no, two people can get a drink at the same time.”

You turn back around and see the bottle of bee he has extended out to you. You take it though it’s cold and dripping with a bit of water from sitting in the puddle of melted ice at the bottom. “Thanks.”

Calum nods, taking in the antler headband on your head. He chuckles just a little and you take in Calum. The leather jacket, tanned skin still inked in tattoos, his chubby cheeks and the Santa hat on his head. It’s the only you gave him that matches your antlers. “It appears we still enjoy Christmas.”

You laugh just a little. “Yeah, it would appear so.”

He leans into the wall next to the counter of booze and tips the bottle of his neck towards you. “Do you remember when I tried to bake you Christmas cookies and nearly smoked out the entire house?”

“Yes, because you tried to set a timer for 10 minutes and set one for 10 hours and didn’t catch it until about half an hour later.”

Calum nods with a bit of cringe. “Not my shining moment.”

“Not worse than the first time we can to this very Christmas party and I got drunk off my literal ass and I vomited on your new shoes. In front of pretty much any and everyone that could advance your career.”

“We were outside and it was dark. Not that bad.” You raise your bottle at him and take a sip. “But what was good was your tree decorating skills. I haven’t quite captured your magic, not for trying.”

“The secret,” you start only interrupted by a sip of your beer, “is my mother. She gets new decorations every few years and us kids divvy up the the goods.”

Calum laughs. “Ah, was always your mum.” He liked your mum. She was always warm to him, let him help her in the kitchen whenever he would visit. She always sent him cards too, little silly ones just to make him laugh. You did things like that too. But you were more food based, you’d make new recipes or his favorite meals for him and there never needed to be any rhyme or reason for it--you’d just do it out of love. 

To be honest, he still liked you. 

“I almost called you,” you confess and you know you shouldn’t say it. But you’ve been a few beers deep into the night, even a shot or three. And the words are just tumbling over your lips. “Last week, a friend of a friend told them about this Christmas party and they invited me along and I almost called you.”

Calum perks up at the confession, even sets his beer onto the table and steps in closer to you. He leans into the counter and you’re still leaning into the wall, but your shoes touch at this juncture. “Almost called me, and said what?”

“Almost asked you if we should show up with your Santa and reindeer headgear but it seems like we were already on the same wave length,” you tap his boot with the toe of yours. 

Calum chuckles, arms folded across his chest. “I was told to wear something festive and this was all I had that didn’t seem like I was trying to win the ugly Christmas sweater contest.”

“I take personal offense--I bought those sweaters!”

“We won that year and I thank you for that. But I wasn’t looking for a repeat. Besides, everyone would know.”

“Oh, screw them. Those were good ugly sweaters.” The two of you share another laugh and Calum sighs, staring at the cut of jaw, the slope of your cheek, how your eyelashes seem to move in slow motion when you blink. He drops his head. He shouldn’t ask. He should keep his mouth shut. 

“What happened to us?” he asks with a sad sigh. 

You sigh and stand up straight against the wall. This is not the conversation you wanted to have. And sure, skipping down memory lane was not the wisest choice the two of you made. But you are not going down this again. You couldn’t. “Calum I-I can’t.”

He sees your gears turning, knows you’re going to leave him again and he takes hold of your wrist. “Hey, no. I’m sorry. That was stupid to ask. I’m sorry.”

You turn to him and see the sad creases in his brows. “Time is what happened to us, Calum. Your career’s taking off. I’m finally figuring out what I really want to do with my life and time’s just not nice to people like us in this stage of our lives.”

“What about now? What’s time doing now for us?”

You sigh, finally looking up at Calum and your heart skips a beat. “I-I don't know. But I do know is that I do still have feelings for you Calum. And that’s not something I can lie about. Not to your face. But you’re going to be leaving still and I’m still going to want you there. And we will always be slightly misaligned.”

“No, don't say that. Please don’t say that. I love you and I hate that the universe is not being favorable to us. But goddamn, I can’t let you go again.”

And it’s just you and Calum staring at each other. You’re not sure if you want to set yourself up for potential heartbreak again. But it’s Calum. The man that even sometimes you wanted to ring his neck for not getting it sometimes, always managed to get in the end, the man that always knew what you needed with barely a glance and was okay with silence, but always ready to give you a good time when you wanted it. 

“Then don’t.”

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

HASO, “A bucket.”

I wrote this little fluff piece this morning because I didn’t have the energy to write anything else. Still fighting with my motivation right now, but I hope you all like it :)

The air smelled like fall, wet dirt, a chill, and the unmistakable tang of mouldering leaves raked into large yellowing piles. The sky overhead was blue, and it was just beginning to warm as the sun peaked higher into the sky.  Standing on the sidewalk, he stared down the street of his childhood watching orange and yellow leaves fall to the pavement. In the distance he could hear the shouting of children, and watched decorative skeletons clatter and blow in a light wind.

A soft crunching noise jogged him from his musings, and he turned to see Sunny contemplatively staring at a yellowed leaf, only to watch her pop it into her mouth and crunch on it like it was a potato chip.

He frowned at her and she turned to look at him, “What?”

“Seriously?”

“What do you mean, Seriously?”

“Gonna go ahead and eat the fall ambiance?”

She frowned at him,” The trees aren’t using them anymore, and I don’t see you eating them.” He just shook his head at her, and turned to walk up the front steps and onto the porch. She paused to stare at the cluster of pumpkins on the front steps, and the grizzly faces that were carved into them. His father was a master at pumpkin carving, evidenced by the fact that Sunny made, “What the hell.” she turned to look at Adam and he shrugged.

“What are those?”

“Pumpkins/”

“That does not answer my question.”

“THey are a type of squash or gourd or…. Or something. People grow and eat them most of the time, but it is traditional, in october to carve scary faces on them for fun. Maybe mom has another one lying around and will let you try it out.”

“But why?”

“Back in the day people thought that doing this would help to fend off evil spirits, but now it is more of a contest to flex who is the most artistic. Dad wins every year.”

They stepped onto the porch where fallen leaves were still clinging wetly to the front steps and knocked.

“It’s open!” Came the voice from inside 

The two of them slipped in, Adam taking off his shoes and Sunny wiping her damp feet on the entrance rug.

They walked into the living room to find his mother, Martha sitting on the floor at the center of an explosion of pictures, and a couple of open binders.

Adam and Sunny walked in very carefully stepping over the pictures.

“Sorting the photo album again?” “Again, the last time I did this was almost ten years ago.” 

Adam wantered closer to his mother and Sunny curiously examined some of the photos, until one caught her eye.

A very tiny, chubby human barely able to stand on his own, and with bright green eyes.

She picked up the picture gingerly in one hand, “Awww is this you? You and your fat little cheeks.”

Adam turned, and Sunny held up the picture. Adam blushed and Martha laughed, Sunny looked at the next picture in the line, which seemed to be paired to the first, but now the small boy had a large bucket on his head, his feet sticking out from underneath. The bucket had holes in the side.

“What are you doing.”

Martha laughed again, “We were playing hide and seek.” Adam was still blushing madly as she continued, “He grew into his intelligence late in life.”

***

Martha walked slowly from the back room into the living room, “Ready or not here I come.”

The house was mostly quiet. The rest of her brood was out with their father on a hike for the day, but their littlest had woken up with a slight cough so she had decided to keep him home. He had spent the first half of the day lethargic, but around lunch time after some strawberries he had perked up and become  his usual exhausting self.

“Come out come out. I’m gonna get you.”

It was the giggling that gave him away, but when she turned to look she paused, sagged a bit and rolled her eyes covering her smile and laugh with a hand. The living room was completely clean, aside from a round laundry basket sitting dead in the middle, and two chubby little legs sticking out from under it. Not to mention that since it was a laundry basket it had holes in the side, and she could see him looking at her from inside.

She discreetly took a picture and quietly to herself Lord child i hope you grow into your brains soon

But instead of calling him out on his hiding spot she wandered around the room hands on hips, “Now where could he have gone…. Could he be under here?”

Giggling 

She kept up the pretence for the longest time until he seemed to have gotten tired of her charade. She heard the bucket tip over and he ran over on his stubby little legs grabbing her by the leg.

She acted surprised, “OH there you are!. I have been looking ALL over.”

He grinned and hugged her leg again.

She reached down and picked him up and he rested his head against her shoulder.

That was another thing about her youngest. He was VERY VERY cuddly, and she idly wondered what that would translate to when he got older. She patted his back and tried to fix his unruly blond hair which stuck up from all sides of his head, but it was no use, she sighed and gave up.

Oh well, she tried her best.

***

“You know honestly sometimes he is STILL as dumb as a pile of bricks.” Sunny mused setting the picture back down.

Adam rubbed the back of his neck, “I got my masters in aviation and orbital physics.””

“And yet who is the one who insists on putting strange alien plants in his mouth without knowing i they are safe or not.”

Martha frowned at her youngest.

He frowned back, “That is hardly fair, you eat them.”

“I also eat leaves, doesn’t mean you can too.”

She sifted through the pictures and barked a laugh at one that caught her eye, she picked it up, what are you doing. She turned the picture around, and Adam blushed madly. Martha laughed, “Oh yeah, we had to call the fire department for that one.”

“No, no no we are not going to be telling that story.”

A firefighter and a cop framed either side of the picture both giving exaggerated thumbs up with a young boy\ mabe seven or eight in the background stuck, backside first in a bucket of some sort, looking very embarrassed.

Martha grinned, “I think you were seven or eight maybe.”

“IT was Jeromy’s fault.”

****

“I dare you.”

The four boys and one girl stood  at the top of the hill staring down.

Maya, who was fifteen years old, older by five years than Jeremy who was eleven, frowned down the hill, “What if he runs into one of those trees.”

“He's got a thick skull, he’ll be ok.” Thomas said ruffling Adam’s hair viciously so the younger boy squirmed protested and ducked away. Adam was a very small boy, shorter than average and very thin. His clothes always seemed too big, his shirts baggy, and the shorts he was wearing were forced to stay on only by the belt his father had had to poke three more holes into to make it fit.

Even his sneakers seemed too big flopping around on his feet with floppy untied laces. 

“Who is even going to fit in that?” David asked.

Arguably the smartest of the three brothers, it hadn’t occurred to the others that none of them would fit.

That’s when all their heads turned to look at Adam.

Adam frowned, “But I don’t want to.”

“Chiken.” Thomas said 

“Come on your the only one small enough.” Jeremy urged.

“I see your chances of dying as very low, “ David interjected helpfully.

Maya tossed her braid back over one shoulder, “We should at least put some padding down at the bottom. Because if he gets hurt mom will kill me.”

Maya was technically supposed to be babysitting them, and keeping them out of trouble. But as was common with their family, she was not immune to the pull of a hair brained idea especially not when she was just to curious to see how it turned out.

Adam stomped his foot, “But you guys ALWAYS make me do it.”

“Because the buckets are ALWAYS too small for us, “Come on don’t be a chicken.”

Adam sighed and walked over to the barrel. He tired crawling inside it backwards, and when that didn’t work he attempted to go in face first, but every time he was just to tall.

He shook his head, “Too small.”

David looked at him very thoughtfully, and then an idea seemed to jump into his head.

“Not if we fold you in half.”

Adam frowned at him.

“Come on, hold the barrel upright.” The other boys did as told, while David instructed Adam to sit inside butt first.

Adam frowned, “But that doesn’t sound very comfortable, and how am I going to get out.”

“We will tip you out, don’t worry.”

Adam frowned but then allowed himself to slide down into the barrel. It was immediately very uncomfortable.

He wanted to tell them to pull him out but by that time he had been tipped over onto his side, “Ready?”

“No.”

They ignored him.

Adam was near panicking now, it wasn’t exactly easy to breathe.

“Three, two, one.”

And then the world was spinning around him. He rocked and bounced and spun so fast his eyes rolled inside his head. He screamed but the scream was cut off as he slammed painfully into something.

Dazed and sure he was going to vomit, he heard voices.

“Oh no, Adam!”

“Adam are you ok!”

Footsteps raced down the hill.

“Oh no we killed him!”

“Shut up He’s still alive, look.” Something kicked his foot, and he groaned.

He’s still breathing.

“Let him out.”

Something tugged on his feet. But it only managed to pull him and the barrel with it.

“Here you guys hold the bucket and we will pull him out.

Wat ensued was a horrible tug of war on his legs and on the bucket neither of which seemed to want to let go.

“STOP!”

They dropped his legs.

“Um, what if we tipped the bucket upside down?”

“Ok.”

The four of them tried really hard, and at one point almost succeeded until someone’s hand slipped and Adam crashed into the ground very painfully. He was near panic now, “Guys! Get me out of here.”

David patted his foot, “Its ok, ill get you out, ‘we just need science.”

Science turned out to be a  shoddy pulley system that went over the swing set and was designed to let them lift the bucket by way of rope and shake Adam out onto the ground.

The problem was the rope kept slipping off the bucket.

“Oh… no.”

A car rolled over gravel.

“Oh no, dad’s home.”

They heard a car door slammed shut, and Adam felt as the others hurriedly rolled him behind the swingset.

A door opened and the jangle of keys followed their father around the side of the house.

“There you all are, glad to see everyone is still in one piece, you didn’t burn the house down.”

“Nope.”

“Nope.”

There was sudden silence, “Where is Adam.”

“Uh, he…. He is us, around here somewhere.” Jeremy had always been bad at lying 

Their father turned his gaze on Maya, “Maya what is going on.”

“Uh…. nothing dad, we….”

“Don’t even try it….”

She sagged a bit, “We got Adam stuck in a barrel.”

There was a moment of silence, he heard the shifting of footsteps, “You got Adam stuck in a-” The light filtering into the barrel was cut off and he saw the silhouette of his father’s head, “Huh, you weren’t kidding. You are okay in their kiddo.”

His muffled reply came.

“Yeah…. I guess.”

Their dad grabbed the barrel by one end, tipped it over and shook Adam a few times. WHen nothing happened he gently set him back down, “Huh.”

“I hold and you pull his feet, “” They tried again but it didn’t work the second time either.

“Well, I have some tools in the garage.”

Adam began to panic as he thought of his dad's circular table saw.

“NO!”

“Ok ok.”

He heard his dad quiet for a minute and then, “Hey Joe, yeah this is Jim Vir….. doing good, and you, how about the family….. Glad to hear it….. Yeah anyway, my kids got my youngest boy stuck in a barrel like the geniuses they are, and I can’t seem to get him out. You want to send me a firefighter or two with something that can help….. Yeah thanks joe.”

Adam was relieved.

Of course as it turned out it was a slow day at both the police department AND the fire station, so what came rolling up was a motorcade of emergency vehicles. Adam was so embarrassed he wished he could melt through the barrel and into the ground as a group of cops and firefighters walked over to peer down at him from above.

“That looks comfortable.”

“How are you doing there son?”

There barrel was tipped back over, and he even saw his father sna a few pictures as the firefighters and police went to work surrounding the barrel. Of course since the entire towns emergency crew were here that drew curious neighbors who couldn’t help but laugh along with Jim at the antics of his children.

The wors part is when Martha showed up, and ran from the car scared out of her mind assuming something horrible had happened, only to find her husband laughing and taking pictures with the local emergency response team, and her youngest stuck in an oversized bucket.

At the end of the day they were forced to cut him out, but the sweet relief when he tipped onto the ground free at least was almost worth the embarrassment. He might not have thought that if he had known there was still a picture in both the police department and the fire station of him as a kid stuck in a barrel.

***

Sunny was laughing at him by the time Martha was done with her story.

He grimaced, “Why do you only keep finding the embarrassing pictures.

“Oh what is this,”

“What are you wearing?”

Adam covered his eyes.

“Oh yeah, I couldn’t get my other boys to wear it, but he would model anything for me when I needed it. This was when I was doing a commission for a Seventies themed party. Isn’t he adorable.”

“Is that a jumpsuit, and what is with those glasses.”

Adam looked up at the sky.

“And of course when Maya moved out, and I didn’t have the money for a mannequin….”

Sunny picked up another picture, “That is one big ass dress.”

“Ah yes the bell skirts, doesn’t he look nice.”

Adam grunted and cleared his throat, “I think you'll find corsets are surprisingly comfortable. Second of all, I rock the regency and victorian periods, and no one can tell me otherwise.”

He might as well own it.

This was the 41st century, dresses weren’t just for women anymore, and some of them had been quite comfortable.

They would never really be his style, but he could see  why someone else would find them appealing.

By this point both Sunny and martha had migrated to the couch where they looked through embarrassing pictures of him as a baby and shared embarrassing stories. Sometimes gross stories as he sat on the other side of the room and suffered silently. Sunny seemed to be enjoying herself though, so he let it slide.

Seeing her happy was nice, since it hadn’t been very common over the past few months.

He blamed himself for that, and wondered idly how long it would take for her to fully forgive him.

He hoped not long.

[fallingappleshurt]

Could you possibly write a SBI FD AU of all of the boys at Christmas. Could be at Christmas or any other time during the winter. Genuinely all I want to read right now. <3

Ty, Anon

Snowy Boys Incorporated (Part 1/2)

Sorry y’all, apparently word limits are a thing but anyways here it is!

Sorry if the flow of this was weird, it jumps from Phil to Tommy to Techno back to Tommy then to Wilbur, I have no excuse

This AU was made my the wonderful @antarctic-bay go check her out! And please keep in mind my writing isn’t canon!

Also the two times French is mentioned I used google translate because I am tired

Anyways hope you enjoy!

Phil parked the car and texted Techno and Wilbur to come help him and Tommy with the tree and ornaments. He turned off the engine and pocketed his phone, hoping Techno and Wilbur had actually moved the furniture to make room for the tree while him and Tommy had actually got the tree and ornaments from a storage unit.

“Phil- Phil! The tree is stuck!” Tommy said, Phil could hear him yanking at the box.

“Hang on, watch the ice,” Phil came around to the trunk of the car, ignoring the snowflakes fluttering down, he saw Tommy trying to shake the box from it’s jammed position.

“How did you manage this?”

“I don’t know!”

“Let me try,” Phil grabbed the sides of the box, trying to slowly wedge it out, but to no avail. “How did you do this?”

“Wh- How is this my fault?” Tommy cried, starting to pull at the box again.

“You’re the one that packed it!”

“What are you guys doing?” Phil looked over to see Techno standing by the car, eyebrow raised.

“Tommy’s shit at packing and got the tree stuck.”

“That sounds like him-”

“Hey!”

“You’re just mad-” Techno was caught off guard by Wilbur coming up behind him, slipping, and knocking them both to the ground.

“Wilbur what the fuck!”

“I slipped!”

“Get off of me!” Phil cackled as Tommy laughed loudly, wheezing at the end.

“That’s what you get for being an asshole! Instant karma!”

Techno responded by grabbing a fist full of snow and throwing it at Tommy, it landed on his chest and he yelped.

“It got in my shirt!”

“Good.”

After Techno and Wilbur had untangled themselves and dusted the snow from their clothes, they started to help them with the tree. They ended up having Techno climb into the car and lower one of the backseats and after much more struggling and wiggling the box they managed to free the tree from its very old, silver chamber.

Wilbur grabbed the boxes of ornaments and started up the stairs while Tommy and Techno followed with the tree and Phil locked up the car, listening to his brother's banter and hoping they actually wouldn’t try to race up the stairs.

He was glad to see his brothers more relaxed, they had all been stressed with finals right before break, he had come home from work many nights seeing them with books and papers spread out across the table, empty cups of coffee and energy drink cans littered around.

It was nice to see them fooling around.

Phil entered the apartment and slipped off his shoes, throwing them in the pile, to see Techno dragging the tree out of it’s box while Tommy and Wilbur pulled cobwebs off of ornaments.

They set up the tree in the corner of the room by a window and started to mess with the cords to plug in the lights, after unplugging and replugging every cord they managed to fit the tree lights in.

They started decorating, adding on colorful glass balls and a few candy canes just to be extra even though they knew Wilbur would eat them later.

Phil grabbed his personal favorite ornament, a wooden one with Snoopy and Woodstalk wearing santa hats in the snow, and hung it on the tree. They each had a favorite ornament, Techno’s was a mini violin, Wilbur’s an ornate snowflake, Tommy’s was a glass pickle. They were all hung on the front of the tree where they were easily seen.

They still had some of the little foam ornaments, the kind that are made in elementary school and kept for nostalgia and nostalgia only. Some still had pictures, Phil with an old striped bucket hat that they only let him keep for the first day of school. He missed that hat, it had been lost in a move.

Pulling more from the box, he found a snowman with a picture of Techno, glasses too big for his face, smiling shyly at the camera with paint on his hands. A baby blue foam mitten had a picture of Wilbur, who wasn’t facing the camera, with wild hair and a huge grin on his face as he slapped at a toy keyboard. A fading gingerbread man had a picture of Tommy grinning, eyes squeezed shut with colorful band aids across his face.

He took pictures with his phone and hung them up on the tree, much to his younger brother's annoyance.

Wilbur scrapped old tinsel out of the bottom of the boxes and put a few strands on the tree. Tommy grabbed the bundles of old lights and proceeded to strong them along the walls of the apartment.

“These are the next best things to LED lights,” He said, almost matter-of- factly, Phil just laughed as Tommy attempted to tape some of the wire to the wall. He was eventually able to pull it off after continually yelling at Techno to bring him duct tape and ‘fucking help him or he’d shake the bunk’.

After they had finished setting it up, they turned off all the lights except for the tree and strung ones on the wall. The colorful candy ones shown in the window by the tree and the golden light showed nicely against their white walls.

“The yellow lights kind of look like fireflies,” Techno mused, rubbing at his eyes.

“Maybe in video games, but this is the real world,” Tommy scoffed.

“Aww, are you tired?” Wilbur teased voice raising multiple octaves, “Little Blade need a na-”

Techno shoved Wilbur’s face away, “Shut up Wilbur,” He grumbled.

“When was the last time you slept?” Phil asked.

“Uh,” Techno paused for much longer then necessary, “Can’t remember.”

“Huh, that’s definitely not concerning-”

“I think this looks great!” Tommy interrupted, “Considering half of this stuff was covered in cobwebs!”

Phil nodded, “Oh wait, we forgot the star!” He started digging through one the boxes, his brothers left him to it and sat down on the couch. The star was always Phil’s thing, it was never a spoken rule, just something they had agreed on. Once he found it, Phil placed it on the tree then sat down next to his brothers.

He asked Wilbur about his day and Wilbur told him about finals hell and how every student looked dead or was trying to sleep in the cafeteria.

He turned to the others only to find that Techno and Tommy had already passed out, leaning on each other. Phil nudged Wilbur with his elbow, nodding towards the sleeping pair. They both pulled out their phones, taking pictures.

“Blackmail?” Phil asked, a grin pulling at his lips. Wilbur nodded.

“Blackmail.”

Phil took Techno’s glasses off of his face and set them on the coffee table and Wilbur covered them with a blanket.

The next morning Tommy sat up groggily, his first thought being that he was really hungry, so after untangling his and Techno’s limbs he padded into the kitchen. He started making a bowl of cereal and scrambled eggs, he made them in the lazy way, whisking the eggs with a fork then putting them in the microwave.

Then he remembered that it had been snowing the day before and rushed over to the window. A thick white blanket covered the terrain, sparkling white with soft gray clouds coating the sky. He opened the window and poked at the snow. He squished a fistful in his palm, it was packed, heavy snow.

Perfect for snowball fights.

He was going to destroy his brothers.

He closed the window then went to grab his food and sat at the table. A few minutes later he saw Techno sit up and rub at his eyes, Tommy watched him look around for a moment.

“Glasses are on the coffee table,” He supplied, taking a bite of cereal, Techno gave him a thumbs up then headed into the kitchen, starting to make a cup of coffee.

“Why don’t you eat breakfast?” Tommy asked, Techno looked over at him, glaring at his food.

“Why do you eat breakfast? It’s too early for food,”

“But not too early for coffee?”

“It’s never too early for coffee Tommy.”

Techno sat down across from him, obviously still trying to wake up fully. Just as Tommy was finishing his food Phil emerged from the hallway.

“You guys ready for today?”

“Heh?”

“What’s happening today?”

Phil raised an eyebrow, “Did you forget? We are helping down at the St Francis soup kitchen- my friend is low on people-I told you about this a week ago.”

“I completely forget,” Techno’s response was muffled by the coffee cup.

“Well we gotta be there in like an hour, get moving!”

Tommy put his dishes in the sink and saw Wilbur standing in the hall, staring him down.

“Hey Tommy, didn’t you wanna shower this morning?” He asked, eyes drifting towards the bathroom.

“Wilbur don’t-”

“Tommy-”

“Wilbur don’t-” Tommy’s begging was cut off as Wilbur shot to the side, dove into the bathroom and slammed the door. Tommy rushed over, pounding on the flimsy wood.

“Damn it Wilbur! Open the door!”

He heard the shower start and pounded harder.

“Wilbur you bitch!”

“Tommy it is too early for you to be this loud-” Techno said from the table.

“I’ll be quieter sooner if you help me open the door!”

Techno considered it for a moment then stood up, “Where is that bent coat hanger-”

“For fucks sake-” Phil put a hand on Tommy’s chest then knocked on the door, “Wilbur! You got ten minutes!”

Wilbur’s ‘okay’ was muffled from the door, Tommy sighed, leaning on the door, deciding he would absolutely beat the shit out of his brothers later.

They were running late because of course they were, between the fight for the bathroom, getting the car cleaned off and getting to the soup kitchen in the day before Christmas traffic was not the easier task, at least for the Pandels.

They finally pulled up to the soup kitchen and parked in the back, heading inside. They had barely managed to take off their coats before an employee pulled them into the kitchen.

Tommy was barely able to process what the man said, something about being understaffed, and shoved Tommy next to another boy who was sorting out juice boxes and fruit cups onto trays.

His brothers were being pulled aside to do actual cooking, they had done it before once when Tommy was sick and had to stay home.

After sorting and setting out all of the food along a conveyor belt type thing, Tommy wasn’t really sure what it was, they pulled up a metal covering so people could come get food.

Each person had to pass out different foods to people, Tommy was put at the end of the conveyor belt, handing out christmas cookies. Wilbur was next to him, offering different drinks.

Multiple different people came down the line, filling their plates with food and sitting down in the cafeteria. There was a TV in the corner and a bookshelf, other people milled about, soft chatter against the pots and pans clattering in the kitchen.

Two kids walked through the line with their parents, the girl looked at Wilbur and wrinkled her nose.

“Your hat looks weird,”

Tommy cackled and gave her an extra cookie.

Eventually they shut the windows and started to clean up the kitchen, putting plates and trays into a huge dishwasher, boxing things up in a walk in freezer and handing out non perishables to people as they left.

Tommy leaned against the counter, Techno and Phil were taking off aprons and putting them in a laundry pile, his shoulders loosened. They had helped people, it felt good;

“Just helped some people- feeling good-”

“Just killed a woman, feeling good!” Wilbur cut in, elbowing Tommy in the ribs, he elbowed him back. “Dickhead,”

“Hey! We’re gonna be heading out soon!” Phil called across the kitchen.

“Is there anything else we have planned?” He asked Wilbur.

“We’re making cookies,”

“Why?”

Wilbur shrugged, “Cause Techno got some new recipes from that gang of Lesbians at school.”

Tommy shuttered, “Oh I remember them, they scare me-”

“I thought you said they were cool,” Wilbur interjected, starting to follow Phil out the door.

“They are! But they also scare the shit out of me!”

Wilbur laughed, “As they should.”

Techno was watching Tommy slide around the kitchen in his socks when Phil asked; “Techno, you said you had some new recipes?”

He nodded, “Yeah, the Lesbian group chat gave me some,”

He remembered getting them was an interesting process, he asked them if they knew of any good cookie recipes and they had all started spamming for one girl to get online. When she did get online he asked the question again. She responded in all caps ‘You fucking fuck! Of course I have some! I am a cottagecore lesbian! What do you take me for!’ Then sent him 7 different recipes.

Wilbur snorted, “I still can’t believe you got taken in by a group of lesbians.”

Techno rolled his eyes and sent two of the recipes to Phil, who was preheating the oven.

“Why are we making so many?” Tommy asked, grabbing the baking sheets from the cabinets.

“They are for the neighbors,” Phil said.

“As a gift?”

“As an apology, you guys are fucking loud.”

Techno smiled, getting out the measuring cups and starting to put ingredients into the bowl. One was a recipe for sugar cookies, which is what he and Wilbur were doing, and the other were snickerdoodles which Phil and Tommy were in charge of.

Techno and Wilbur always worked well together, they flowed around each other, passing ingredients and helping each other out. Meanwhile Phil and Tommy had spilled half of the things they were trying to get into the bowl.

As Wilbur and Techno put their cookies in the oven, Phil nudged Tommy.

“Tommy, where is the rest of the butter, you said you grabbed more,”

“I did, I grabbed-”

“Then give it to me,”

Tommy didn’t move, “Hey Phil, remember when I said I had the butter-well- I lied.”

“What!”

“Don’t worry Phil, We still have some over here,” Wilbur passed a stick of butter behind him.

“Do you guys want some help-” Techno asked, biting his tongue, Tommy pushed him away.

“No! We got this!”

So Wilbur and Techno hung out in the living room while Phil and Tommy tried not to kill each other over cookies. It turned out to be for the best though because when they were ready to put their cookies in, Wilbur and Techno’s were done.

The two decorated their cookies with colored sprinkles, the recipe said it was optional but Wilbur had made the excellent point that sprinkles should never be optional.

Once Phil and Tommy’s cookies were done and left out too cool, Techno’s phone buzzed.

[jj-5656]

🎄Fa-la-la-late🎄 With; Diego Hargreeves

A/N:Ummmm...hello? First off, thank you all so much for the love on my last couple imagines. Sorry for the hiatus, what can I say junior year is as hard as they say it is. Anyway, I was supposed to be sleeping last night but I was writing this instead. Leave it to me to become inspired at the worst times. This is for everyone celebrating a holiday this year without your family because of the pandemic (which is still a thing btw.) Also, this is very long but I love it. Okay enough talking, enjoy!

TW: None except...Well, Klaus is Klaus. And more random POV change bc I can!

He’s running, sprinting really, brown bag tucked haphazardly under his arm as it’s contents jostle around inside with his movements. Filled with last minute groceries for the evenings event. Never in Diego Hargreeves’ life had he thought he’d be rushing home in preparations for a Christmas party, in a red sweater for that matter. But what can he say, a year into his relationship with her and he’s officially whipped. Ever since the two of you met you had introduced him to an enormity of things he’d never considered important. Whether it be birthdays, holidays, anniversaries, you’ve added so much more to him that he could never really repay you for. So, he figures making a very last minute trip to the ever so crowded grocery store on Christmas Eve is worth it. Having to deal with other crazed and unprepared city people for three types of cheeses, four types of crackers, and a particularly expensive bottle of wine.

Apparently a Christmas party, or any get together for that matter, is simply incomplete without an assortment of appetizers. Right, Diego Hargreeves hosting a Christmas party for his siblings. The same ones who only learned about holidays in their World Culture textbooks during hours sectioned off on their daily regimen instead of actually celebrating them. The biting cold reminds him of the lonely Christmas’ throughout his life, which was at the time any other day of the year to him. He snaps out of the dark thoughts when he realizes he’s made it up the stairs and to the front door, a chorus of clanging pots and curses coming from inside.

He fumbles through the door, reminding himself he’s supposed to be rushing, but the beautifully decorated apartment distracts him from the task at hand. The warm feeling he’s still getting used to fluttering through his stomach as he recalls when you first surprised him with the holiday decor.

“It’s not too much, right? I know you never really celebrated Christmas, and neither of us are religious but my family always made the holidays a big deal and I thought-”

“You did all this?” His brown eyes are wide, gazing up at the assortment of twinkling lights aligning the interior of your shared home, a beautiful tree full of red and green ornaments in the middle of your living room. It’s stunning, to say the least, and Diego’s sure he’s never felt so much at home as he does now.

You’re gazing up at him, eyes nervously darting between your boyfriend and the assortment of ornaments. He walks forward from the entryway to admire the garland above the fireplace and the evergreen that just barely scruffs the top of the ceiling. It’s all new to him, and a bit overwhelming, and suddenly Diego realizes the resentment he’s held toward the holiday ever since he was a child was completely misguided. Because the joy he feels now, the warmth tingling throughout his body is foreign but so comforting.

“You hate it, don’t you? Listen, I just thought maybe I’d try and show you Christmas isn’t all about consumerism and selling shitty-”

“It’s beautiful.” He interrupts again, and you swear there’s a moisture begging to leave his eyes as he finally looks to you with an awed expression.

“I don’t, I’ve never...I always hated Christmas. I guess because I never had a real family as a kid. But this, this is j-just...Thank you.”

*End Flashback*

“You’re late!” You shout as the front door bursts open, a familiar thud of boots kicking snow off their bottoms and then walking towards the kitchen. Diego walks in with hands full with groceries, hair wet and messy with flurries of snow littering the raven strands. You narrow your eyes at the sight of him, dopey smile on his face as he sets the bags down on the counter.

“What’s gotten into you? I thought you’d still be grumpy at the fact that we’re hosting.” You’re less than presentable at the moment, having been cooking all day and leaving getting yourself ready for last minute. You puff a stray hair out of your face as he responds.

“Nothing, and actually I am still upset that my siblings are coming over.” He leans against the counter as you unpack the groceries, eager to finish up so you can look a little less crazy when the remaining Hargreeves arrive. Diego is still staring at you, grinning fondly at how flustered you look. And although he’d rather not have you meet his brothers and sister, you deserve to know why he’s keeping you from meeting. After all, it’s been a year since you’ve been together, and he’s met your family already.

It’s different though, because although they too have their issues, your family isn’t a dysfunctional pack of emotionally-stunted freaks. He’d much rather protect you from their intrusive antics. The warm feeling fades as he realizes what’s to come. He appreciates your optimism, truly, but he suddenly can’t shake the feeling that they’ll manage to upset you and ultimately screw up what you’ve been preparing for all day.

“A little help please?” You ground him once more, gesturing to the bags beside the both of you and the assortment of trays of food on the counters. Diego grabs onto your sides when you try to brush past him to check on the turkey, ignoring your incredulous look as he presses his body against yours.

“There’s still time to call this all off, you know. We can watch all the cheesy Christmas movies you want, and have dinner all to ourselves.” His eyes are hopefully looking into yours, the persuasion in his tone hinting a part of him isn’t really joking.

“Absolutely not. Di, we’ve been together for a year now. I want to get to know your siblings. Besides, you met my family and they loved you!”

“That’s different y/n, you’re family is...Well, they’re not like mine! You guys are normal! My brother is a moon-obsessed, half monkey moron and my sister is a mind-controlling movie star.” You can’t help but giggle at his words even though his frustration is adamant. He backs away from your embrace and runs his a hand through his hair in an effort to calm himself down. The sudden thought of one of them being too pushy or making you upset is overwhelming him now. If it’s one thing he’d like to keep you from, it’s the bad side of him his siblings tend to bring out.

“Diego.” Your voice is soft now, you’re using that love-laced tone that always makes him feel like he’s melting. He shivers as you get closer to him, still somehow getting used to the effect you have on him. And although you don’t notice, you seem to be aware you’re calming him down. “I’m scared too, I don’t want to mess something up or embarrass myself in front of them. Hell, your little-or...Older brother is a time traveling assassin who’s kind of a genius. It’s intimidating definitely, but they’re your family Di. I know you hate to admit it, but they’ve played a huge role in who you are. And even if a lot of times you resent each other, it’s clear you love them.”

He’s gotta admit, you’ve always had a way with words. “Fine, what can I do to help beautiful?”

“you can start with setting the table so I can get ready and actually look beautiful. And use the good China!” You plant a quick kiss to his cheek before rushing off to the bedroom, silently praying the anxious won’t drop a plate or two in the process.

****************************

“Baby, does red or white wine go with tur-woah.” You’re doing some finishing touches on your makeup when Diego walks in, honey brown eyes shamelessly looking over your figure with a smirk as he now leans against the door frame.

You roll you eyes at his ogling, but can’t help smoothing down the silky olive green fabric of the dress your wearing with a pleased smile. Gold jewelry adorns your neck and ears, with matching gold heels to bring the look together. The red of his sweater (he so stubbornly obliged to wearing) compliments the green you're wearing beautifully. A year ago, Diego wonders just how much it would take him to put on anything other than black.

“Cmon, they’ll be here any minute.”

As if I’m cue, the doorbell of the apartment rings. You rush to the front door, Diego trailing behind as he reminds himself how important the evening is to you.

“And remember, no knives.” You whisper to him, turning back around and opening the door.

“Fröhliche Weihnachten!” Klaus pushes through the entryway excitedly, tackling you in a hug in greeting. Luckily, you’ve already met the most eccentric sibling of the bunch. As he often crashes at your place, much to Diego’s disliking (or so he says).

“My my my, that dress is to die for! I’ll be borrowing that soon. And those heels! Please tell me we’re the same siz-”

“Alright bonehead, you can steal her stuff later. Take yourself and the booze to the kitchen.” Diego interrupts, shrugging when you slap his shoulder at his bluntness.

Greeting the rest of the family goes better than expected. Allison and Luther arrived together (an innocent carpool of course) whilst Vanya had come just a few minutes after Klaus, happy to see she wasn’t the first to arrive. She brought along with her a homemade dish, Allison with a top notch bottle of champagne, and Five with a box of Griddy’s  donuts and...Coffee? His odd choice of food making the perfect ice breaker, to his confusion of course. 

“Alright, enough small talk. Diego, how much are you paying this lovely lady to pretend to be your girlfriend?” Klaus interjects your conversation about current events as the rest of the table looks to the pair of you and laughs. 

“Seriously, Allison couldn’t even rumor someone to be this good of a cook,” Luther chimes in. Not having looked up from his plate for a majority of the meal.

Although slightly offended, Diego realizes his siblings have a valid point. You’re blushing crimson as you laugh along, shaking your head and nervously rambling on about when you just last week almost burnt the apartment down trying to perfect said recipes. He’s entranced as you speak, admiring the way you seem to capture all of them with unknown ease. Unknown, truly, because you’re still too modest to see how perfect you are. He doesn’t deserve you, but he’ll spend every day trying to even out the impossible score. It's known he can be quite the competitor. 

“I’m just shocked he’s out of black for once.”

“Says the 45 year old in a school uniform!”

                                          **********************

“Alright, I’ll clear up dinner so we can start dessert.” Y/n announces, just in time to halt a three-way argument between her boyfriend, Luther and Five about some Academy mission from when they were kids. The evening has been lighthearted for the most part, with a majority of the conflict being steered off by Allison or Vanya. The two practically experts at distracting their egotistical brothers. You catch on as they do so, the three of you having shared a few sly smirks between one another a few times throughout the meal. 

“Please y/n, let me. You’ve done more than enough tonight. Besides, I need someone to test out that wine for me.” Allison assures, kicking Diego’s shin and motioning to the kitchen when you’ve given her an appreciative smile and inquired Vanya on her violin skills. 

Allison’s knife wielding brother shoots her a look of shock at her actions, trailing along confusedly after her. Your empty plate and his own in hand as he sets them down in the sink. 

“What the hell? Why-where-you-hiding-her-from-us!) The curly haired woman emphasizes each word with a smack of a stray dish towel to his arm, sure nobody can hear them over Klaus’ obnoxious storytelling back in the dining room. 

“Quit it! I wasn’t hiding her I-I was protecting her from you shitheads.” Diego defends, once again bewildered by his sister’s playful outburst. 

“Diego! She’s amazing, you should’ve introduced us forever ago.” 

“Right, she’s amazing. What do you not get by the word protecting? If you all had met her any sooner you would have scared her off!” He flails his arms as he speaks, unaware of his flushed cheeks as his sister smiles fondly at him. 

“What now Allison?”

“You loooveee her.” She poke his side as she teases, chuckling again when he swats her arm away. The scene is childish, but something about the heat rising through his neck to the tips of his ears makes Diego feel like a kid again. Allison teasing him about girls, just as they had when they were young. 

“Wh-whatever. Yeah, I love her. Can we go back to the table now, or should we paint our nails and giggle about how totes adorbs Luther Looks in that coat?” They both laugh at his mocking, leaving the room and too giddy to remember the discarded plates left behind. 

                                      ***********************

“An espresso machine? Wow, Columbia-brewed K-cups too! You shouldn’t have y/n.” Five is beaming at the gift in hand, wrapping paper still hanging off the side of the box as he admires the machine. His siblings stare confusedly at his jolly demeanor, and he immediately clears his throat before giving said girl a curt nod. “Thanks.” He deadpans, and you laugh with a nod at his change in demeanor. 

Luther and Allison have already opened their gifts, the burly man pointing to his miniature moon replica and lecturing about the craters and valleys to an extremely bored Klaus. Allison has already put on the elegant gold charm bracelet you’ve given her, rolling charm with Claire’s initials and birthstone on it with glossy eyes. Beside her, Vanya delicately peels the wrapping off to a freshly polished violin case, her name inscribed in cursive on the top. 

“It’s beautiful. I-I’m so sorry we didn’t get you anything. If I had known-”

“Nonsense V, I’m just glad you could all make it tonight.” You reassure with genuine smile, glad to see her positive response to the nickname. 

“I still can’t believe you got them gifts.” Diego mumbles from behind you, having climbed over the back of the couch you’re all sat on to have you sit between his legs. He kisses your temple and wraps his arms around your middle, softly humming when yo lean into him. The fireplace is crackling, and the record payer you love dearly quietly plays a Perry Como Christmas album. You close your eyes, taking in the warm feeling and relaxing in Diego’s touch. The two of you jumping when a shout comes from beside you.

“My turn! My turn!” Klaus claps loudly to grab your attention. You chuckle at his childish ways, leaning down to pick up the wrapped present at your feet and handing it off to him. Unlike the others, he eagerly rips apart the wrapping, gasping dramatically when he lifts up the skirt. 

“You’re a bit hard to shop for, there’s a gift receipt if-” The excitable man scrambles up from the floor tug on the fabric, twirling around in it in a fit of giggles before you can finish your statement. 

“Great, he’ll never take that off.” Diego mumbles in your ear, you shake your head with a smirk at his teasing before you’re reminded of something.

“Oh! And one more thing.” You note suddenly, climbing out of Diego’s hold as he huffs reluctantly. You pull a a final present from under the tree, secretly handing it to Klaus to make sure the others don’t see. Though they’re too enveloped in conversation to noticed.

“Another one for me?” He whispers happily, eyes furrowing when you shake your head. Sitting back down in Diego’s arms before you explain. 

“No, well...Yes, sort of. You’ll see.” You ramble, gesturing to the box in his hands as he apprehensively chuckles. You feel Diego’s eyes on you, deciding to place a peck on his jaw instead of elaborating. 

Klaus pulls out a pair of books, readig the well-known titles before looking up at you. You motion to the box once more, biting your nail as he sets them aside and reaches in once more. He pulls out  picture frame with a sharp intake of breathe, hand going over his mouth as he looks up at you once more. Your boyfriend, eager to see what has silenced his rowdy brother, takes the frame to inspect it. 

It’s a picture of him, Klaus, and Ben on the front steps of the academy. Having to be only five or six in the photo. Klaus has an arm around Ben, smiling big for the camera as his brother offers a smaller, but no less genuine grin to the lens. Diego sits a step above them, mouth frozen open in a laugh as he must of been reaction to something only Klaus could make him react so much at. 

“I remember Di telling me Ben read a lot. And...Well, it felt wrong to get everyone else a gift but him. Those are two of my favorit-”

“Wh-Where did you find this?” Diego whispers, arms encircled even tighter around you as he holds up the frame in shock. 

“When we were moving in. I found it at the bottom of one of the shelves at your room at the gym. It was under a bunch of old books you had, I figured it could use a frame.” Just as you finish, Klaus practically tackles you in a hug, a soft hiccup coming from him when he pulls away. 

“Geez Klaus, it’s just a skirt!” 

“Can-it Luther!”

                                     *************************

“You think he’ll be alright?” You mutter from the bedroom hallway. You and Diego leaning against the wall, looking at Klaus whose passed out on the sofa. The others having left hours ago, but you simply couldn’t wake him at seeing how peaceful he was. The picture frame still tucked to his chest as he snored softly. 

“Trust me, he’s fine. I think he’ll be sleeping in that skirt every night from now on.” Diego pulls you to your bedroom door as you laugh, the exhaustion from today finally setting. 

“Hey, would you look at that? Mistletoe.” Your head trails upwards to gaze up at the fruit being dangled above your head as you grin.

“Those are grapes Di.”

“Are they? Hmm, must be from that stupid cheese board I had to run across town for.” 

“It’s a chacuterie, actually. Didn’t you learn French Hargreeves?”

“Yep, but I only seem to remember two words.”

“Oh really? And what might those be?”

“Embrasse moi” He finishes as he connects his lips with yours, holding your face as if you might slip away when he lets go. 

“Smooth, knife boy.” You pull away softly, wrapping your arms around his neck and hugging him tightly.

“Merry Christmas Di.”

[omgrachwrites]

Tell a Tale of You and Me - Chapter Eleven

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader

Summary: You knew that making a bet with Sirius Black was like making a deal with the   devil but you just couldn’t help yourself. You had never been a heavenly woman.

Warnings: fluff, angst

Words: 2336

A/N: I would say that I was sorry for all the angst but I’m really not! I hope you guys enjoy this part and please let me know what you think and let me know if you would like to be tagged! I love you all! xxx

Chapter Eleven

The atmosphere in The Great Hall on the day of the Yule Ball thoroughly changed throughout the day, it was Christmas Eve anyway but most of the students weren’t really concerned with it. They were too excited and apprehensive about the evening to come. At breakfast that morning, most of the girls were giddy with excitement and some of the boys were feeling apprehensive. By the time that lunchtime rolled around, the girls were growing impatient and were prone to snapping while the boys had accepted their fate.

At lunch, Sirius greeted you with a kiss on your cheek which made you flush and he sent you a wink that turned your legs to jelly, “looking good, Y/L/N,” he smirked; he looked especially good this afternoon.

You recovered quickly and arched an eyebrow at him, “too good for you,” you teased and received a chuckle as a reply as he sat next to James. They were properly talking to each other again after the whole Snape fiasco.

You grinned to yourself as you glanced back at Lily to see that she had a mingled expression of shock and amusement on her face, “okay, what was that all about?” she lowered her voice and leaned forward with interest.

You rolled your eyes as you smiled at her, “he was upset when he and James were fighting so I um might have kissed him,” you shrugged, playing it off like it was nothing when in reality it was a huge deal.

Instead of a shocked look, Lily shot you a warm smile that she usually reserved for James, “good for you sweetie. I know that your situation isn’t ideal but don’t let him get away, not without a fight.”

At about half past three Lily checked her watch and gave you a little nod with a sparkle in her emerald eyes and a giddy sort of excitement filled your gut. It was time to get ready for the Ball. Lily kissed James on the lips, “we’d better get ready for the Ball,” she beamed as the both of you stood up.

“And you need three hours to get ready?” Sirius frowned while you and Lily rolled your eyes at each other, he really was hopeless.

“Well, looking good takes time but I’m sure you wouldn’t know anything about that,” you smirked and Remus choked on a surprised laugh while James gave you a high five and Sirius pulled a tongue at you.

Getting ready with the girls was so much fun, Marlene and Dorcas had managed to sneak in a bottle of pink champagne and the lot of you were drinking out of the bottle, getting a little tipsy. You helped Lily style her soft red hair into an intricate and fiddly up do which made her look like a queen, James was a very lucky guy. In turn she helped you get into your dress and she laced up the back for you.

As you looked at your group of friends you suddenly grew sad and the nerves were finally starting to set in. This was going to be your last Christmas at Hogwarts and you were determined to make it a night to remember. When you all walked into the common room, a few Gryffindor boys that none of you knew all wolf whistled at you in good nature. You all giggled and blew them kisses as you climbed up through the portrait hole and made your way to The Entrance Hall where you’d be meeting your dates.

“What if Sirius never forgives me? What if we can never get past what’s going to happen tonight?” you asked Lily in a shaky voice as you fought the urge to throw up.

Lily laced her warm fingers through yours and gave your hand a comforting squeeze, “he will, I promise Y/N. He cares about you too much to never forgive you, so if I was you I really wouldn’t worry about it.”

You nodded at your best friend’s words as you took a deep breath, hoping that she was right. As you descended the stone steps you smiled as James wistfully gazed at Lily like she was the only girl in the universe. You longed to have a relationship just like theirs one day. Sirius looked so achingly handsome that it hurt with the knowledge that you wouldn’t be attending the Ball together. At his side there was an equally beautiful girl and you tried not to feel bitter resentment towards her.

Remus gave you a small wave while Sirius rushed forward, his lips quirked up into a smile and he gave you a tight hug. You breathed in his scent, he smelled like cinnamon and sandalwood, he ignored the huffs of his date. His cheeks were flaming red as he looked you over and you squirmed beneath his gaze, “you look amazing Y/N!” and for once there wasn’t a teasing tone to his voice, he sounded completely sincere.

You flushed right down to your toes as butterflies exploded into your stomach, fluttering wildly at his words, “thank you! So do you,” you giggled nervously, dreading the moment that was due to come.

“So, where is your date? If he’s late, I’ll kick his arse for you.”

“I don’t think that’ll be necessary brother,” chewing your lip at the soft voice, you turned your head to look at Regulus.

He looked just as handsome as his brother. He was beaming at you, his grey eyes twinkling in the candlelight as he dragged a hand through his short wavy hair, a flush on his cheeks. Regulus looked you up and down, and it wasn’t in a pervy way but on the other hand, it didn’t make you weak in the knees like it should have, “wow,” Regulus breathed, “you look stunning,” you flushed at his pretty words, not daring to look at Sirius.

“Thank you Reg, you look great too!”

Regulus took your hand and rubbed his thumb against your wrist, smiling when he felt your pulse point jump beneath his fingers, “should we head in? I can’t wait to dance with you,” he smiled cutely and your heart went out to him. He really deserved a girl who was crazy about him.

“Please,” you grinned nervously, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. The air surrounding the pair of you had grown heavy and awkward, though you wouldn’t let it ruin your night. You were still hopeful that you could have a good night.

As you strolled towards The Great Hall you chanced a look back, Sirius was glaring at you, you had never seen him that angry before and it was all directed towards you. His face was like thunder but there was hurt in his stormy grey eyes. Your other friends looked shocked while Lily looked sympathetic. Hot tears stung at your eyes and you willed them to go away and your chest felt tight. You didn’t want to make Regulus feel bad, he was too sweet.

A gasp of awe escaped you as you walked into the gold and silver decorated hall, marvelling at the 12 Christmas trees. It was snowing and fluttering multi coloured fairies flew overhead. It was strange but seeing the frost settle around the windows made you feel calm. The room looked like something straight from a beautiful winter’s dream.

“Beautiful right?” Regulus grinned, squeezing your hand gently and you smiled at him. It was the first time that night that you’d sent a true smile his way.

“It’s gorgeous! Come and dance with me Reg!” you giggled as you pulled him to the dance floor, smiling slightly when you heard him let out a breathless and surprised chuckle.

Regulus was a wonderful dancer and there was the prettiest gleam in his eyes as he smiled at you. There should have been a spark – you were beating yourself up because there wasn’t a spark – after all Regulus was handsome, sweet, considerate, and hardworking, the list goes on but you felt nothing. You vaguely wondered what the matter with you was.

Halfway through your dance, Regulus took a shaky breath, “Y/N,” you glanced up, giggling as he twirled you; “can we try and make this work between us? You mean more to me than just my older brother’s friend. I want to mean more you to you too,” he took his bottom lip between his teeth and chewed on it as he waited patiently for your response to his confession.

It was not a decision to be taken lightly, there was certainly no spark that you felt but maybe that was okay. Maybe Regulus would be the safe choice and maybe he wouldn’t break your heart. Whatever happened you certainly didn’t imagine that your last year at Hogwarts would be like this. You could never have a quiet year.

“Reg,” you started and there must have been uncertainty in your voice because his face fell, “we can try,” as you agreed Regulus perked up with a sweet smile and he kissed your cheek.

“Thank you.”

After a couple more dances, Lily pulled you away and you ended up getting drinks with her. James poured some fire whiskey – which he’d smuggled into the Ball in a flask – into your pumpkin juice and winked at you. Remus’ cheeks were rosy and his hazel eyes twinkled, it was obvious that he’d had more than a little to drink. Sirius ignored you blatantly and your heart constricted painfully, you would rather him be angry with you because maybe then he’d be talking to you.

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

Sirius heaved a great sigh as he took a swig of fire whiskey from the flask that James had brought with him. Tonight had been a bust. The Great Hall looked stunning but it was torture watching the girl he was falling for in his brother’s arms. He’d resorted to ignoring them both which killed him inside. Everyone was pissing him off tonight including the girl he’d brought with him, Regulus and Y/N.

James patted Sirius’ arm sympathetically, he’d at least had a good night with Lily and Sirius was jealous that James had found someone who truly loved him, “you alright mate? It must have been a difficult night for you.”

Sirius shrugged, “I just feel betrayed, y’know? Like I was just part of some scheme, I thought that Y/N actually liked me,” he laughed it off like he didn’t care, but he did, “I’m gonna get some air,” he didn’t wait for a reply before taking off outside into the cold night.

He sat down on a snowy stone bench that had been nestled among the winter flowers that had been planted especially for tonight. It was strangely peaceful out here and for the first time that night he felt at ease. Sirius wasn’t sure just how long he was out there before he heard the snow crunch behind him but he didn’t bother to turn around.

“I haven’t seen you all night, where have you been?” Y/N giggled nervously and Sirius closed his eyes, trying to swallow the lump that had formed in the back of his throat and he rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“Shouldn’t you be with my brother right now?” he gave a bark of humourless laughter and he heard Y/N sigh.

“Sirius,” she started but he didn’t want to hear any excuses, he just wanted to know one thing from her.

“Why did you kiss me that day Y/N?” he mumbled, blinking the tears out of his eyes, “were you trying to play with my feelings for you? Or were you just using me to get to Regulus this whole time, is that the only reason you’re friends with me?”

“Of course I wasn’t using you; it’s not what you think between me and Regulus! It was just a kiss Sirius; I thought you of all people would understand that! There was no ulterior motive behind it, you were gutted about what happened with James and I just thought that it might make you feel better.”

Hurt swirled in Sirius’ gut at Y/N’s words. It was just a stupid kiss was it? He shouldn’t have expected anything more than that. He’d been a complete fool. Finally, he turned around to look at her, she was beautiful, standing in the deep snow wearing that gold dress that looked like it was made for her. The snow was swirling around her and a couple of snowflakes settled on her eyelashes and in her hair. She had never looked more beautiful.

Her outline grew blurry as the hot tears returned to his eyes but right now he didn’t much care if she saw his tears. It would be good for her to see just how much she’d hurt him, “y’know, its funny. Regulus was always the perfect one, the prodigal son. He got everything that he’d ever wanted but it didn’t care because I had one thing he didn’t have, I had you. And, now he has you too so it doesn’t even matter,” Sirius stood up.

“Pads,” Y/N made to touch his arm as she gave him a pained look.

Sirius jerked his arm out of her reach, he didn’t want to hear it, and it hurt too much. He’d never felt so vulnerable, not even when his mum had kicked him out, “don’t!” his voice broke and he swallowed a whimper, “please,” when Y/N nodded he turned to stalk back into the castle, looking back for a second, “merry Christmas Y/N,” he whispered as a tear slid down his cheek.

When he got back to the castle, his pretty date smiled at him, she looked glad that he was back and right now, he needed any bit of affection he could get, no matter how small. Sirius smiled back at her as he made his way over, he was angry, heartbroken and hurt. He wanted to hurt Y/N just as much as she had hurt him. He wouldn’t even feel sorry about it.

----------------------------- 

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[masjestickingdom]

FRIENDS (Part 2)

Pairing: NCT Jaehyun x reader

Genre: Angst, slight fluff

Summary: After returning to Korea to work for one of the biggest entertainment companies, SM Entertainment, memories of your life in your home country before you left for university flood your mind. Swallowing the past behind you, you decide to be professional and face the people you haven’t seen in a while--including the boy whose name you dared not think of for the past five years.

Note: What was originally supposed to be a oneshot turned into a two-part series. I’m so glad that a lot of you enjoyed the first one and reached out to me to request a second part, so here it is! Oh, and if you haven’t read the first part, go read it here.

_______________________________________________________________________

    Under the light the street lamp posts provided him, the youthful boy ran towards the run-down store under the bridge. He didn’t know why he was heading for the closed store, but his legs had a mind of their own. He ran and ran until he heard a voice.

    “Jaehyun!” it called.

    Suddenly, his legs weren’t mindlessly running on their own. It was as if the sweet voice that called his name controlled his legs because he found himself slowing down, looking around his bleak surroundings. The store was old and the bridge seemed ancient with vines traveling down it. The ground was concrete, but it had a few cracks. This seemingly desolate place had no meaning to Jaehyun, yet there he was, searching for the owner of the voice that called his name.

    “Jaehyun!” it said again.

    Before he could take another second to turn around, a pair of hands, rather slim and somewhat fragile, covered his eyes, blocking his vision. An unknowing smile appeared on his face while his hands, trembling with happiness, reached out to touch the soft hands.

    “Guess who?” it spoke with great excitement.

    Hearing the familiar voice up close, a brighter smile tugged his lips upward. As the owner of the faceless voice, which belonged to a girl, gently removed her hands from his face, she finally revealed herself. With one of her hands holding onto his right wrist, the girl appeared in Jaehyun’s view, the wind blowing past her face, causing her hair to cover half of her face. She smiled at him endearingly, and the sound of her laughter carried along the cold wind. She led him closer and closer to the store, but they never reached it. Jaehyun, however, got a clearer view of the sign on the store and when he did, the girl’s smile wasn’t a bright smile anymore. It was bittersweet. “Pain” were the letters written out on the sign in red ink.

    “It’s a pain spending time with you,” the boy heard his voice echo, but it didn’t come out of his mouth. Somewhere in the mystifying darkness, behind the legs of the bridge, the voice boomed, “It’s a pain.” In an instant, the floor rumbled and the bridge above his head began crumbling into pieces. “It’s a pain,” the voice repeated, causing more and more disruption. The girl, unlike him, stood still and watched his frightened face, continuing to smile the same way she was.

    “Y/N,” escaped the awoken boy, drenched in sweat. With wide eyes, he frantically scanned his setting, searching for the girl in his dream--nightmare, rather. When he realized that he was in his room, which he shared with fellow groupmate Jungwoo, his eyes contracted and his breathing slowly stabled. Uttering a breath of relief, Jaehyun checked the time on his phone, and his eyes quickly dilated again as soon as he saw that it was two in the morning. He groaned and tried to fall back asleep, but no matter how many times he twisted and turned, he was wide awake.

    And it was all because of a girl he hadn’t seen in five years.

...

    For you, summer was the worst season of all: the sun stared into your soul until you broke down in slimy sweat; in the afternoon, the sun blew hot air against your body, causing your clothes to absorb the revolting sweat; at night, even when the sun set, it managed to influence the moon to blow steamy air at your face. For those reasons, you liked mornings the best. You didn’t care if it was hot then because you rarely left the house in the morning anyway. You got to sleep in late with blinds shielding you from the sunlight. You got to wake up late and peacefully watch the shadows of the tall trees outside dance to their normal routine, swinging back and forth behind the blinds. It was wonderful, really. Of course, you realized that wonderful things were momentary because after getting a job at your older sister’s company, you had to wake up at half past six in the morning and be at your cubicle by eight. However, it didn’t matter that you had to deal with the awful mornings outside of the mini apartment you shared with your sister; you were on a plane to Korea.

    It had been five years since you were in your home country. After getting your bachelor’s degree in Communications and Psychology earlier than your peers, you studied furiously to the point you felt dead instead to obtain your master’s degree in Psychology in a year. Fortunately, you got a paid internship at your sister’s company, a therapy-based workplace, until your sister recommended you for an open job position in Korea. More specifically, SM Entertainment was looking for a full-time, SM-focused therapist. It was funny how things worked out, but you couldn’t pass on the amazing opportunity. As an employed therapist, you would be helping the company’s artists become healthier in a psychological aspect.

    To Korea, accompanying you was your college friend Bora and her two-year old daughter Eunkyung. Eunkyung was the most adorable toddler you had come across, given you didn’t encounter many kids in your life. Like her mom, she was a jokester, and she loved tugging your hair whenever she could. It became a bad habit. A really bad one.

    You were on the plane, sitting at the window seat, while Eunkyung was situated in the middle (thankfully because it was a vacant seat) and Bora in the aisle. Eunkyung started pulling your long hair towards her body, giggling, but she soon retracted her hand when her mom scolded her.

    “She didn’t get any sleep last night,” Bora lectured gently. “The last thing we want is to wake her up.”

    “Why?” Eunkyung asked innocently, tilting her head upwards at her mom.

    “Why can’t we wake her up? Your poor auntie was up trying to find us someone who would let us stay at their house, and once we land, she has to go straight to work.”

    Yes, you were a poor thing, but you were a poor lucky thing because after five short years of dedication to studying, you landed on this golden opportunity. That’s why when you woke up at the shaking plane, ready to land, instead of getting cranky and groaning like you would have normally done, you gratefully closed your eyes again and enjoyed the last few minutes of laziness.

    In a blink of an eye, you were somehow seated in the shotgun of your friend’s van, heading to your new workplace.

    “You wouldn’t believe the look on Y/N’s face when her mom told her she couldn’t stay at their place,” Bora spoke, sitting in the back seat with Eunkyung on her lap.

    “Y/N? Getting mad? I would like to see that,” your friend Hyunwoo said jokingly.

    “Thanks for letting us stay over the last minute,” you said, brushing off his comment. “My mom’s not usually the type to back out like this, but she apparently had a big fight with my dad, and the tension won’t serve any good to Eunkyung.”

    Hyunwoo simply shrugged. “I’m glad to have the company. Ever since my roommate moved out, I’ve been feeling kind of lonely.”

    As he gradually stopped the car at a red light, you took the moment to look out the window on your right, and you immediately spotted a dome-looking venue. It was flocked with decorations, mostly banners of people’s faces you couldn’t make out, but when the car pulled forward, the wind blew past the banners, straightening them out in a certain way. The only thing you got the chance to see was the bottom part of the nearest banner that read “NCT 127”.

    An unsettling feeling sat in your stomach. It was weird. You heard about NCT 127 from your friends back in college, but it was weird to see their faces plastered on banners in your home country.

    You ignored the lump in your throat as you set your eyes on the road.

    ...

    Six months passed, and you loved your job. With the exception of a certain friend, you met practically everyone from the company. It was certainly an exciting job to talk to celebrities, so every so often you had to remind yourself that they were humans too to calm your beating heart. You also had a routine down. Every morning, you would leave Hyunwoo’s place on an empty stomach, but you would be greeted by the sweet pastries fresh from the oven of the first floor cafe in the building. Every afternoon, you would stay in your office like a loner and eat chips for lunch. Every evening, you would enjoy the view of the falling sun from your desk. It wasn’t until the last night of June that your routine was disrupted.

    Your last session that night ended at ten, and you were more than ready to go home. Well, that was until you heard a knock on your door. That knock gave you the impression that you would be there longer than you wanted.

    As you struggled to switch from your heels to sneakers behind your desk, you yelled, “Come in.”

    Just as you managed to slide the heels of your feet into your cushioned sneakers, the door swung open. You rose from the ground, pushing your uselessly uncomfortable heels under your desk with your toes, and when you looked to see who was at the door, your breath hitched.

    It was him, your former best friend, the guy who pushed you away. He was soaked from the summer rain and had bloodshot eyes. His hair was a mess, and it appeared to you that he was out of breath because his chest rapidly rose up and down. It was the first time you had seen him in five years, and that was how he presented himself to you, unannounced.

    “Jaehyun, what...?”

    You found your feet taking you to Jaehyun step by step. Your eyes studied his, worry evident in yours. You wanted to comfort him, to hug him as hard as you could for all the years you couldn’t, but something inside of you screamed at you to stop. There weren’t any cameras installed in your office. In fact, your office was one of the rare areas in the building that didn’t have CCTVs for the sake of privacy and efficacy of your delicate work, but you couldn’t bring yourself to fling your arms around on the drenched boy. You couldn’t... but he did: as soon as you were a few feet away from him, he suddenly advanced towards you and engulfed you in a tight hug.

    “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice unbelievably shaking. “I’ve missed you.”

    At those simple words, an overwhelming wave of emotions washed over you. Despite the coldness provided by his wet clothes, your heart felt warm. After five years of nothing, no voice nor touch, he had finally reached out to you, and that was all you needed.

    “I was a jerk and an idiot,” he said, tightening his grip around your waist. “I shouldn’t have pushed you away, but I did.”

    His body was trembling while yours was stable. Your hands were by your sides, but you slowly raised them, secured them around his body, and patted his back the way he used to do to yours whenever you were uncontrollably sobbing after a sad movie. To your surprise, it seemed as though your actions caused the opposite effect because another wave of tears stained your back.

    “Shh,” you said, rubbing your hands on his back in circular motions.

    He buried his wet face in your neck and choked out, “I’m sorry.”

    “I heard you,” you whispered, slightly rocking him back and forth.

    After what seemed like a short minute (when in reality it was five), Jaehyun finally loosened his grip, and you pulled away, gripping the side of his arms. The two of you stared off into each other’s eyes and let the silence overtake the room. His eyes were full of sorrow and regret, and all that clouded your mind was how tired and worn out he looked. You were the first to offer a smile.

    “You should go back to your dorm and dry off,” you told him in a soft voice. “Otherwise, you’re gonna catch a cold.”

    With droplets of water dripping from the tips of his tousled hair, he shook his head.

    “I need to tell you why I did what I did.”

    Your smile faltered noticeably, your stomach twisting into knots. You were beyond nervous to hear his reason for pushing you away. Were you really annoying? Did his friends secretly think you were annoying? Whatever it was, Jaehyun had no hint of tenseness nor anxiety; he was ready to tell you.

    “I had a crush on you.”

    There and then, the world stopped: your analog clock stopped ticking; your phone, which was on silent mode, stopped ringing; the whispering drops of the rain outside stopped talking. To you, the only sound that was loud and clear was your rapidly beating heart.

    “When you came over for Chuseok dinner, when you told my parents that we were like twins, I-” Jaehyun stopped in mid-sentence, biting his lower lip in embarrassment, but you patiently waited for him. “I was frustrated at how you thought of me as a brother and a platonic friend rather than something more..” Before he continued, he rested his hands on your shoulders and stared dead straight into your eyes. “When I said it was a pain spending time with you, I meant that it was painful for me to contain my feelings around you because you didn’t look at me in the same way. I’m sorry that I lashed out. ”

    You let your hands hang onto his elbows as you barely audibly said, “Thanks for telling me.”

    The intense, yet soft look in Jaehyun’s eyes was the same gaze he gave you the day he yelled at you. It was then, you realized, that he was still in pain.

    “What is it?” you asked, your curious eyes searching his for clues.

    The now anxious boy let out a shaky breath, his eyes leaving yours. You took your hands and lifted his chin slightly upward, forcing his eyes to land back on yours.

    “You can tell me,” you encouraged.

    And before you knew it, Jaehyun was blurting out the words “I’m still in love with you”.

    .

    .

    .

    That was the quietness that filled the room. That was also the blank state your mind was in. You didn’t know what to think. You loved him, yes, but you loved him platonically. How could he, your childhood friend, still be in love with you after all those years? You couldn’t take your eyes off of the loving but painful expression in his eyes.

    For the first time in a long time, Jaehyun let out a chuckle, earning him a confused stare.

    “I know how you feel about me, and unlike my former self, I’m okay with it.” After a moment of silence, a gentle smile grew on his lips. ”I’ll wait for you.”

    Cue the waterworks and the hug. This time, it was Jaehyun rubbing your back.

    “I’m not gonna go anywhere,” he said quite confidently. “So when you’re ready--whether it be rejection or welcome--I’ll be here.”

    “Except when you go on tour and stuff,” you murmured, to which the both of you laughed.

    Fortunately for you, Jaehyun did wait. When you confessed your feelings to him, a year had already gone by since he promised he would wait. To him, your best friend and now lover, you were worth the wait.

_______________________________________________________________________

Additional Announcement: Thanks for waiting to read this second part! I hope that it was “worth the wait”. Anyway, this may be the only post for the month of August due to SAT season. I will make no promises to make an update this month, so please hang in there! And for any of you taking the August SAT too, good luck! If you aren’t taking it, please send your thoughts and prayers to those who are. We really need all the hope we can get.

[kelby-writes]

Could I get a oneshot where the reader is making cookies, and Brahms won't stop sneaking cookie dough/icing behind their back? Because we all know he would. Also, thank you. :) ❤️

This took way to long to get to writing, so I apologize! I hope you like what I managed to create from this! Thank you so much for this request!

I apologize to any Islamic/Jewish, Hindu, and Buddhist readers/tumblrs, as I took this request in a more Christmas-y theme! I hope you don’t mind! Also, I did research for Christmas Traditions in England/Britain, and also made the Reader’s ethnicity as vague as possible, so I try not to fully state if “you” are an American or of American descent! :) ENJOY!

Christmas Cookies

BRAHMS X READER

Christmas is a wonderful time of year for many families. Snowfall, Santa Clause, and Christmas foods such as cookies and cakes! Nearly everyone’s favorite holiday is Christmas, greedily for the presents in younger ages. Though, your absolute favorite time of the snowy year has got to be Christmas Cookie Creation. You would normally spend an entire day baking and decorating cookies with your family, all ranging in different recipes of the sweet treats. Most common being chocolate chip, sugar cookies, peanut butter kisses, and some uncommon being pineapple cookies, butterscotch, coconut, and more! And of course the wonderful traditions; The Christmas Tree, stockings, candles, Christmas movies, and more! You always got giddy on Christmas morning, not only because of the new gifts and possessions, but because of the entire day you would get to spend with your family—drinking, laughing, chatting, eating, and more! 

This was obviously different with Brahms, as well as in England. 

In England they did not put their stockings over a toasty fire, and instead put them at the end of their bed, hoping it would be filled by morning. There is a tradition involving crackers, in which they would get treats and little trinkets spilling out once the packaging is broken open. There are colorful tissue paper crowns that kids and adults alike wear proudly, there’s Yorkshire Pudding, hot mulled drinks called Wassail, a Royal Christmas Message from the Queen via TV, and Boxing Day (pretty much like a Christmas version of Black Friday, originating from a day after Christmas in which employers would give their servants gifts). Christmas has got to be Brahms’ favorite holiday, simply because of the small child-like instincts he still has. 

You were in the kitchen for around, maybe two hours now? You had lost count, too busy with making recipes and shoving trays of cookie dough into the oven in the Heelshire Mansion Kitchen. You were honestly having the time of your life—Radio/Stereo playing (blasting) some famous Christmas Music as you baked more and more cookies for you and Brahms. Of course, you planned on taking some containers and paying a visit to some friends you had made at work, as well as giving some away to Malcolm (in which Brahms strongly suggested you shouldn’t). 

You pulled out a tray from the heated oven that has been working for awhile now, staying hot and warm, and giving a sweet heat to the room, as well as the cookie aroma. It fought away the usual draftiness of the cold victorian styled mansion, which was greatly appreciated. You set the cookies on the heat pads laying on the marble counter, which was set next to the rack of previously baked cookies, all cooling. While you knew the cookies were referred to as ‘biscuits’ in the UK (though some called the bigger softer kind ‘cookies’), you were used to calling them as cookies, not biscuits. 

Anyways, in no time you got the twelve cookies out onto the cooling rack in minutes. You turned away, ready to start the next batch, when you heard a strange noise just outside the kitchen. You furrowed your brows, confused as you set down the wooden spoon that you had grabbed from a mixing bowl, both freshly washed to make a different recipe of cookies. “Brahms?” You called out softly, unsure. Was it just the music, or did you actually hear something or someone? You patted off your bright apron, dusting off any flour that might have fallen onto the cloth before heading out into the cold hallway, looking around. No Brahms, just the same old dark wallpaper, and the normal furniture that accompanied the hallway. 

You turned back into the Kitchen, walking past the cookie rack before something caught your eyes. Wasn’t there more cookies there…? You quickly did a recount; 10 cookies from the most recent batch. How the hell were two cookies missing-

“Brahms, where are you?” You called out into seemingly empty air, propping your hand on your now-cocked out hip, playfully narrowing your eyes at ever crack and little spot you saw in the wallpaper of the kitchen walls, knowing Brahms was either in there somewhere, or hiding somewhere else outside of the walls. “Brahms!~” You called out, almost musically, shaking your head as you let your hand slip from your hip, grabbing the wooden spoon again. You turned back to your work, trying to focus on the recipe before you heard another noise from the hall, just outside the kitchen. You couldn’t help the grin that tugged on your lips, setting down the spoon. You knew what he was doing—trying to trick you to get more cookies for the road. So, in the spirit of Christmas, you decided to play by his little game.You moved away from the counter, wiping your hands against the apron and making a move for the hallway, already knowing Brahms was moving out from whatever hiding place he was in to grab the cookies. So, at the last second you turned around.

Brahms stood in the Kitchen, slightly hunched, mask-less, and with some blue striped pajama pants and his green-tinged grey cardigan, grabbing two cookies off of the tray, going for some sugar cookies you had just made and recently decorated not even thirty (30) or forty-five (45) minutes ago. The curly haired man looked up, and his eyes widened, seeing you standing there, hands on hips, playfully glaring at the 6′5″ wall-dweller with a beautiful (sexy) grin on your soft lips. “So…” You started, walking over to Brahms as he backed himself up against the counter, keeping a firm one-handed grip on the two cookies he was trying to snatch. “Stealing, huh?” You asked, smiling as you saw him visibly shrink a bit, offering a nervous smile on his half-scarred lips. His beard was trimmed, thanks to you, and his curly hair thick and bouncy with his now frequent washing. You laughed as he set the cookies down and wrapping his lanky arms around your neck, pulling you into a close hug—Brahms’ favorite—as if trying to make up for his stealing, or to distract you with his affections. 

“Don’t think this means you’re off the hook, Brahms.” You said softly into his chest as he rested his cheek against the top of your head. “You’ll have to help me bake now—” “(Name)-” Brahms started to whine, protesting the idea of helping in the kitchen, until he pulled away and got a look of your face—lips jutted out in the cutest little pout, eyes big and doe-like, batting your eyelashes in an overly comedic way. “Mmm…” Brahms let out the soft protest noise again, trying to avoid your contact until he couldn’t help but look straight into your beautiful (e/c) eyes, wide and filled with joy, both for the love of baking, and for the love of Brahms. 

And he couldn’t help himself—Brahms leaned closer into your facial area, nose bumping against your own as his lips found yours in a slow, rhythmic way, moving softly and in sync with yours until you were playfully nipping at his bottom lip, knowing that he liked the small actions. You finally pulled away, a shit-eating grin on your face—

“You’re still helping me bake—BRAHMS GET BACK HERE-”

~ Kelby

[idnek83]

First Christmas

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Soda Kazuichi/Tanaka Gundham

Tags: Christmas Fluff, Established Relationship, Lots of causal smooching, No Smut, Implied Sexual Content, Alternate Universe - Non-Despair 

Summary: Soda and Gundham get ready for their first Christmas together. It's not much, and they definitely spent too much on questionable decorations, but, somehow, it's still perfect.

Read on Ao3

__________________

Christmas with Gundham was… different.

Neither of them had come from families where Christmas had been a huge thing. Soda was used to a discount tree and mismatched ornaments, some of which he had made himself with spare parts from the shop. As far as presents went, he usually got some new socks or something else practical, and, on years where his parents had the money to spare, a new screwdriver or wrench to add to his personal collection.

He had never woken up to piles of perfectly wrapped presents under an equally perfect tree, but he always enjoyed the day as a kid.

He had asked Gundham what his own Christmases had been like growing up, and between his eccentric words, Soda had gathered that they had had somewhat similar experiences: modest decorations and practical gifts.

The biggest difference appeared to be the “abhorrent feast” Gundham’s mother would serve every year.

“The angle who bore me created such fierce dishes; they would cause the toxins in my body to become so concentrated I could hardly withstand them myself.”

Soda cringed at the idea of spending every Christmas sick to your stomach, but couldn’t help but be touched by the idea of Gundham forcing himself to eat whatever his mother served him just so he wouldn’t hurt her feelings.

Soda usually just had take-out for Christmas, it was one of his favourite parts of the holiday.

But like he said, Christmas with was different.

_

At some point in November the topic had come up, and the two of them had started making plans for how they wanted to spend their first Christmas together.

They ended up going tree shopping at the beginning of December.

A little pop-up tree shop had shown up just down the street from their little apartment, and when Soda had seen it, he ran home and excitedly grabbed Gundham. He began to ramble about how he wanted to get the biggest, fullest tree he could carry, sweeping Gundham up into his arms as he did as if to demonstrate. Gundham had just laughed at him and allowed himself to be carried as Soda began to sing random bits of Christmas songs off key and dance around the apartment.

“While I am enjoying this ritual, my beloved, I do not see how it will procure us a tree.”

Soda blushed and place Gundham back on the ground, looking slightly embarrassed and, in Gundham’s opinion, very cute.

“Shall we?” Gundham reached for his boyfriend’s hand and moved to the door, watching as Soda immediately perked back up.

“Hell yeah.”

They made the short trek to the tree shop, Soda gushing about the amazing tree they were going to get the whole way. However, once they arrived and Soda actually got a look at the price tags on those big, full, amazing trees, his face fell. He knew they were expensive, but damn, they were really expensive.

Gundham had picked up on his disappointment, and began doing his best to make excuses for why the ‘amazing’ trees were actually subpar; a hole here, a strange lump there, and branches to weak to hold “proper seasonal embellishments” all over the place. Soda knew exactly what Gundham was doing, but just nodded along and squeezed his hand a little tighter as they looked for a more reasonably priced tree.

They ended up finding one that was somewhat sparse, but it was tall and had a good shape to it and, most importantly, was in their budget. After paying, Soda made quite the show of lifting it himself, hoisting it over his shoulder and flexing his free arm in an exaggerated manner to make Gundham smile.

It had been a little trouble getting it through the narrow halls of their apartment building, but a few minutes later, they had it set up in a corner of their home, undecorated but bringing a festive feeling to the space all the same.

Gundham noticed Soda’s previous bravado had died down and he was alternating between glancing up at the tree and down his hand where he was absentmindedly rubbing at some sap.

“What is wrong, dearest consort? Does this tree no longer please you?”

“N-no, it’s just… Well, I guess I just feel kinda dumb? I made a big deal about getting us the perfect tree and-“

“And you succeeded in doing so.” Gundham placed a hand on Soda’s cheek and kissed him. He was used to his boyfriend’s tendency to doubt himself, but that didn’t mean he was just going to let him do it. “Perhaps this tree has more space between its limbs than you had wished, but that will only make it easier for us to adorn it as we see fit.” He wrapped and arm around Soda’s waist and drew him closer, hand still on his cheek. “We shall create the most formidable display with it, we will be the envy of all who gaze upon it, and all will know us to be true masters of these yuletide rituals.”

Soda began to laugh as Gundham kissed him again.

“You’re right man, we’re gonna decorate this tree so good that it makes all our friend’s want to throw their trash trees out.”  He finally returned Gundham’s kisses, and they both decided to spend the rest of the evening in their bedroom.

_

“We should probably buy some ornaments soon, starting to feel weird just having a naked tree in the corner.

After a very pleasant evening, Soda and Gundham had decided it best to leave decorating the tree for the next day, only to realise in the morning that neither of them actually owned Christmas decorations.

The weather had been bad that day, so they put off shopping. However, a week had now gone by and the tree remained bare.

“You are right, my love.” Gundham stroked Soda’s messy hair and kissed his forehead. “Should we wait too long, we may find an inadequate selection as well.”

Soda untangled himself from Gundham’s arms and the blanket he had thrown over them once they had finished making love on the couch.

“We could probably do it now, if you’re feeling up to it?” Soda waggled his eyebrows at Gundham.

“You know full well it takes plenty more to render me immobile.” Gundham flashed a smirk, half humorous and half suggestive.

Before Soda could get to wrapped up in the thoughts of the last time he had immobilized Gundham, making him scream over and over until he was too tired to move, Gundham stood up. He began to dress himself, laughing and tossing Soda his boxers when he noticed his boyfriend getting excited again.

“There will be plenty of time for that later, dear consort, but for now, the tree demands adornment.”

They had dressed, much to Soda’s disappointment, and headed to the store.

_

Once they had arrived Soda wished they had put off shopping for an entirely new reason. There were just so many options. If they had waited and there really had been fewer ornaments available, then at least I would be easier to make a choice.

Soda looked to Gundham, but he looked just as overwhelmed by the selection. There were aisles upon aisles lined with various Christmas decorations, and at lest two appeared to be solely dedicated to tree ornaments.

They shared a look before heading down an aisle at random, hoping they would know what they wanted when they saw it.

It had been at least 20 minutes. Soda and Gundham had walked up each aisle a number of times and Soda was starting to feel exhausted. They should probably just grab something at this point. The only thing He had really manage to decide was that he liked the gold ornaments best, but that still left way too many options.

“Gundham, I’m going to die if we don’t pick something soon. Please, just grab something and lets go.”

“If you are sure…” Gundham glanced at the closest shelf, considering the selection for half a second before grabbing a box of gold and silver ornaments. “Do these suit your desires?”

Soda loved Gundham so much. “Yes. Beautiful. I love you. Let’s leave now.” Soda kissed Gundham and took the box from his hands. He moved to leave but caught Gundham glancing to a shelf just a little further down the aisle.

Soda turned to see what Gundham was looking at. It took a moment, Soda was at the point where all of the ornaments were starting to look the same, but he was pretty sure he knew which set Gundham was looking at.

He walked over to the shelf and picked up the box of all black ornaments.

“These ones too then.” He proudly proclaimed and begin to walk towards the tills.

“Dearest… you do not have to do that. I understand my taste can be a bit… ostentatious…” Soda knew Gundham sometimes got a little embarrassed about how much he liked anything that looked dark and/or mysterious, but he also knew his boyfriend genuinely enjoyed that stuff too.

So he just squinted at Gundham and reached for a second box of black ornaments before finally heading for the tills.

Gundham chased after him, obviously a bit flustered. He kept muttering apologies and telling Soda he really didn’t need the ornaments until they finally made it home.

Once the door shut behind them, Soda took Gundham’s face in both his hands and kissed him.

“Done apologizing? Get it out of your system?” He stared at Gundham until he nodded. “Good. Cus I love you and your stupid goth style, and I think these ornaments are fucking sweet.” Soda kissed him again. “Gonna have the most badass tree anyone’s ever seen.”

Gundham was smiling again, a soft embarrassed smile, but a smile nonetheless.

“Shall we begin then?”

_

An hour later Soda had to admit that 3 boxes or ornaments may have been too many, but the tree looked awesome and he wasn’t going to complain.

Covered from top to bottom in black, with accents of gold and silver and some warm white lights in between, the tree was a sight to behold. Yeah, it looked extra as hell, but Soda really did think it looked badass. Hell, even if he had hated it, it would have been worth it to see the look on Gundham’s face.

Gundham was openly smiling at the tree, looking as happy as he had been on the day Soda had admitted his feelings to him, and it was making his heart melt.

Soda wrapped his arms around Gundham from behind, and hummed into his shoulder.

“Y’know you really do have good taste, babe.” He couldn’t help but playfully bite at Gundham’s neck, making him laugh a little. “You fell in love with me after all.” He blew a raspberry into Gundham’s neck and they both dissolved into a puddle of smiles and laughter.

_

It was tacky. Soda knew it was tacky, and he picked up a back up just in case Gundham hated it, but he couldn’t resist it.

He had been out looking for a tree topper, probably some kind of star since neither of them were religious and an angle would look out of place on their tree, which had been “imbued with dark and mysterious energies.” And he really had planned on finding a nice star, preferably a gold one with some black accents or something to match the rest of the tree, but then he saw it.

The tree topper was a hamster. It’s arms and legs were spread wide, so it was vaguely star shaped, and it was dressed like Santa. Soda had choked when he saw it. Then he immediately bought it, grabbing a more generic looking gold star only after he broke out of his ‘buying-a-stupid-thing-Gundham-might-hate-but-might-also-love’ haze.

Now, standing at in front of the door to their apartment, Soda felt unbelievably stupid. It had just been a dumb waste of money. Gundham was gonna hate it and make Soda sleep on the couch for the night to make him think about what he had done. Ok, well, whatever. He’d just show Gundham the back up star and return the hamster later, he never even had to know about it.

He entered their apartment and the tension in his body immediately began to fade. Gundham was in the kitchen, humming along to Christmas music and pulling something out of the oven that smelled like it might be gingerbread. He turned and smiled at Soda before returning to what he was doing.

Soda set down his bag and started taking off his winter gear. While he was hanging his jacket, he heard Gundham approach him.

“Did you find an adequate decoration, dearest?” He placed a slightly flour covered hand on Soda’s shoulder and bent to kiss his cheek.

“Mmhm, it’s in the bag-” Shit. He kicked off his boots as fast as he could and turned. “Wait, Gundham-“

“Oh, this is magnificent. Excellent choice, my beloved, dark consort.” Thank Hamster Jesus, Gundham had pulled the normal star from the bag.  “Hmm? What else did you-” Soda retracted his thanks from Hamster Jesus, he could rot in Hamster Hell.

Gundham gently set the gold star down as he starred in horror at the abomination that was the hamster Santa star.

“Look, Gundham, I can explain. I just-”

Gundham burst out laughing. He clutched the Hamster Santa to his chest and absolutely cackled.

“Uh, Gundham?”

Soda watched in horror as he witnessed what he could only assume was Gundham snapping and going absolutely bat-shit insane. He had doubled over and fallen to his knees, still laughing so hard that Soda was sure he couldn’t breathe.

“Babe?”

Gundham took a deep, shaky breath and wiped tears from his eyes before setting Hamster Santa to the side and extending a hand so Soda could help him up.

At least, that’s what Soda had thought he wanted.

Gundham pulled his boyfriend to the ground with him, expertly rolling Soda onto his back and pinning him below him. Gundham bent to kiss all over Soda’s face, laughing a little again.

“Um, so…” Soda was at a loss for words. Had he broke his boyfriend with the shitty star or-

“I love it. It is terrible and I do not believe I have ever loved an object more.” Gundham laughed a little and sat back on his knees, reaching for Hamster Santa again and allowing Soda to sit up. He turned it in his hands and chuckled.

“Uh, really? You sure it’s not too, uh, tacky?” Soda smiled a little and placed a hand on Gundham’s thigh.

“Oh, it is incredibly tacky. Were I freed from this mortal shell and once more able to access the full depths of my dark power, I still do not believe I would be able to find any object more so.” Soda frowned, but Gundham kissed him again. “And yet, it brings me great joy to think you saw this and thought ‘what better gift could there be to bring my beloved, than an abomination which depicts a fusion one of his most cherished dark beasts with the blasphemous idol of a once holy day.’” Gundham laughed again and patted Hamster Santa with more affection than it really deserved.

“Uh, yup, my exact thoughts, word for word.” ‘Hamster funny, give Gundham’ was close enough to what Gundham had said, right? “But really, we don’t have to put that one on the tree, we can just put it somewhere else, or return it, or-“

“This beast will adorn the most honored spot on our tree, and I will not hear otherwise.”

“But won’t it kinda ruin the, like, aesthetic?”

“It will make the aesthetic, my love, and we will place it immediately.” Gundham stood and pulled Soda up with him, giving him another kiss on his forehead before pulling him to the tree by his hand. He proudly handed Hamster Santa to Soda. “Do the honours, my dearest.”

Soda grimaced as he was handed the tacky decoration, he really didn’t want to ruin their tree, and besides-

“I can’t reach the top of the tree, where’s the-” He was cut off by Gundham wrapping his arms around his waist and lifting him into the air. Soda couldn’t help but laugh, he liked being picked up by Gundham almost as he liked picking him up. “Fine then, have it your way.” He (gently) slammed Hamster Santa on top of the tree and crossed his arms defiantly, playing up his fake annoyance.

Only to lose any semblance of actual irritation when Gundham hoisted him slightly higher and threw him over his broad shoulder. Soda let out and incredibly manly squawk as Gundham patted him on the ass.

“Thank you, my consort, allow me to express my deepest gratitude.” Gundham’s voice had taken a very familiar tone, slightly deeper than it already was, and Soda found he no longer wanted to protest as Gundham carried him to their bedroom.

_

Christmas day had, admittedly, been fairly similar to the Christmases Soda had growing up. No giant pile under the tree, and mostly practical presents. Emphasis on mostly, Soda thought as he leaned back against Gundham’s chest on the couch in his reindeer onesie. Gundham wore a matching one. It hadn’t been planned, they had both bought each other the same stupid onesie complexly by coincidence, and they had both lost their shit laughing when they opened them at the same time as well.

Even if the day itself hadn’t been all that noteworthy, Soda couldn’t happen but think this was the best Christmas he had ever had. The chaos leading up to it had been so new to him, but he already cherished the memories he had been able to make with Gundham. The tree hadn’t been the full, perfect one from his dreams, but decked out in their badass gold, black, and silver ornaments and topped with sweet, tacky, little Hamster Santa, Soda knew it was definitely more memorable.

The gifts hadn’t been huge, or extravagant, or expensive like the ones he saw in movies growing up, but they had been thoughtful and full of love and even a little silly. Soda couldn’t think of anything he would have rather received.

He leaned his head back against Gundham’s shoulder, and his boyfriend kissed him without looking away from the book he was reading. Soda let out a contented sigh.

Sitting in Gundham’s arms, surrounded by their questionable decorations and thoughtful gifts, and wearing stupid matching onesies.

This was a perfect Christmas.

[callmeelle22]

Snow

Gifted to @dameintoyland for the Flash Holiday Gift Exchange @theflashholidaysgiftexchange

Pairing: Barry Allen x Iris West

Word Count: 5912

Rating: M

Summary: Softly falling snow, spiked hot chocolate, and some light smut for the holiday season.

I want a snowfall kind of love, the kind of love that quiets the world.

When the snow starts, Barry recognizes how ridiculous it was to decide to walk to the store in the middle of the night. But, in the end, he’s sure it had been worth it.

It’d been because of a mere case of insomnia, that and the gnawing need for sustenance. A look into his refrigerator had revealed only a carton of expired eggs, an empty jug of orange juice, and a ridiculous amount of condiment bottles, so he’d stuffed his socked feet into a pair of sneakers, zipped himself into a coat, and jammed a beanie on top of his head before he’d ventured out into the cold.

When the snow starts, he’s only a few minutes into the fifteen minute walk to the grocery store. His collar is pulled up and his hands are stuffed into the pockets of his sweatpants as he takes cursory glances at the world around him. The snow is just flurries, tiny drops that appear more like rain before it hits the ground, but Barry knows how picturesque this place will look when the snow gets going in earnest. The little neighborhood he lives in, one they’re calling the arts district, is filled with tiny shops owned by rich women and their Etsy jewelry, restaurants where the food speaks, murals painted on every single building that depicts a sort of effortless diversity that isn’t actually true for the area. That’s even more notable when he looks at all of the Christmas decorations in the windows of the shops, sparkling garland wrapped around every available column, bright green wreaths chock-full of shiny gold ornaments, brilliant red bows on door handles and lamp posts. It’s all been up, much to Barry’s chagrin, since the season apparently started on November 1st, and it’s why he’s survived on work, take-out, and The West Wing since.

He curses his own absurdity as he enters the small grocery store and picks up an arm cart with a half frozen hand.  The store is one of those small ones, the ones that sell mostly single serving portions at regular prices, the store’s bright lights and gleaming floors convincing customers it’s worth paying five dollars for a half a carton of eggs. They’ve been bit by the Christmas bug too, a song he doesn’t know, I want a snowfall kind of love, that lights up the sky from below; I want a snowfall kind of love, that brings people to their window, playing in the background. They’ve managed to plop a tree smack dab in the middle of the store and the aisles are full of what he’s sure the manager thinks are only subtle odes to this godforsaken holiday.

He tries to be quick, to hurry home before he has to start sliding through the snow. He throws a loaf of bread into his cart, some cheese and eggs, packages of bacon and deli ham. He remembers that they’ve got a pretty decent frozen pizza section too, so he grabs a couple of those, trying not to focus on the fact that he’s 27 and lonely and still eating like he did when he was in undergrad—and let’s be honest, in grad school too. He rounds another corner to decide on a six-pack, or two, of beer. And that’s when he sees her.

She’s a petite thing, shorter than she normally looks when Barry sees her hightailing it from the apartment across from his, in pencil skirts and shoes with heels like spikes. Her hair usually falls straight against her shoulder blades, soft looking and shiny, and he’s only ever seen her mouth painted in shades of purple and red. Tonight, this morning, she’s as dressed down as he’s ever seen her. She's only in a pair of gray leggings, a tight white t-shirt that cups her firm chest, a faux fur-lined coat thrown over it. Her hair is in a curly wavy style that falls right at her shoulders, and he likes it, how soft and sweet it makes her look.

When he sees her in the mornings, as she’s leaving their building, it makes him a little tongue-tied, especially when she’s in those tucked in blouses that show off the deep curve of her waist. The look of her like this, though, makes Barry wonder what it feels like to have heart palpitations and if he’s having them.

He’s watching her, probably a little creepily, and so when she turns, she catches her eyes. Now, Barry really can’t breathe. Her face is improbably pretty: deep ochre skin, dark chocolate eyes, a full pouty mouth that calls for his attention as she bites at the bottom one. He thinks, for a moment, of what it might be like to be beside her, naked, her lovely brown skin next to his paler body, her small, soft hands laced in his. He wonders, in the same moment, what it might be like to kiss her—her mouth, the soft heat between her legs—her long-lashed eyes closed in ecstasy. It paints a pretty vivid picture and Barry is sure he loses a bit of time.

“Oh, I know you,” she says, a hint of passion in her voice.

Barry blinks, looks behind him at the freezer full of overpriced beer, and then back to where there’s more than a hint of a smirk on her face.

“You mean me?”

“Yeah. You’re the one with the lab coat.”

Barry would like to note that as long as she’s been living across from him, a few months now, he’s been hoping for glimpses of her each time he’s left his own apartment. It’s a bit astonishing to know that she’s noticed him too.

“I, uh, yeah,” he mumbles, reaching up the rub at the back of his head. “I, I wear a lab coat.”

“Nice,” she says, and there’s some honey in the way she says the word, the way it drips down off her tongue.

Barry tilts his head, a bit incredulous. “Lab coats get you off?”

It isn’t what he meant to say, but her grin gets wider and there’s no doubt that Barry’s face goes bright red.

“I didn’t mean…” he starts, but the words get stuck.

She doesn’t seem offended. If anything, her grin gets wider, turns dirtier, and she winks at him as she starts to push her cart away. “See ya, lab coat.

“Wait,” he calls, and she turns, neatly shaped eyebrows raised.

“It's, uh, it's Barry, Barry Allen," he manages to get out.

 “I'm Iris West," she tells him. And then she—and Barry admits he could be hallucinating, admits that he might be high off the scent of her, of shea and coconut—gives him a slow, long look over, taking in the length of his legs and his slim torso, his broad shoulders. She lingers, in a few places he’s sure, at his crotch and somewhere around his throat, and then she's looking at his face again. She licks her lips. "I'll see you around, Barry Allen."

That should be it, Barry thinks, as she leaves the aisle and he presses as much of himself against the cold freezer glass as he can. Good lord. But then Barry pays for his food with the scowling person they’ve convinced to work the night shift at a 24 hour grocery store, and then he’s walking out of the store, clutching his purchases, prepared to make his way back home. And then Iris West is calling out for him, her car idling at the corner beside him. 

“Just taking a late night stroll?” she wonders.

He licks at his lips where they've suddenly gone dry. "Yeah. I got hungry and there wasn't any food in my apartment."

“So you thought a quick walk in the snow would do it?"

Were it anyone else, he thinks he might have been annoyed at her for goading him. But she's pretty and he likes the way her dark eyes sparkle with mirth, and something a bit deeper, darker, when she looks at him.

“I feel like you're judging me," he says, his own mouth quirking up.

“Of course I am." She pauses as she turns back into the car. She seems to be moving things around. “Get in, Barry Allen."

They don’t make much conversation on the short ride to their apartment building. The night is quiet on the empty streets, made quieter by the radio turned off and only the hum of the heater as noise. He wants to talk, but he doesn’t know what to say, or if she even wants to speak, so he let’s the ride soothe him. It reminds him of time spent with his parents, years ago. He’d always had trouble sleeping, a condition that has no true origins. But, sometimes, when he couldn’t get to sleep and he’d started to get grumpy because of it, his parents would bundle him up, sit him in the back of the car, and drive around until easy listening jazz and soft falling snow had lulled him to sleep. It’s one of many memories of his family, of the parents he’d lost when he’d been old enough to register their absence. He tries to keep them at bay, those memories that could turn overwhelming and crippling were he to let it.

Christmas doesn’t help. They’d been big Christmas people, spending the Friday after Thanksgiving picking out a tree and dusting off ornaments that had been sitting in the attic for the year, baking cookies as they let him throw tinsel everywhere. The last year he'd had with them, when he was seven years old and had just begun wearing those hideous coke-bottle top glasses, had been the biggest one yet. He'd been allowed to do more: actually pick the Christmas tree, carefully put the cookies in the oven, write out the full thank you for Santa Claus. It'd all been so exhilarating, until the day after Christmas, when date night had turned into a crushed car and stoic police officers and a bull faced woman who'd made him throw clothes in a duffle bag he hadn't owned; when he’d been stuck with the reality that the last time he would ever see his parents was through the window of his old house, Christmas lights blinking back at him.

“Hey, we’re here."

It’s only when she speaks that Barry notices they’ve stopped and she’s parked in one of the spots designated for their building. He looks at her, blinking back into the present. He answers the question written all over her face.

“Oh, yes. I'm," he shakes his head, trying to clear it. He swallows. "Yeah, I'm good."

This time, the smile she gives him is kind.      

“Sure?"

“Yeah." He rubs at his eyes. "Let's get inside before the snow starts falling more."

Later, Barry will give half a thought to what makes Iris West invite him into her apartment. They both schlep up the stairs to their third floor apartments, bags in hand, Barry trying not to wish her coat would rise a little higher as he follows behind her. He grabs his key from the pocket of his sweatpants, poised with a hand at the door, and when he turns to tell her good night, she’s staring back at him, her teeth sunk into her bottom lip. If he didn’t know any better, he might think she was nervous.

“Chances you’d want to come in?” she blurts, “for some hot chocolate?”

Barry has two choices here. He can say thank you and go into his apartment, where the snow will still be falling and he’ll drink at least two of the beers he bought, and he’ll think about what he and his parents might’ve been doing for this Christmas holiday. Or he can go into the apartment of the woman he’s been drooling after for months and share some hot chocolate. 

So really, there’s no choice at all.

 ************

The clock on Iris’s microwave reads 1:15 when he finds himself standing beside her stove.

When they’d first come into the apartment, she’d left him awkwardly at the door while she’d gone to change. He’d kicked off his shoes at the door, placed his coat on one of the hooks near her door, and then he’d taken a casual glance around the room. Her apartment has the same layout as his, an open floor plan with a large living room and nice sized kitchen, a large island separating the two rooms in lieu of a dining area. A hallway off the living room leads to two bedrooms and a separate bathroom. That is where the similarities end, though. Her place is cozy, the living room featuring an overstuffed couch in a robin's blue fabric and a cream colored loveseat. A large rug under a distressed cream coffee table in a swirling pattern of blues and golds and greens ties it all together. It's a far cry from the hand me down-albeit comfortable-sectional that takes up most of his living area and the hardwood floors he hadn't bothered to cover when he realized that any decent rug cost his grocery bill for a couple weeks.

Even more is the fact that it's decorated for Christmas. There's a neat tree in the corner, teeming with shiny ornaments and blue garland and strings of white lights. There's some gold and silver tinsel thrown artfully in a way that Barry would never be able to manage, and even his cold, anti-Christmas heart can admit that with the giant blue, gold, and cream bow at the top, the tree is beautiful. Other knick knacks find their places around the room: two stockings on her mantle, a few blue bows tied on various pieces of furniture, an intricate figurine of a black Santa Claus. He’d thought that he should have figured her for a Christmas person.

When she'd come back, it’d been confirmed. She'd thrown on a pajama short set, the top with buttons and a collar, the bottoms showing the expanse of legs that look too long for her short stature, all of it in candy cane stripes. Barry doesn't always love the symbols of Christmas, especially those that remind him too much of the last one he had with his parents, but nothing in Barry's body objected to seeing her walking out like that, not even the reindeer socks covering her feet and ankles. He's glad that he'd showered and thrown on clean clothes after his Netflix binge.

Now, he stands beside her as she whisks cocoa powder into a large saucepan full of milk and sugar. Her kitchen is neat and clean, with bright yellow accessories and framed quotes that claim her love of coffee.

“Did you ever make cocoa with your parents?”

He glances down at his socked feet, and then over at her. She's still whisking, her small hands and nude nails gently gripping the base of the whisk. His heart clenches at the question, but when she starts speaking without his answer, he thinks maybe it expands, just a little bit.

“My grandma swore by homemade hot chocolate. Homemade everything, really. She'd only ever make it in December and only on Sunday nights. It was a thing to look forward to, I guess, a sort of tradition.”

“Does she still make it every Sunday in December?”

She shakes her head, her answering smile only a touch sad. "No. She died when I was 15."

Barry wonders how she does it, says the words without the pain of death overtaking her, without the memory of drinking hot cocoa with her grandmother sending her running away from milk and chocolate and sugar.

“I,” he says, and decides that this must be the way people feel when he used to tell them about his own parents, full of pity and sympathy. “I’m really sorry, Iris.”

“Thanks. She was ready to go, so I think I made peace with it early on."

Barry stays leaned against the counter as he watches her, the stirring methodical, an easy, constant clockwise motion. “Did your grandmother teach you how to make anything else?”

“She tried,” Iris tells him, laughing up at him. “But it never took. I am woefully inadequate in the kitchen.”

There’s something about a woman like Iris, beautiful and seemingly kind, that intimidates him. She seems so self assured, so well-adjusted, that he seems too good for him, like he’d only manage to bring her down into the depths of his own grief if he wasn’t careful.

“Can you cook?” She wants to know.

He shakes his head. “I literally just bought frozen pizza and eggs.”

“Good.” She gives him a sharp nod. “If you could cook on top of being this cute, I’m not sure I’d let you leave this apartment.”

Barry leans down and catches her eyes. “I could learn, if you wanted me to.”

Iris hums, holding his eyes, and hers flash, white teeth biting into her bottom lip. It feels like heat, swirling around them, taking over, settling in the middle of the kitchen. It feels tight, his entire body, the result of a strange mix of swirling thoughts and deep-rooted emotions. There’s the underlying feel of heartache, a steady companion since his childhood. The loneliness that usually accompanies has taken a backseat to the growing lust flooding his system, the tightening of his chest and the tingling in his hands he gets when he looks at her. He isn’t normally a flirt, is normally a fumbling mess when he gets around beautiful women. But it’s her, this woman, that makes him feel a touch bolder, a touch daring, a bit more like he would be if he didn’t live so much in his head.

“It’s time for chocolate chips,” she announces, and it’s the only warning Barry gets before she’s suddenly pressed against him. In reality, it’s quick, he knows it is. She merely reaches over him to grab a package of chocolate chips from the cupboard above his head. But god, if the world doesn’t stop moving as he feels the full length of her, supple thighs flush against the hardness of his, her flat belly and firm breasts almost molded to him. The smell of her is overpowering, the coconut and shea butter, the cocoa powder she’d stirred into the milk.

Barry swallows as she steps back into her own space. He would think that the moment would be gone, that her dropping those chocolate chips into the pan and stirring them to melt them faster would calm him down. It doesn’t.

It’s there, festering, as she finishes the hot chocolate, pouring the sweet drinks into giant mugs and topping them with a bit of Bailey’s. That earns him a wink, the gesture even more potent than the boozy cream he’s drinking on a mostly empty stomach. He follows her to her living room, where she sits down on the couch and motions for him to do the same. She grabs a blanket from the top of the couch and spreads it out with one hand, placing it over her lap and his, closing the distance between them just a little. He sits with his back fully against the sofa, but she’s cross-legged facing him, her attention on him intense. The room adds to it all, the Christmas tree providing the only light in the room, the small white lights casting shadows across her face. It doesn’t help, or it doesn’t hurt rather, this smooth setting. It brings it all to the forefront, the lust flowing as easily through his veins as the blood tends to do.

The following order of events he’ll give more than half a thought. He’ll question, but certainly not complain about, how they go from talking to falling against her bed, naked and twisted in her sheets.

The questions start innocently enough: how old are you? What’s your career? What are your hobbies? He finds that she’s 28 to his 27, a journalist to his research scientist, loves hiking to his personal science experiments. It’s almost like a date, the way they laugh with each other over their mugs, the spiked chocolate the invitation they need to go deeper than he imagines either of them would on a first date, to bare secrets he’d probably never speak aloud. 

He learns that she’s been watching him, waiting for a chance to speak to him, except the combination of her rushing and his own grumpy morning face kept her from reaching out. He tells her that the feeling was mutual, that he’d had improper thoughts of her after seeing her in those skirts, that he’d figured she’d never go for a guy like him so he’d just kept his distance. This takes them into deeper, dirtier waters. She wants to know his type, and he tells her, between warming sips of chocolate, that “I didn’t know, until recently, my love for women with deep brown skin and wide set eyes, and a mouth I want to sink into.”  It’s the Bailey’s, he knows, but it’s her too, and him when he’s with her, and he likes the way the words tumble from his mouth, the way she pulls the words from him.

If she were lighter, he figures there might be a touch of red at her cheeks, but she only looks down for a brief moment, a long pink tongue swiping over that bottom lip, and he watches as much as hears her say, “I always wonder if those moles are just on your face, at your throat, or if they’re everywhere else,” and Barry swallows at how her eyes drop down, as if she can see beneath his t-shirt where more moles are peppered, as if she can tell that they’re dotted on his thighs too, right around where he’s slowly growing thick and hard.

It’s after this revelation, that the tides turn.

He watches her, for signs that this isn’t just the talking of strangers drunk of chocolate and each other. There is the rise and fall of her chest, the parted lips, her eyes that keep caressing the length of him. There is her leaning towards him, her body titled enough that he can look down the front of her top, where the mounds of her breasts are free, calling for his teeth and tongue. He swallows the rest of his drink and sits the mug down on her coffee table. Iris’s moves are similar, yet more deliberate. Barry finds himself enamored by the column of her throat as she drinks, by her nude brown nails as she wipes the excess from her mouth. She stands, her shorts riding high up on her hips, and time slows again as she plops her mug down and then comes to stand in front of him. He sits back, so that he can see all of her, until she’s sliding into his lap, and then he can really see all of her, just in the curve of her smile. And then she kisses him.

The taste of her is unbelievable, like the cream she’s been drinking and like something else warmer, something else sweeter. It’s been months since he’s kissed anyone, and the times had been few and far between before, but Barry knows that nothing has ever, could ever, compare to the feeling of kissing Iris West. She’s so soft on top of him, so much warmer than he would have thought, and he’s so overwhelmed with the feel of her, that he doesn’t know what to do outside of kissing her.

Iris takes the lead. She grips both of his hands in hers, placing one at her waist and the other at her hip, and then she sinks her fingers into his hair. The kiss turns deeper, the slide of her mouth against his, the slip of her tongue between his lips, the soft clash of teeth as they figure each other out. He tries to learn her, to adjust. She likes when he nips at her bottom lip, when he brings into his mouth to suck, so he takes advantage of that, swallowing the sounds of her moans. He likes the way her fingers tip down his throat, her nails lightly digging into his skin. 

It is the sort of kiss that is written about, odes to the shape of her lips, sonnets that praise the taste of her tongue. There are songs, made for nights like this, for faint lights. and warm hands and hearts pounding.  If he had the ability, he would pen poems about her, about her thick thighs spread over his lap and the heat  of her body he swears he can feel through the fabric of their clothes.

She pulls back, her lids lowered, those chocolate eyes more black than brown now. She licks her lips again, as she watches him, as if chasing the taste of him, and Barry groans low in his throat. Her response is to smile at him, easy and seductive.

“Want to go into my bedroom?”

Barry’s hands tighten on her hips. “I want to go anywhere with you.”

It becomes, Barry decides, the best night of his life. She climbs off of him, and takes his hand, pulling him down the hall. He only takes enough of a glance around to know that the blues and the yellows and golds extend to this room too, accents to the soft white comforter over her queen sized bed. He sees the matching dresser and bookshelf, and it’s all pieces of her that Barry hopes he gets to explore.

She instructs him to take his clothes off, and he does, peeling off his shirt, his sweatpants, his boxers and socks too. Her clothes come off in quick and elegant movements, and Barry laments not being able to stare at her for longer, at the even, deep brown skin and the full breasts hanging heavy, her nipples like the perfect pieces of chocolate chips she’d melted earlier. Her belly is flat, hips round, calves shapely, and the look of her warms him from the inside.

He has very little control, and he happily gives it up, falling onto his back when she pushes him down and crawls atop him again. She uses the sharp tips of her nails and the wide flat of her tongue to trace constellations into his skin, to connect the dots across his chest, the dots at the slight v of his hips; to stamp her name on the imperfections marring the skin of his thighs. It’s a heady feeling, only multiplied when Iris takes the length of him into her hand and then into her mouth. His head drops back onto the pillow, her mouth warm and wet. She takes as much of him as she can and then she pulls back to the tip. She gathers the spit in her mouth, letting it drip down his dick, and then she’s sucking him with purpose, her hands sliding up and down where her mouth can’t reach, the suction of her lips glorious. She swallows him down, the slight gag when he hits the back of her throat releasing something primal in him.

“Fuck, Iris,” he says and it’s something more like a growl, the feel of her indescribable. She hums around him, and then pulls away with a pop, giving her attention to his swollen, aching testicles. He lets her suck him until his breathing grows labored, and then he’s pulling gently at her curly hair, stuttering, “want, want to come in you.”

She stays on her knees in front of him, for moments longer, and then she smiles, the sultry one she’d thrown at him in the grocery store, the one she’d thrown him in the kitchen, the smile that’s got him in her bedroom.

“It’s insane how beautiful you are,” he tells her, and he likes the way it makes her body flush, a red tinge to her skin. He motions for her now, and she crawls back up, settling her crotch over him. He notes the warmth of her pussy on his belly, and it makes his own grin a touch sordid.

“Is this because of me?” He finds himself asking. “Did sucking me off get you wet?”

Her eyes flutter closed briefly. 

“I like it,” she says, “when you say these dirty things I’m not expecting.”

“It’s only because of you,” he says, and then he curls his finger around her neck and brings her down to kiss him.

This kiss is wet, open-mouthed, filthy. Barry wonders how he got here, how a short walk in the snow led to this gorgeous person writhing atop him, mumbling increasingly coarse things in his ear. He touches her where he can: fingers tipping down her spine and over her hips; hands kneading her breasts, pinching gently at the hardened peaks of her nipples; thumbing her swollen clit until the wet of her is dripping down her thighs.

Then Barry flips her over, under the insatiable need to have her spread out beneath him, and he watches her tiny hands cover the length of him with a condom. 

When he’s finally inside of her, Barry swears that, when she kicks him out of her bed, he’ll do everything in his power to be worthy of her. As her thighs clamp at his hips and he swivels them until he’s buried all the way inside her, he vows to work to be enough for her, and for him too.

She’s so wet, as he rocks into her, and he tells her so, murmuring into her ear, “god, you’re so wet, baby; you feel so good around me.” She talks back, as she digs her nails into his skin enough to leave scars. “I, I never,” she whispers, her voice is soft like white falling snow and sweet like warm, melting chocolate. “I never guessed you’d feel like this.”

She milks him, gripping him in her heat, clenching around him as pulls out, letting her wetness flood him when he pushes back in. Their rhythm is steady, rocking and sliding, rocking and sliding. He holds onto her thigh, hiking it over his hip, and he tangles his hands in her hair enough to hold her steady, enough to take her mouth again. His mouth is gentler on her, mimicking the slide of his body. This feels deeper somehow, their bodies so close he’s touching every single part of her. She pulls away only enough to gasp against his mouth, “damn, Barry Allen,” falling off against his lips, followed by a laugh that turns into a low, slow “ffffuuuucccckkkk.”

When he comes, it’s at the same time that she’s clenching around his dick, their bodies slick with sweat. He falls on top of her, and their breathing mellows out. Eventually, he tries to move away from her, but she holds him there, wrapping her arms around him and pressing her face into his neck.

“You okay?” he whispers.

He feels her nod against him. “Perfect.”

************

She doesn’t kick him out after.

Instead, they clean up and then she asks Alexa to play a song, I want a snowfall kind of love, the kind that keeps you in bed all day; oh I want to walk through with you, and watch it all melt away, and she curls into him, her naked breasts pressing against his side, her leg thrown over his thigh. He’s in the space between exhaustion and awareness, his eyes heavy lidded as he comes back down from the high that was being inside Iris West.

There’s a sort of ambiance to the room now, one that makes this all seem more romantic and intimate than he knows what to do with. The blinds are open to the wall length windows that make these apartments worth it, and the night is dark, any stars in the navy blue blanket overshadowed by the softly falling snow. The flakes are thicker now, sticking to where they drop. It has the makings of a storm, especially in how much faster it’s coming down than when he’d been walking in it.

He can imagine them, in only a few hours, when the sun has barely crested the horizon and the cold is settling into the room, being wrapped up in Iris again. He can imagine even more, when the snow melts and the sun is on its way back down again, holding Iris’s hand in his as she walks beside him, in red high heels that match his shirt, in an easy smile that looks like his own, as they head to where they’ll talk and laugh and flirt over red wine and candlelight.

And because he can imagine it, because he wants to imagine it, to make it a reality, he finds himself telling her all of it: about The West Wing marathon he’d been watching since the start of the month because he remembers it had been his parents’ favorite show and he’d seen that it was on Netflix; about his attempts to befriend one of his colleagues, Cisco, because he’s never really had a friend and he thinks that he can be one, if he tries hard enough; about the crashed car that changed his life and the pain of Christmas lights and shiny tinsel that he’s begun talking to someone to alleviate.

For a moment, he thinks he’s said too much. Sure, she’s pretty and she’s sweet and she makes him feel like no one ever has before. But he’s only met her hours ago and it’s this, this kind of baggage, that’s kept him from reaching out, from trying to get close to anyone.

She still doesn’t kick him out. Instead, she tells him about her own childhood, about how distant parents had turned into divorced ones and how the strained tension hadn’t left just because they were no longer in the house yelling at one another. She tells him the struggles she’s had at work, at having to write whatever the paper deems as “black issues,” and the double edged sword that comes with wanting to write universal stories, and also wanting to take those black stories for fear no one else will write them with as much care and nuance. She explains how unlucky in love she’s been, how her thoughts are dismissed because men think she’s too pretty or how her well-earned independence is far too independent for them to see her seriously. It makes her more real to him, and Barry ponders how quickly one could fall in love.

They talk, until the sun does rise over Iris's window sill. And Barry rolls onto his back to pull her atop him, fingering into her until she’s dripping down his wrist. He sheathes himself and pushes himself into her, wet hands holding onto her hips as she takes over, grinding down onto him until they’re both a simpering, moaning mess, soaked and sated. After, Iris cuddles on top of him again, her mouth against his throat as she tells him, “of course, we’ll go out later,” when he whispers the question into hair.

They fall asleep to the still quietly falling snow.

Won't you bury me in your quiet love, oh bury me in your quiet love, bury me in your quiet love, and we will blow away.

[horrorslashergirl]

Rudolph Myers

.This one wormed its way inside my head when I was doing some Christmas shopping and saw a Rudolph costume and taught ‘Michael sure would look hot with horns’.

I am sure that I’m going to hell. Oh well....Cheers guys and an early Merry Christmas!~

Michael Myers x Reader

Warning: NSFW content below...you’ve been warned.

Christmas was probably your second favorite holiday, first been Halloween thanks to your hard as a rock boyfriend. He wasn’t so excited peer say to Christmas, it was too jolly for his brutal personality, beside he hated snow and how his hands were freezing on the handle of his infamous kitchen knife.

For your sake of course he sucked up, after all you didn’t complain this years Halloween when he came all blood dripping in your house, making a mess that you needed almost a week to clean up.

So here you were decorating the Christmas tree that maybe was a bit too big. Your luck was that you bought new Christmas decorations these year so you had enough to fill the whole tree. You tried to reach the higher branches of the tree with no such luck so you went to get a chair, climbing on it to put glitter silver stars.

As you were done with the stars, you took another box of decorations, those been little angels, but when your eyes looked up in the entry of the living room was no other than Michael. You didn’t even hear him; sometimes you cursed his stealthy moves, but right now all you needed to do was to bite your lower lip, trying not to burst into laughters.

Right now Michael was probably fumming behind his mask that amusingly had a pair of reindeer horns with golden bells on the faux hair of his mask and to match the horns a deep red Rudolph nose on the nose of his latex mask. Looking down you noticed a black leather collar with golden bells on it.

Yes, you remember that you persued Michael in dressing up for Christmas, saying it would be fun, since you pleased him in wearing these year Halloween a kitten costume, so it was only fairplay. You had to admit he looked quiet cute like that. If only you can imagine the Shape of Haddonfield dressed up like one of Santas reindeer, oh God! It was prieceless.

“Well, hello there Rudolph~” you teased and giggled, your only respons was Michael grumbling under his mask. He walked to the kitchen probably to feast opon more Christmas cookies, knowing his sweet tooth and appetite. You went on with your decorating, when the chair became to small for the last brances of the tree. Getting down you went to get the ladder, putting it next to the Christmas tree and climbing to finish the top. Maybe some 5 minutes passed when you heard bootsteps coming closer to you, stopping right behind you. Probably Michael wante to see your finish on the Christmas tree; that was when you felt your skirt been lifted a little. Turning your face to see what that big giant creeper was doing, your face felt like it was on fire.

That little shit peeked under your skirt! And worse you were wearing your favorite red lacy see-through panties. You were ready to kick him in the face when his strong arms picked you up with ease, spinning you around, until you were thrown on his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, your face almost level with his volouptous derier.

“H-Hey! Let me d-down! MYERS!” you screamed as you banged your small fists on his broad hulk like back, as he took long calculated strides upstairs to his old bedroom and now presently you twos love nest. He kicked open the bedroom door with a bang and closed it with his foot. As he toosed you down the fluffy bedsheets you looked up at the tall hunk of a man as he loomed over you at the end of the bed, just like a predator if only for the Christmas costume, you couldn’t possibly take him seriously.

Still, with that leather collar and those alluring horns he looked kind of kinky. Maybe it could yurn out to be fun. Your lips pulled up in a naughty smirk as you looked up at him with half-lidded eyes.

“Well then....come here then....Rudolph~” you beckoned Michael with your pointing finger, signalling him to come closer.

He didn’t needed to be told twitch; with one knee pressed on the end of the bed he crawled on all fours to your curvaceous form. As he was now on top of you, his piercing dark eyes meet your glossy shiny ones and you couldn’t hold his gaze anymore; his stare was just so intense even after such a long time he still had these effects on you.

His fingers trailed your form, from your thighs to your hip, then ghosting over your ribs and stopping over your collarbone, where there laied past bitemarks and hickeys from the last love-making you had with Michael. Those bruises where fading, but no worries, because the man above you would make sure to leave new ones today.

His hand moved a little higher until he reached your neck, where in a fraction of a second he had his large hand in a vice like grip on your throat, not enough to crush it to pieces to enough to play with your breath, showing you that he was in complet control, no buts or ifs; just like everytime. Your breath hitched and you let out a gasp of surprise, your tiny hands clutching on the sleve of his coveralls.

Been a little more daring today you moved your leg over his hip, the heel of your foot massaging the muscle of his thigh, making him freeze up a little only to slam his other hand on the headboard of the bed, making a loud noise echo in the empty two story house. Maybe a little bit too daring. The hand on the headboard trailed down to your shoulder just like the hand on the neck, both of them making their ways to the front of your button-up shirt and just like that he ripped it open, making buttons fly over the room down to the floor.

He was so rough and brutal in his movements; he was just himself, taking pleasure in seeing your shocked and wide-opened eyes look up at him. Michael was just making sure that your eyes were focused on him, he hated when you avoided eye contact with him. He pulled the bottom of his mask up, only for his mouth to be exposed. You noticed a little bit of stubble on his chin, making his apparence more roughish and manly. He shaved, well after he meet you you teached him some self care, altough you enjoyed when he had that second day stubble.

His mouth crashed on yours, taking your breath away. He was by far the complet opposite of vanilla, but you enjoyed it; it was so much more fun and he always managed to surprise you. His kisses where full of tongue and teeth crashing together, like a spicy up dance. You could get drunk in his kisses all day, having that taste of candies and blood from biting your lip to hard. As he pulled away from your tongue, his teeth caught your already bleeding bottom lip between his dangerous teeth that you knew could tear into flesh if he wanted to. His dark eyes remained on yours, looking at you as if he was saying ‘I dare you to disobey me’. Michael could talk and he did, but on rare occasions, but his eyes were speaking much more to you.

He let go of your lip as your head hit the pillow. Looking up at the dark man above you that was now sitting on his knees between your legs, with an too obviouse bulge inside his mechanic suit, he licked the remaining blood from his upper lip, his tongue ghosting outside his mouth like a snake. In the dark you could see the mischief that laied in Michaels eyes, even with his mask you could read them like an open book; maybe because he let you. One hand moved to your hip and turned you around, laying on your stomach, but not to long as his strong killer hands dig into your hips pulling your lower body up, sitting you on all fours. That was until one hand pushed right between your shoulder blades, making your face hit the pillow.

You knew what he meant ‘Face down, Ass up.’ What you learned about Michael was that he was a very complicated lover....in the bedroom. He could switch from been sensual to complet animalistic in a matter of second; altough the sensual part was very rare, just when he felt in a very good mood and now he wasn’t exaclly to happy, mainly because of your little teasing, mocking the Boogyman; such a wrong move.

Lifting your skirt up and ripping it in half he could now clearly see your lacy covered heat, a wet spot on the red fabric from the previous foreplay. His hand moved from your thigh to one of your buttcheeks, giving it a harsh slap followed by a rough gropping, leaving fingermarks. You only could moan at the harsh treatment, knowing it was in vain to fight him; let him take what he wants; that’s the rule. He did the same to the other buttcheek, then his fingers ghosted over your covered rose, just his fingertips touching you a little, teasing you, making you squirm. If you turned you would see his devious smirk as you let out wanton moans over and over again, muffled by the pillow.

Taking the top of your panties in his hand he pulled it up, giving your aching womanhood a good wedge, making you holler.

“M-Michael....Oh God!” you bt your lip as tears followed down the corners of your gloosy lust-filled eyes. The piece of lingery was now rubbing so harshly right between your lower lips, making you grind your teeths at the brute behind you who was probably now smirking smugly at your flustered form.

“E-Easy there R-Rudolph.” you looked at him from the corner of your eyes, deciding to poke the bear a little, after all you didn;t wanted to give him full on satisfaction. Instantly Michaels mouth was in a straight line and befor you could even blink anymore, he pulled your panties aside, sticking two long fingers right in your heat, knuckle deep, grinding it as you screamed at the force. His other hand was crushing right behind your neck, making sure you staied put. As you clenched on his fingers, your peak coming closer and closer until he withdrawed his fingers, making you whimper at the lose you were feeling in your stomach.

Your whimper only stopped when you could hear the faint sound of the metallic zipper of his coveralls been pulled down. Taking his lengh out he pulled the head of it on your lower lips, rubbing the hot pink head on your slit, coating it in your juices. It felt so hot that your knees where shaking in anticipation, knowing damn well what that monstrous manhood of his could do to your body. He was the complet definition of succulent male anatomy and you loved it, completly; you would cherrish this man to the end of your life.

You let out a gasp as the bulbous head of his cock slide inside your dripping folds, making your walls clench in anticipation as the lengh slide in inch by inch until he was inside, completly to the hilt, making your grind your ass on his hips, making him growl at your teasing gesture, until he grippied your hips in a dead like lock, giving you the simple silent phrase ‘I am in control.’ All you could o was accept his harsh control.

He pulled almost all of it out, letting just the head inside, then slamming back inside and again and again, over and over again; picking up his speed with each thrust, making your buttcheeks jiggle, with the occasional spankings. His sweaty chest moved over your back as his teeth grazed over your shoulder, nipping here and there, some bites very deep, other just teasingly there. Your eyes rolled inside your head as the head of his lengh hitted your cervix, making sweet shivers of pleasure crawl up your spine.

The hand that wasn’t pinning you down by your neck, sneaked between your legs, his thumb and index finger pinching and rubbing the little bud of nerves under the hood, sending electryfing shocks all over your sweating body, your toes curling with each thrust of Michaels hips. You knew he was getting closer too just from the rapid pace that he picked, the pistoning of his hips getting more sloppy, not to mention the erotic growls and groans that he let out in your ear as you felt the twitching of his lengh inside you.

With one final thrust you felt ropes of cum hitting your walls and cervix, painting your walls white. It was so much for you and he didn’t even stopped.

“Cum.” That sentence that leaved his chapped lips in a deep and roughish voice, made your walls clench around him, sending you on cloud nine, your nails creating little holes in the bedsheets that you were cluching in your fists until your knuckles turned white from presure.

In the silent bedroom all you could heard was both of you trying to catch your breathing after the intense love-making. He pulled out slowly and before both of your juices could leak out he pulled your lacy wet panties over your heat, then giving you one final spank over your red buttcheeks.

“Great....now my ass is as red as your nose, Rudolph.” you complained, trying to sit up and go to the shower, only to stumble over your steps. He smirked at your limping form as he watched his cum dripping down between your thighs.

He might enjoy from now on Christmas if each year would turn out like this one. That’s what Michael taught as he pulled his coveralls all the way down, leaving him naked as he walked to the shower where you were relaxing; his southern Rudolph standing up on attention already.