#easy snowflake it's just a red hat

[trexalicious]

[shadowhearts-ponytail]

christmas with abby anderson!

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ masterlist ˚୨୧⋆｡˚⋆

a/n: I love winter so so much! and I love abby, so here you go!

warnings: this is just fluffy Christmas activities. there is a bit of a suggestive joke. but nothing too bad. let me know if I missed anything!

words: 1,066

abby is a Christmas girly. for sure. she loves Christmas. it is the most wonderful time of the year for her. by far. her favorite holiday. she goes all out.

abby has one of those mistletoe hats. the ones that hang mistletoe over you and another person. she wears it all the time as an excuse to pull you into a kiss. her hands on your hips as she leans down to plant a long kiss on your lips.

she has mistletoe all over your shared apartment. for extra kisses. in every single doorway. she keeps some mistletoe in her pockets to pull it out when you both are out so she can hold it over your head and pout for a kiss.

making Christmas cookies. she's a sugar cookie girl. simple. easy to make. plus, she likes decorating them with frosting after but will complain that the frosting "makes them overly sweet" when she's the one that drenched it in red and green icing and snowflake sprinkles.

she always makes cookies to give to her dad. she always makes him a big tin full of different kinds. chocolate chip, sugar cookies, oatmeal cookies, snickerdoodles, gingerbread men.

she's actually quite a skilled baker. old family recipes she knows by heart. muscle memory usually kicks in when she kneads the dough. she hums when she bakes. while she waits for the oven, she'll do a little dance if she thinks you aren't looking.

she makes fresh bread and cakes and so many sweets around the holidays. she's not one to eat sweets, but she loves making them for friends or family.

she makes enough to feed a damn army of 5,000 gren men and then sends them with you to work for your coworkers or to your family.

"no, baby. you know I hate cookies and cake. just give it to your family. or I'm sure your boss would love 200 cookies, right?"

"sure, abs. sure. whatever you say." you playfully roll your eyes at your girlfriend as she has once again gone overboard with the Christmas cookies, just like last year and the year before that. it's tradition at this point.

getting custom Christmas stockings with your names on them. the stockings mean a lot to her. getting to fill your stocking with little gifts, candies, and love notes would bring the purest smile to her face. and seeing her stocking next to yours. she loves seeing it. she's always wanted that. wanted someone to make her a stocking with her name on it.

she would get alice one and put it next to both of yours. full it with dog treats and chew toys. she says it makes you three a family.

abby buys alice a new collar every year and gets those doggy Christmas sweaters. she gets alice bones to chew on and toys and clothes to wear. that dog is spoiled rotten.

abby would want to take "family photos" with you and alice. she has alice wear one of the shirts in the photos.

she like hires a photographer, and everything. you go out to some field or somewhere nice to take professional pictures. she hangs them in your apartment and makes a Christmas card with them to send to both her family and yours from "The Anderson Family."

"I hope it's okay I used my last name. I'm sure you'll end up taking it anyway."

when she says this, you about choke on your water. "i-" cough, cough, "Yeah, that's fine, baby. I'm sure you're right." you tease with a little wink.

abby gets you small gifts every day of December up until Christmas. a small bouquet of flowers, a little handwritten note, candies. simple things. she sees it as an extra excuse to spoil you. not that she ever needs one. but she's just a sappy romantic like that.

she always wants to come home to you as soon as she gets off work to cuddle up and watch some Christmas movies, and warm up the apartment by cooking you dinner or baking.

abby probably isn't one of those people who's crazy particular about the ornaments on the tree. like they don't have to be all the same colors and shit. she would like handmade ones more. ones that were passed down in the family. sentimental ones.

she always puts the same star on the tree every year. one her dad got her as a gift. it'd very important to her. she packs it in a metal box wrapped in bubble wrap and blankets to keep it safe.

but she refuses to get on the ladder and out it on the tree. she's too scared of heights. she won't get further than the first step on the ladder.

"abby, cmon. just put the star on the tree. I'll get the ladder."

"No! I can't. what if I fall and break my neck?" she asks with puppy eyes and a big pout.

"abs are you serious? the chances of that are, like, zero!" you argue back to the muscled woman before you, "besides you're taller than me."

instead of arguing back, she picks you up in her massive arms and hoists you to sit on her shoulder.

"abby!"

"there. now you're taller. now you have to do it"

she wears boxers with Christmas prints on them. snowmen, reindeer, santa, snowflakes.

you guys are bickering about something meaningless, and to lighten the mood, she just unbutton her pants and push them down to her knees to reveal boxers with a mistletoe print on them then yell, "kiss it then!"

you can't help but burst into laughter and clutch your stomach as you double over in a fit of laughter.

abby looks at you with a cheeky grin, "still mad at me, baby?"

abby is a fanatic about Christmas lights. she likes going to the park closer to Christmas to see all the lights at night. she'd be so excited. begging to go every night until they take them down.

she brings you to the annual anderson family dinner. the first time she brought you, she was so excited, but you were so nervous.

she was practically bouncing with joy when her dad brought you into a tight hug the moment he met you. he immediately started to talk your ear off. making you feel welcome.

you are definitely invited to next year's dinner.

a/n: feedback is always welcome!

[riaki]

santa claus and his treats | satoru gojo x f!reader pt.1 of christmas event! wc: 3.4k oops i went overboard | cw: petnames, literally j pure fluff ur both STUPID in love, he’s the cutest! happy birthday pretty boy 🧸

"'toru?" you called, voice filling the dimly lit room as you peeked your head in through the door. the curtains were drawn, the iridescent green tinsel dotted with soft yellow lights framing the doorway of your bedroom scratching your neck as you spotted the white-haired boy sitting on your shared bed, picking at something on his lower lip.

you took a moment to drink in the sight— his soft white hair that fell over dazzling sky-blue eyes, the color of the lake dotted with fragile crystalline snowflakes that melted into fresh spring streams that fed nature with new growth and fresh flower buds, a tangible warmth when his gaze fell on you and an easy smile stretched across his pink lips. a little too easy, you think. easy enough for you to miss the way he swipes a coffee brown crumb from his cheek; the smile has too much sugar and cream for you to buy it.

your eyes slowly drift from his charming grin to the rest of the room. there's a forest green tuft of leaves hanging from the ceiling on a thin golden string; you recognize the crimson red berries and waxed leaves with spots of pearl dotting as a bunch of mistletoe, hanging right over the mattress. clearly, he thought ahead.

you snuff the flush from your cheeks as he perks up at the sight of you, straightening his back. "hey, baby! you must be my present from santa this year," he laughs, holding his arms out, an invitation for you to crawl into his arms and curl up on his lap like two warm cats by the fireplace. you almost gave in— until you remembered why you were looking for him.

"you're getting coal this time, satoru." you said, huffing as you walked over to the mattress and put your hands on your hips, attempting to come off as intimidating in front of your boyfriend as you leaned over and stared down at him. he just giggled that sweet, boyish laughter of his, scooting closer and capturing you between two strong arms to tug you onto the bed with him. the sheets were soft, and they smelled like him as he pulled you onto his lap and cuddled you like a life-sized plushie, all warmth and soft comfort that he craved so much.

"aww, really? but it's my birthday today," he sighed loudly, shaking his head as he firmly planted his hands on either side of your head to prevent you from worming away and planting a loud smooch on the top of your hair, before laughing as you pulled away from his grasp and gave him a glare. “besides, you’re anything but a bad gift.” he smiles.

“don’t sweet talk me, ‘toru. you’ve been naughty this year.” he wiggles his eyebrows at that, and you shoot him a sharp glare which just earns you a light scoff, but there’s a smile mirrored on both of your lips.

(maybe they’ve met so many times in the past that they know how to copy the other flawlessly.)

"but you're already here, my love. lookin' all pretty like the angel on top of our tree." he hums, crossing his legs and holding his ankles as he rocks back and forth; the teddy bear he won you from the arcade on your first date is face planted into the pillows by his side, donning a festive red santa hat. the white fluffy pom pom looks like satoru's hair, and you stifle a laugh at the thought.

"how kind of you, satoru." and you mean it— he looks like his own christmas angel; snowy hair and pretty blue eyes clad in a loose black tee with cheap printed red and green christmas lights over his chest. he looks unfairly attractive with those gray sweatpants on, too. you wouldn't mind wrapping him up in yellow ribbon and presenting him to your parents this year as your holiday present from santa, and then having your own fun with him later. you suppose you must've been perfectly good to land him; so pretty and fun, bubbling laughter that speaks of his care in volumes. and he’s their soon-to-be son-in-law, after all. and he’s a golden catch.

but it’s time for this white betta to be put in his place; he’s gone snooping where he shouldn’t have— or rather, scavenging would be the more appropriate choice. and he’s about to be skinned for entering the lion(fish)'s den. your matching red-green plaid pajama pants won't save him this time.

"sorry, baby, but you can't talk yourself out of this one." you said firmly, scooting closer to him as you sat back on your knees and gave him a look as pointed and narrow as the icicles melting on the frosted awnings. to anyone else, you might look like a wet, angry cat— but to satoru, it was enough to strike fear straight into the center of his heart. his fight-or-flight response kicked in (it only ever did with you)— and it was as if you could see the change in his demeanor. his eyes voluntarily softened, lids drooping as a lazy smile drifted over his lips like fluffy white clouds over a pale sun on a winter's morning.

"aww, don't be like that. my princess looks so much prettier when she's happy," he coos, all milk and honey as he reaches out and catches your wrist, rubbing his thumb over your pulse beating beneath your soft skin as he brings it to his lips and kisses your knuckles. so he chooses to fight, and you almost fold— almost.

you twist your arm in his grasp, eliciting a whiny yelp of pain; getting him to let go of you as you quickly flick his forehead. even so, he lets you-- he never turns infinity on around you, even at the price of his own sanctity.

you sighed when he gave you a dramatic pout, sticking out his bottom lip as he hung his head low in defeat like a golden retriever being scolded by his owner, soft hair falling over his pretty blues. his hands come up to cradle his head, rubbing the spot where you'd knicked him. "don't play around, satoru. where are the cookies i baked last night?" you asked, reflecting his frown with a pointed glare. if looks could cut, he'd be a red christmas on the cloudlike sheets. you were tired of beating around the bush, especially when satoru had a knack for making it utterly exhausting. nevertheless, it went on.

"maybe santa came early," he quipped, giggling at his own joke. "you never know, huh? he's an unpredictable old geezer. likes his milk and cookies, or so i heard."

"didn't know santa claus had the six eyes." you deadpanned, crossing your arms over your chest and looking him square in the eyes. "and he shaved his beard off, apparently." he feigns hurt, holding a hand over his heart in mock anguish.

"i'm no thief! it hurts me to know you think of me so low, sweetheart." he sighs dramatically, shaking his head. outside, the snowy wind howls in agreement. "besides, it's my birthday. you're suffocating the spirit, honey." he drawls.

you just roll your eyes at that, crossing your arms and shifting to sit closer to him. you will your irritated expression to soften, and it's reflected in the way satoru immediately relaxes, shoulders sagging as the anxious look in his eyes vanishes like the wilting ghost of fall on a christmas eve, leaving behind the scent of bluebells and frost on the wind. he thinks you've forgiven him.

that's just what you need. for him to let his guard down so you can spring the trap on him. santa may be able to get away with his yearly trespassing, but satoru's entered the property of more than your heart this time, and it's time for his holiday retribution.

"give me your hand, satoru." you said softly, voice barely a breath above a whisper. he obliges almost immediately, scooting closer on the bed so that his knees graze against yours, and you hear him suck in a little breath at the contact as your hand finds his.

you take his palm in your own; his hands are considerably bigger than yours, but you still manage to run a thumb over the ridges of his knuckles, gently massaging the soft skin over weary bones. a sweet little noise leaves his breathless lips; it's almost like a purr, and when you glance up at him he's almost as red as the glittering velvet bulbs dangling from the primmed branches of your christmas tree. he looks away, a subtle pout weighing down on his lips as he coughs loudly, as if the amber sap of a pine tree has caught in his throat, scratchy like tree bark.

"what are you doing?" he whispers, voice rough and hoarse, like someone took a fireplace stoker and poked his throat. almost a protest.

but you can feel him melting into you, and soon enough, he’s sandwiched you between his warmth and the fluffy blankets, the scent of apples and cinnamon weaved between the strands of his soft white hair as they tickle your flushed skin. his lips are soft and pliant and warm against your own; he's all over you, hands finding your wrists to trace tender, wobbly circles over your thrumming pulse with his thumb. he's robbing your lungs of air, needy in the way he cages you between his lanky limbs, lock and key with his free hand threading through your hair. he can never get enough of you, and he throws his inhibitions to the frostbitten wind if they mean learning to resist you.

it's spread around you like ripples on the surface of a misty lake, and when he draws away to stare down at you, eyes blown wide with a certain shine in his eye that reminds you of glowing embers, jumping from the lively blossom of fire on the grated dark metal of a hearth, there's a cheeky lopsided grin on his glossy lips. his fingers are slender, pale and callused, a gentle flushed at the tips.

"there was a mistletoe," he says breathlessly, as if that'll excuse him. as if he needs an excuse to kiss you. you just laugh, reaching up to trace his jaw with a finger, and he shudders despite the heater inside your room. the bunch of green leaves and red berries hanging above you sways in agreement.

but you can't focus on the dreamy look on his face; that lazy smile that dances over his lips and illuminates his features like twinkling christmas lights catching on each edge of a carefully cut snowflake, the sky's jewels. every time he looks at you as if you've crafted each intricacy of his world; patched the colors together and taught the light to reflect, you feel as though there are bubbles in your throat, and you have to cough them away when they're accompanied by a familiar rush of heat to your face.

it's all overpowered. strongly, by the rich taste of cinnamon. rich, sweet, distinctly festive, mixed with brown sugar and cookie batter; flour on the matching aprons satoru bought for the two of you, except the 'he' on 'he cooks' has been messily crossed out and replaced with a scribble that says 'she', and vice versa. it's on his tongue, his lips, the little dips on the corner of his mouth that makes him look like a kitten every time he grins. it tastes like wearing matching christmas sweaters, sampling sweet treats fresh out of the oven and laughing cheerily in your little cozy kitchen of warmth when he burns his tongue, a sour look on his face that wrinkles his nosebridge.

but, most importantly, it tastes like condemnation.

you sit up, briefly (and painfully) knocking foreheads with him when he's too slow to mirror your actions, but the complaint that's ready to stain the air like chimney soot dies on his tongue when he sees the look on your face. you look the same as you did the first time you found out he'd forgotten to pick up megumi and tsumiki from school. in other words, pissed.

"hey, pretty girl. you should smile; you look less like an ogre when you do—" he hastily starts, laughing nervously as he runs his hands through his messy hair. you've noticed that whenever you neglect to toy with the silky soft strands when you're tangled with him, whether it be kissing, cuddling, or... something else, he'll do it afterward as if to emulate the feeling of your fingers in his hair, even if it 'screws it up'. apparently, his skyscraper ego is too fragile to ask for headscratches.

"just a minute, satoru." you cut him off through gritted teeth, lips that should be stretched in a wide smile pressed together in frustration. your eyes narrow as you straighten up, sitting back on your ankles. "you ate them, didn't you?" your fingers dig into his skin, pinching his cheek. if his skin wasn't already stained crimson with boyish excitement, it would be an angry red now. you give killer pinches; he knows firsthand.

which is why he should've thought ahead and listened to the angel on his shoulder when you were knocked out earlier, curled up in a fluffy blanket on the couch, snoozing away. what was he to do? the cookies you'd made were calling his name. and it was for his birthday, and they were made for him. so why couldn't he indulge?

this was why.

and you know you've pinned him with your accusation like a throwing dart on a cork board; the way his gaze bounces around the room and his smile turns a hint sheepish and a handful guilty speaks volumes enough before he can even protest. but he can feel your wrath like an entire mine's worth of coal in his stockings, so he quickly throws his hands up, shimmying away from your angry pinch. the sheets bunch beneath him.

"listen, sweets, i just thought that— well, i'm sorry, baby, they just looked so good. and i only ate a few! i swear." satoru says solemnly, getting on his knees and throwing himself before you. he knows you're unamused— sitting there, crosslegged, looking down at him as if he's some chewed up gum you found on the bottom of your shoe. he might as well be. blueberry flavored, maybe? or mint, he's fine with that too—

"so you did." you just sigh, flicking his hunched shoulders, before you go soft again, and he sees pink. you reach forward, fingers creeping beneath his chin to tilt his face up. his skin is soft and warm beneath your skin, thrumming with a life and heat the poor overworked radiator in your room could never measure up to. and when he does look up, his starstruck gaze meets your own; you look ethereal in the warm light, and he wonders why he hasn't put a ring on your finger or started a family with you yet. maybe that can be the last gift to top off the cake of your overflowing knitted stocking, hanging from the kitchen counter; a mahogany box with golden hinges who's shine pales in comparison to the diamond ring in the center of the velvet.

he tucks the idea into his mental notes and grins, a cheeky flash of teeth. "so you forgive me, right?"

wrong. he should know better than to push his luck. especially when it comes to you.

the hand beneath his chin creeps up his face to squeeze his cheeks together, forcing his lips to pucker like a fish out of water as he tries to escape to no avail. you glare down at him, all needles. not at all in the holiday spirit, if you ask him. his face is squishy as a pillow beneath your fingers, and a smile resurfaces on your lips after a long struggle to keep it submerged.

he opens his mouth, no doubt to wail like a newborn, and you quickly withdraw, knowing better than to continue your assault. "geez! okay, fine. sorry. i ate them, you grinch." he grumbles, rubbing his squished cheek as he pouts and looks away, shrinking in on himself. his shirt is bundled beneath his arms, slipping off one of his shoulders to expose a pleasant flush on his neck. "seriously! you're such a killjoy. there's no fun in waiting," he smiles mischievously, wiggling his toes and nudging you with his foot. the fabric of his fuzzy reindeer socks bumps against your thigh, and you make another face at the red pom poms on the crudely-knit rudolph face.

"apologize." you emphasize each syllable, letting them fall off your tongue. they jut into his side like blows to his ribs; he falls back onto the bed for extra dramatics, letting it squeak beneath his weight.

"oh, the horror! to think that i'd be reduced to such a state—"

"satoru."

"—that i, head of the gojo clan, the honored one—”

"satoru gojo."

"should be forced to bow to such pious customs at the foot of scrooge—"

"gojo!"

you reach over to threateningly pinch him again, and he rolls away, tossing a fuzzy pillow into the air and kicking it at you like he's playing some cursed form of tennis. you scowl, catching the cushion and tossing it back at him. it lands square on his face, and he whines, crying about how you've ruined his beautiful, youthfully full, gorgeous face; how is he ever going to pretend to be santa and let pretty girls sit on his lap now? —and that one earns him another pinch to his arm.

"okay, okay! i'm sorry, my love. you're not the grinch, or scrooge, and i shouldn'tve eaten the cookies." he sighs, excruciatingly slow as he inches towards you again, wary of but wanting your warmth all the same. it's too cold to be alone this morning, anyway.

"without me." you corrected, unable to wipe the light grin from your face, and you watch as his face lights up, like a kid seeing his dream christmas present in the window display of a bright shop, hidden behind frosted glass and cold air.

he sits up again, scooting close and opening his arms once more. this time, you oblige, throwing yourself onto him and wrapping your arms around his neck. now he’s the one with his back flush against the mattress, soft as a cloud of cotton candy. he laughs, and it rumbles through his chest when his hands find the back of your head and he tucks your head beneath his chin, cradling your neck.

"without—" punctuated with a kiss to the top of your head, "you." satoru finishes, and you can hear the grin in his voice, cheery as a christmas carole. his arms snake around your waist, squeezing lightly as one hand slips beneath the hem of your shirt to gently rub your back. his fingers against your skin feels like the touch of a butterfly, wings like stained glass.

"how about this, pretty? we can make more together." he suggests, resting his chin on top of your head. you're smushed into his chest, the printed material of his christmas light t-shirt scratching your face, and the only thing you can manage to breathe is the cheap cologne you bought him (you don't understand why he uses it when he could afford the best of his own), but suddenly you can't bring yourself to mind. so you nod, and he chuckles.

"d'ya still wanna do cinnamon?" he asks softly, slipping his free hand into your hair to play with the strands, holding you close and cozy in his embrace. the burning heat of friction between your numb hands or a roaring fireplace don't compare to the warmth he brings you, soft and sweet and painfully human. and you can't really make yourself feel upset at the pretty boy with snow-white hair holding you anymore.

"nah. let's do peanut butter chocolate chip." you hum, muffled, and he laughs, hearty and full, the kind that makes his entire body tremble a little. and you can feel it, so you tilt your head up to peer up at him. there's a stray pine needle in his hair; must've been from your hazardously decorated christmas tree. he looks down at you and smiles, brushing your hair from your eyes and leaning in to kiss your forehead. it’s like a crimson wax stamp sealing his love letter to you.

he cuddles you close, tufts of his soft hair tickling your face like a tacky christmas sweater. "sounds unhealthy. but whatever you want, baby. santa's gonna give you all you ask this year." and this time, he doesn't use the mistletoe as an excuse to brush his lips against yours when you move to pick the pine needle from his hair. he smells like vanilla, swirled like espresso with a hint of cinnamon.

he may have enjoyed his cookies and milk without you, but there's nowhere else he’d rather be— no one else he'd rather share the rest of his time with, be it baking, decorating, or lazy naps in each other’s arms. after all, half the jolliness of the holiday season comes from being with you.

fish analogies went crazy… happy bday gojo !!! my (riaki) stuff. don't repost and/or plagiarize !

[dearmantis]

First Snow

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova /The Darkling x Tidemaker!Reader

Summary: Snow finally falls and you want to enjoy the freezing temperatures at night in peace.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.3k

Authors' Note: Yes, I wrote this because it finally snowed where I live and I really missed it. This is completely plotless and pointless, I won't lie. This is also not edited and English isn't my native language.

You've lost the feeling in your nose, ears, hands and feet twenty minutes ago, but you can't bring yourself to go back inside as you stare up into the sky, snow landing on your face and settling on top of your lashes.

The wish to lay down in the thick, undisturbed layer of snow in front of you is strong but you still remember the last time Aleksander found you buried under a few centimetres of snow, his face red from anger and the freezing temperatures.

"Do you want to freeze to death?" he had asked, voice sharp as a knife as he grabbed you by the collar, quickly pulling you up to your feet before removing the snowflakes sticking to your cloak, scarf and fur hat with quick, light slaps against the fabric and fur.

He has never been able to understand your love for freezing temperatures, for ice and snow, thick cloaks and hot teas, so you decide every year to sneak out during the coldest winter nights, leaving him, comfortable in his ignorance, alone as he works the night away.

You usually make it back inside before he notices your absence, the exceptions being few and far in between, so you don't think he knows just how often you leave him during the night to enjoy the winter in peace.

Of course you wish you could spend the nights with him, surrounded by shadows and frost, but he has simply never been the type to truly get it.

In all honesty, you don't fully get it either. Why snow and ice are what has you in such a trance while almost every other Tidemaker you know feels the happiest around lakes, rivers or the ocean. Closeness to the element you control brings ease to Etheralki, at least most of the time. It's like having a weapon close by that you'd be able to wield blindly if required. Why your favourite weapon is tied to a season is a mystery, however.

Humming quietly you rub your gloved hands together before lifting them up to your lips and blowing hot hair into them, trying to get some feeling back. The metal bench you're sitting on is still ice cold and refuses to truly warm up, instead sucking the heat out of your thighs, but it's also the only place where you can sit, and it's still too early to go back inside. The first heavy snowfall of the season deserves to be appreciated.

Thick clouds are sitting in the sky, covering the stars and blocking the light of the moon, drowning the surroundings of the Little Palace in darkness, the only light source being the small lantern you carried outside with you, housing a big, white candle, proudly burning with all it's might inside of the protective metal and glass box.

It's peaceful, so peaceful in fact that you don't even notice it when somebody approaches, stuck too deep in your own thoughts to realise what's going on until the person sits down next to you and holds a steaming cup under your face. Your head whips to the side, hands moving together in case you have to defend yourself, when you finally recognize the huge black fur coat next to you.

"Sasha" you huff, fingers wrapping around the hot cup, the warmth stinging as feeling returns slowly to your hands.

"I woke up because I got cold" he confesses, a small, bashful smile visible on his lips. "And you weren't next to me, so I looked out the window to see if I could find you out here."

You're sitting on the bench closest to your shared quarters, directly visible from the windows. As cheesy and stupid as it might sound, the closeness to Aleksander brings you a similar feeling of safety and peace as the snow. Staying too far away from him, especially when you're both vulnerable, easy targets – him being asleep and you being stuck daydreaming – is almost uncomfortable.

Taking a small sip from the tea he has brought you sigh softly, leaning your head against his shoulder. The dark fur of his coat tickles a bit against your skin as you respond.

"I'm sorry, Sasha. I just wanted to get outside and enjoy the fresh snow. I completely forgot that you could wake up."

Aleksanders sleep has always been notoriously light, waking up at the slightest of sounds, change of lighting or shift in temperature. All things considered it is quite a miracle that you got to spend those previous thirty minutes undisturbed. Usually you choose to sneak out while he isn't in the palace or while he's working the night away in the war room, but tonight you simply couldn't help yourself.

He shakes his head, lifting his own cup to his lips to drink a few sips before he speaks. "Don't worry about it, milaya. I should've expected this. You've spent the whole day staring at the falling snow outside. I just assumed you wouldn't dare to leave while I slept next to you. You usually only disappear when I work."

There's a thick layer of amusement audible in his voice and it warms your heart better than any cloak or fur ever could.

"So you knew?" you ask surprised, lifting your head from his shoulder to look at him. "But you always get so mad when you catch me. I don't understand-"

"Let an old man have his fun, milaya." Aleksander cuts you off, hand moving to your shoulder to press you back against him. "Of course I notice it when you sneak out. And I come and get you when you stay out for too long. It's cute that you thought I wouldn't notice it, though. Especially considering that I always have a Heartrender around to stand guard."

You groan loudly, taking another long sip of the tea before burying your face in the Darklings thick fur coat again. It smells nice, like rosemary and burning wood, with an underlying note of something sweet. Aleksanders own smell that you've never been able to fully identify.

"So Maksim betrayed me." you murmur into the coat, taking another deep breath to take in more of the smell. Sweet berry jam, maybe?

He laughs loudly, his body shaking with the sound as he leans his head against yours. "Betrayed? He is doing his job, don't be too hard on him."

His hand rubs your back carefully and you can hear him taking a big sip from his own tea.

You sit like this for a few minutes, occasionally taking a sip from your teas, enjoying the darkness and snow. When your cup is empty you place it on the ground in front of you before you stand up to quickly sit down on his lap, hands moving inside his coat to lay flat against his back, soaking in the warmth his body gives off.

Pressing yourself tightly against him he moves to rest his chin on your head as a laugh rumbles through his body. "Are you getting cold, milaya?" he purrs, placing his own cup next to you on the bench to free his hands and hug you freely.

"I just want to be closer to you for a bit." you answer softly. His thighs are so much warmer than the cold bench, his whole body radiating heat like a fire.

"You could be even closer to me if we went back inside." Aleksander whispers back.

"I don't want to go back inside yet. The Squallers are gonna remove the snow in the morning. I want to enjoy this as long as I can."

"Maybe, but we will freeze to death together."

"We will freeze to death by then."

You giggle quietly.

[drifting-pieces-blog-blog]

Moon's Light

Summary: Moon Knight comics universe: After everything they've been through, the hardest war has always been of the past. First Night of Hanukkah shouldn't be this hard.

Pairings: Gen fic

Warnings: Briefest of mentions of anti-semitism.

Word Count: 1,242

------

It was never that big of a deal. 

He knew the stories and had tried to grasp the concepts and history behind the holiday. 

It just wasn’t a high holiday. His father had waved a hand away as he continued to study and prepare for other things. 

Young Marc Spector had watched his father do his public duties. It was all a show, wasn’t it? Competition with more prominent holidays that he had no part of, but was still expected to observe somehow. 

Blue and white decorations that mimicked the green and red garlands. Stars getting lost in the snowflake designs. Twinkling light on houses that shown brighter and longer till they made those little lights in the window mean so little. 

Stepping out of his little sheltered street to the bigger and wider world and his little ‘hat’ had been knocked off his head more time than he can remember. 

It all only added to his anger. Anger that fueled his violent blood. It was easy enough to forget things when he left. There was no day of rest when getting shot at. There was no fasting when the energy was needed to battle some villain or army. Kosher was a laugh when he was crawling through the desert eating anything he was given. 

It was a choice at first, being the man out as he refused things or muttered prayers to himself, then it was rejection as he turned face up to the sky as he ate, as he worked, as he started his first campfire to stay warm. 

Did that make it more prominent? Telling the world ‘I am doing this despite you’ was still acknowledging that ‘you’ existed. 

In time, he gave it all up. He was Marc Spector Mercenary. Marc Spector a man without a home. A man who moved from place to place because he was unwanted, unwelcome, and hated. 

And in the end, did this not make things even closer to who he didn’t want to be? 

Give it to Jake. 

It had taken him a long time to get Jake to talk to him. The rejection had been mutual. Or perhaps, Jake had simply been waiting for him. Jake settled into comfort and pleasure. He kept the fire kindled and did what he could without forcing them back into something that would hurt too much. He watched friends fade away and even old enemies disappear with a sense of something part of himself falling away with them. 

The years filled up with pain and it was getting harder and harder to cope with memories of who he was supposed to be. 

Give it to Steven

Steven took it. He judged the past and did his best to be the better man. Charity to make up for Marc’s mistakes. Or so he claimed. He struggled to make the life make sense. So little of it made sense. So much of it was filled with ghosts of what was supposed to happen. Notions of something he was supposed to do. A sense of something in his blood that filled him with a great sense of unrest. 

Now, after so much and so much chaos that dug around in his heart, they all slowly took a deep breath. 

Marc, for it was always Marc, stared down the offender with such concentration that perhaps it would fade away if he focused hard enough. 

Time had changed, but things had not. The things that had made the boy Marc so angry were still there. His brother was dead, angrier than even he had been. His mother long gone, never knowing the real Marc. His father was gone, taking with him any chance of reconciliation. 

There was still hate. There was still blame. There was still all the things that had hurt them. The only difference was time. 

Time for him to search his soul and know himself. Time for him to make peace with Jake and Steven. Time for him to understand his position as Moon Knight. 

Sun’s going down. Jake prodded.

It wasn’t a big deal. It wasn’t a big holiday. 

So why was it so hard? Why did it suddenly mean so much right now to him? 

Let me do it. Jake reached for the matches but Marc turned away, moving their hands to his hips as he took another slow breath. 

We don’t have to do it. How is it any different from all the other years we ignored it? Steven shrugged, acting indifferent though Marc could feel the sway of his heart. 

“We have to.” Marc gritted his teeth. 

Why? Jake and Steven asked. Why do they have to? Why does Marc have to be the one? Jake would happily carry on. Steven knew the ritual. It was so organized the way he liked it. 

“Because I exist.” Marc looked out the window. “Because I’m still here. Despite it all… I’m still here.” 

He took the match book and tore off a stick. It was far from the long and beautiful matchsticks his father had used, but this felt so much more representative of Marc Spector. 

He struck once and almost seemed surprised to see himself suddenly holding the small flame, feeling the heat and lighting the room. 

He lit the candle, small as it was. It was not the Hanukkiah of his childhood. It had come in a little box boasting “full menorah kit” in big block letters. Simple and silver, it still stood sturdy. 

A shaking hand picked up the small helper candle. 

“We are still here.” Jake stepped in and took a moment to look at the candle before he moved it to the fist candle on the right. He held the light to the small wick and made sure it was properly lit before he set the candle back in place. 

Steven pulled the memory up from so long ago. He had looked it up earlier the moment he had seen the kit in Marc’s hand. Ever prepared, he had made sure the words were still there. 

He needn’t have worried. Some memories never faded. Some words lingered as if they were tattooed across his heart. 

Maybe his tongue was a little slower and maybe his voice was a little softer, but still the tune carried. 

Three prayers for the first day. Three souls welcoming in the light. 

The song followed and Jake carried it as if it were a joyful tune he’d just heard yesterday in the bar. 

When all was done, they sat in the light, watching the candles drip and burn down. The smallest menorah in the window of the Midnight Mission. 

Outside, someone stopped and gazed at the window. Marc pulled his mask down back into place. 

This was Moon Knight’s neighborhood, Moon Knight’s mission, Moon Knight’s protected people, and this was Moon Knight’s light. 

The person was a teen, hands in pockets and head down. He gazed at the menorah for a moment then looked up to the man in the white suit. 

“Chag chanuka sameach.” The teen gave a small wave. 

He licked his cracked lips, wondering if the words would hurt. “Chag chanuka sameach.” They came easily and he smiled as a relief washed over him that threatened to overwhelm him. Not because he still knew them, but for reasons he couldn’t explain. 

Moon Knight turned to open the door. The Midnight Mission was open. Now, more than ever, he had something to protect. 

[triplesilverstar]

Pouring the cup of coffee as you and Vash stood in the kitchen after a day of Decorating the apartment and somehow both ended up covered in glitter from the snowflakes on the tree. "Honestly we look like we work as strippers with the amount of glitter on our faces." You giggled as you took a sip, looking down and seeing a few sparkles on the rim.

"Nah, you'd be the showgirl and I'd be the stripper." Sending you a wink as the blond took a sip of his coffee and leaning back against the counter. 

"I think that's the other way around handsome." Shaking your head in response to his words and teasing tone before looking back to the living room, a string of lights hanging across the patio door so it could still be slid open and a person could step under it to get outside. If Nicholas’s path was disrupted when he wanted his cigarettes you and Vash would be in for an annoyed partner and possibly lights thrown to the ground not in spite but from his rush to get outside once more.

“Think Nico had fun with the kids tonight?” Taking another drink as your eyes shift about the room before landing on the small Christmas tree in the corner. The three of you had discussed it and the idea of having a small tree to enjoy had made each of you smile in turn. 

“I bet!” A laugh rang out around the room from the blond with enough force you could see his shoulders shaking. “He loves dressing up as jolly old Saint Nick for the kids this time of year.” A familiar look of wistful reminisce on his face as you can just imagine what Vash is thinking about, and as his blue eyes settle on you a tilt of his pointed chin that makes your heart do silly little flips in your chest. “The kids have an easy time figuring out it’s Nico, but the younger ones all buy that he’s just helping Santa out. The older kids help too in trying to make it as magical as they can, they can remember what it was like being little like that.” 

A thoughtful hum and you take another sip of coffee, parting your lips to ask a question only to hear the apartment door open. “Nico! We’re in the kitchen!” Calling out to him and turning to pour the dark-haired man a coffee for when he rejoins you.

“Did you have fun toni- Oh. Oh my.” The shift in Vash’s tone has you halting your actions and turning at the waist. Feeling your eyes go wide as your mind blanked at the sight in front of you. 

Nicholas.

Was still in his Santa suit.

The large black boots with the carefully tucked red pants, and a big red hat with a stark band of fluffy white placed upon his ebony locks. What had your attention, and no doubt Vash’s, was the jacket. 

Nice and red with its lovely white fluffy trim like clouds. That was held in place by a large black belt with a golden buckle. Perfectly covering his naval, and like a beacon leading your eyes to follow the start of a beautiful swath of tan skin that grew the higher you went. Almost his entire chest was on display and you felt as if you involuntarily swallowed, a slow measured blinking as you just kept staring.

“Umm Nico?” Somehow Vash is able to verbalize and you can see a smirk growing on Nicholas’s face, clearly, the third portion of your relationship planned this little reveal, and the idea of him thinking his teasing had left you both in the proverbial gutter wasn’t sitting right with you. 

Cup placed on the counter behind you and your senses returning you put on your best fake breathy voice. “Oh Santa! I wasn’t expecting you so soon!” A snap of Vash’s neck towards you with a wink sent in his direction as you started sashying towards Nicholas. “I’ve only been a naughty little girl this year.” 

Trying to keep your face neutral as it was your turn to see Nicholas’s adam’s apple bob no doubt taking in the cut of your clothes and how you weren’t looking at him like a gaping fool. Placing your hand on the side of his neck and sensually trailing your finger down the center of his chest, and feeling the hairs of his chest beneath the pad of the digit. “Maybe there’s something I can do so you don’t shove some coal down my stocking?” Pretending to whisper against his ear but never letting your voice go lower before nipping his earlobe. 

“This suits a rental Little bear but I need it off. Right. Now.” 

“Well if that’s what Saint Nicholas wants, I guess he can unwrap his presents tonight~” 

And here's the art

[theemporium]

[1k] new challenges, old traditions becoming new and james potter spending christmas eve with his girl.

.

It had been a tradition in your family for years. 

Every year without fail, the local Christmas Market would have an ice rink set up in the main town square for adults and kids alike to enjoy. But it wouldn’t be until Christmas Eve where your family would bundle up in thick layers and woolly hats as you made your way to the local ice rink to complete the family tradition of skating, shared hot chocolates and late night walks through the lit-up streets. 

And this year was no different, except for the fact you had another person joining you this year. 

Your boyfriend. 

“I’m an athlete, baby,” James had boasted earlier that morning as you wrapped up in some warm, thick coats and cosy scarfs. “How hard can ice skating be?” 

“You ride a broom,” you countered, though thoroughly amused by his confidence. “This is different.” 

“Exactly, I have brilliant balance!” he grinned as his gloved hands reached for your face, pulling you into a sweet kiss. “It’ll be easy.” 

“Ever so humble,” you commented, pulling away to reach for your own gloves that were lying on the table. 

“Just you wait, your parents are gonna be so impressed with me,” James said with his chest puffed out. “They are gonna love me!” 

James, for all intents and purposes, was no better on the ice than a baby deer walking on solid ground for the first time.

“You’re like Bambi!” 

“Shut up.” 

“It’s cute!” 

“Please, darling, I already have so little dignity left.” 

You couldn’t hold back the snort that left your lips as you glided towards him with an ease he was envious of. You reached your hand out, a tempting offer if it weren’t for the fact he would have to let go of the railings to take it. 

James narrowed his eyes. “Not a chance.” 

“Don’t you trust me?” you retorted with raised brows. 

“I don’t trust a single bloody thing right now!” 

You rolled your eyes at your boyfriend’s theatrics, skating closer until you were resting by the wall beside him. Your eyes took in the sight of him: the curls escaping under the brim of his woollen hat, the tip of nose red from the cold and small snowflakes melting into his tanned skin he somehow managed to keep despite the lack of sun during the last few weeks. 

“C’mon, I won’t let anything happen to you,” you said as you rested one hand over his, gently trying to pry his hand off. 

“That sounds like a fucking lie,” James grumbled but he didn’t resist as you took each one of his hands in your own, slowly pulling away from the edge. “Muggles are insane. This is insane.” 

“James, honey, you ride a broomstick at high speeds, dodge balls flying at you from all directions and shove each other hundreds of feet in the air—ice skating is hardly the threat you’re making it tobe,” you said with a laugh, slowly making your way around the rink despite the muggles around you zooming past. “Plus it’s hardly just a muggle sport, there are plenty of witches and wizards who ice skate.”

“Bloody fools, then,” James huffed out, letting out a small noise of surprise when you started to speed up a little. 

Despite all his huffing and whining, the confidence from this morning quickly returned and thus, James being James fucking Potter let his ego get the best of him. 

“Are you sure you don’t wanna hold my hand?” you asked as you eyed him, just a little out of arm's length from him.

“Don’t phrase it like that, love,” James shot you a look, almost as though he was offended at the prospect of not holding your hand. Merlin knew this boy was one of the clingiest you could get (in the best way possible, of course). “I’m just proving I can do it myself.” 

“If you say so,” you hummed, gliding ahead before you spun back to look at him. 

“Like I said, I’m an athlete-–shit!” 

Your lips parted with a sudden gasp as you watched the boy fall to the floor, his hands darting out in an attempt to break his fall. You watched as he let out a soft groan, a string of curses and muttered words whispered under his breath before he lifted his head.

“Are you okay?” The words were a little breathy as you slowly sunk to your knees before him, reaching out to gently cup his cheek, your eyes searching to see if he had hit his face off the ice or not. 

“I hate this,” he murmured to you, looking heavily defeated. 

“Who would’ve thought ice skating was the one thing James Potter couldn’t do?” you teased as he nuzzled his face into the palm of your hand. “My poor over-achieving baby boy.” 

His eyes narrowed. “This is cruel.” 

“I promise I won’t tell Sirius,” you said before offering your hand to pull him back onto his feet. 

After that, James had refused to let go of your hand, even once you had made your way to the exit and slipped off your ice skates. Even on the journey back to your house to enjoy a homemade dinner, he never let go of your hand. And even when you had settled onto the couch in the living room with the rest of your family, James refused to let go of your hand. 

“You know, we aren’t on the ice anymore,” you murmured to him as some classic muggle Christmas film played in the background. “You can let go of my hand.” 

“No.” 

You shot him an amused look. “James–”

“Nope, bad things happen when I let go of your hand so I am not going to let go of your hand,” he stated bluntly. “It’s simple logic really.” 

You let out a snort. “You’re always so dramatic.” 

James rolled his eyes. “I am being reasonable.” 

“Did you enjoy Christmas Eve otherwise?” you asked him honestly, eyes softening a little as you shifted to look at him. “Minus the humiliating ice skating?” 

James’ lips twitched. “I would go ice skating with you a million more times if it means I’m with you.” 

Your eyes gleamed. “Really?” 

“Really, baby,” he murmured and leaned in to press a kiss to the crown of your head. “Merry Christmas, love.” 

“Merry Christmas, James.”

.

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Scream - A present - Door.16

warning : kiss, fluff, some smutish things

The calendar

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

Charlie knew three things from horror movies and how to make fake blood and leave reviews on the internet and that was it.

Now maybe how to be there for his girlfriend but maybe that was it. But he knew that the upcoming Christmas season was her favorite time of year.

She supported him as much as she could during Halloween, sewing costumes, helping with the decorations and, above all, baking cookies in the shape of little tombstones for which he always gave her kisses. He pulled her into his arms and gave her everything she wanted physically and emotionally.

Until the months went by and it became winter. Winter in the city meant that everyone was buying presents like crazy, milk, chocolate, candy canes, cookies, pillows, blankets, Christmas trees and so on.

All the people were buying like crazy, the crazy ones in his favorite horror store all empty and this fact Charlie had to realize himself when he drove into all the stores in town and found nothing but emptiness. It was as if Michael Myers had not killed all the inhabitants but had killed everything empty.

He was as desperate as a bad joke. And he knew that the more time passed, the more he looked at his watch and the messages on his cell phone, the more he knew time was running out.

What kind of boyfriend doesn't have a gift for his love? he thought as he continued to walk through the streets of the city, the thick snowflakes coming down on him and his bobble hat already white.

He looked around feverishly - there had to be something. But all the sweet, typical Christmas presents were gone. Until he saw it.

In the window of a small decoration store, it seemed to be the last thing they had. A long red dress with dark reddish embroidered sequins and a plunging neckline, it was perfect.

Rushing into the store and arguing with the salesman, the brown-haired man had the gift in his hand about an hour later. Although he had to pay almost double the price, he was happy with his heart. Now he just had to wrap it. That should be easy.

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

Her gaze was on the clock, it was only a few more minutes before she could disappear from her shift in the coffee. If it wasn't the height of summer and everyone wanted an iced coffee, then in winter it was the double chocolate coffee with colorful green and red sprinkles on the white cream with the snowflake cookie. It was terrible.

As she handed the mixture to the woman in front of her, she heard the voice of her colleague murmuring for her to leave. ,,You still have a magical meeting, don't you?" she asked, knowing she was referring to Charlie's Christmas dinner.

,,Yeah, I just hope he didn't set fire to the apartment," she replied with a wink before taking off her apron and disappearing into the changing room. Saying goodbye to her colleagues, she hurried home.

She had only seen her darling this morning and gave him a hasty kiss and had to get to work, but she hadn't forgotten his sweet look and the promise that everything would be perfect.

Which is why she was all the more excited when she opened the door with the keys to their apartment. ,,I'm home Charlie!" she called into the apartment and took off her coat, but the sweet smell hit her as soon as she walked in.

She saw the many candles he had lit, the small Christmas tree in the corner hung with baubles in the shape of knives and movie posters, a collection he was proud of.

On the small dining table were bowls of cookies and candy canes and when she tasted one she knew he had made it himself. Sweet with a jam filling You're the best at these she thought and went on wondering if he would scare her or if he was still buying something.

Deciding to get out of her clothes first and put on something comfortable, she opened the door to the bedroom and banged the door against something. Only a second later she heard an ouch that she knew could only be Charlie.

,,Charlie! Did I hurt you?" she asked, looking down at her friend who was in a very strange position, bringing questions to her mind. ,,What did you do?" she asked, raising an eyebrow when she saw that the cutie had somehow managed to wrap himself in gift wrap so that he had tied himself up.

,,I-I don't know, please?" said the one lying on the floor, trying to free himself, his hair slightly disheveled and she saw the blush on his cheeks.

Surely they had been in a situation where they had done this on purpose but it hadn't usually ended with him lying on the floor and her hitting him with the door.

,,Oh, does my sweetie need help?" she asked playfully teasingly and knelt down to him, her fingers running over the red gift ribbon as she watched him try to get free.

,,Yes...please," he said, making a relieved noise when she finally released him, his hand moving to hers and he gave her a grateful kiss before hurrying to the bed and saying, ,,Close your eyes" before she complied with his request.

She heard the rustle of fabric before she felt something soft in her hands. ,,Charlie... this is beautiful," she said, running her hands over the fabric, examining the embroidery and holding it against her body.

,,You look wonderful," the brown-haired man praised and put his hands around her hips, slowly pulling her into another kiss. ,,I'll be happy to help you wrap up next time," she murmured to him and placed the dress on the bed before pushing him towards the mattress.

She saw the flush on his cheeks increase as she moved her hands to her top. ,,Shall I try it on?" she asked and saw her boyfriend, who was completely fixated on her, nod. There must have been more than one present this Christmas that warmed them both.

Because it was their shared love when they felt his lips on her body and their clothes lay scattered on the bed, the cold didn't seem to bother them, they were both far too busy loving each other.

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

[greetingfromthedead]

Festivities (Vash x Reader)

🎄🎄 Merry Vashmas and Happy WooWoodays! 🎄🎄

Plot: On the winter solstice your community has its own traditions and this year you spend them with Vash. Also Vash has cuteness aggression.

Series: Tempest Wind, but made to work as a oneshot

Pairing: Vash x Reader

Raiting: For Everyone

Tags: AU, Established Relationship, Fluff, Ice Skating, Holidays, Festivities, Cozy, I Have Never Been Good At Tagging Stuff

Word count: 2.1k

Author's Note: This is a slightly modified chapter from my upcoming fic "Tempest Winds". On that note I am looking for beta readers / proofreaders so if you are interested, hmu!

The snowflakes fall gently onto your face as you look up towards the snow covered tree branches. A path carved into the snow leads along the river, the fast current has kept it from freezing. The melody of the stream draws your attention and you stumble on the uneven trail, arms shooting out to find balance, but you have nothing to worry about as a strong hand grabs you under your arm before you land in the white powder.

"Careful now, love!" his voice is amused, "Are you really going to fall over before we even get to the ice?"

You get your feet underneath yourself again and turn around to shoot him a disapproving stare. As expected you first see the huge zipped up red coat and when you look up you see him peering down at you from between the layers of fluffy scarf. The pompom on his hat jiggles as he laughs at your expression.

"Why do you always feel the need to make fun of me?" you try to sound serious and look stern.

Vash bows closer, one hand holding the bag over his shoulder. He is eye level with you now and you see the happy glint in the deep blue eyes, his lips in a wide smile.

"Because it's easy and I adore your expressions!" he says proudly and you roll your eyes. You know you'd do the same if the opportunity arises. You enjoy teasing him just as much as he loves teasing you. He pecks a quick kiss on your lips, only barely missing the scarves around both of you. Your gloved hands grab the front of his coat and pull him closer to give him a proper kiss before turning around again and continuing on along the path. The kiss freezes Vash into place for a second, still bent forward, he stares at you leaving before hurrying after.

Soon you see the main road ahead, lit up by many candles leading down the slope to the big lake, the trees on either side so dense that you could almost forget it's still light outside. As you get off your little path you see a few more people, some coming up the incline, still out of breath and cheeks rosy, their skates dangling from their bags. Others are heading down just like you are to enjoy the views and a festive day. As you get to the candlelit road you stop and wait for Vash to put down the bag. You rummage through it and take the two candles you've brought handing one to Vash. He smiles warmly and waits for you to close the bag again and light your wick with the flame of the closest candle. You turn towards the man and hold out your candle at a slight angle so he has it easier to light his flame with yours.

"I wish you happiness and patience. I hope you have a magical season and a new year that is peaceful and kind to you." the smile on your face makes his heart flutter as you say those words, passing on your wishes to him.

Vash looks at his candle for a moment before making a little spot for it in the snow and placing it down.

"I wish love and happiness, like the kind I feel every day, to whoever gets my flame. I hope their heart will be light and worries will be but a distant memory." Vash leaves his words with his candle as you put yours down next to his.

"Let's go!" you grab his hand, waiting for him to follow you. He quickly throws the bag over his shoulder and squeezes your hand as you start running down the slope, you see people who are lighting their candles and handing down their well wishes. You get around the bend in the road and see the two large spruce trees towering on either side of the path, they are decorated from top to bottom in crystals. An ancient tradition passed down by generations since the colonizing ships first arrived. Some of the crystals are emitting a dim glow that's barely visible in the daylight, others reflecting the light from the sun. Some are round, others are sharp, there are both ores and polished stones, the light dusting of snow shimmering as the path opens up to the enormous lake surrounded by cliffs and mountains on the opposite side. The long and narrow shape has allowed for the snow to be blown away by wind, leaving smooth blue ice behind. 

You drag Vash to a free bench and start pushing your boots off before he even gets around to handing you your skates. He smiles at your excitement as you pull on the skates and start to tie them up. Vash follows your lead knowing full well how you will become if you have to wait for him to be ready, he doesn't feel like being called a slowpoke by you again as you shake with excitement. In the end it's him patiently waiting for you as you meticulously get yourself ready so you can enjoy what's next. You put all you things in the bag that Vash takes to carrying once again. He helps you up from the bench and hand in hand you go to the ice, carefully passing the young children and beginners still finding their balance. Once out in the open you get to speed up.

You skate along the coast for a bit looking for a perfect spot to leave the bag. Carefully you hang it on a tree branch making sure to remember the surrounding and off you go. Pushing yourself to go faster and faster, Vash realizes immediately what you are doing - trying to race him to the other side of the lake, of course you cheated by starting early, but it doesn't matter, he still catches up and passes you, haven gotten a bit ahead he turns around. Laughing at you as he tauntingly skates backwards. You still try to catch up to him, but sadly there's no competition, your only hope was to get a head start. Better luck next time, you'll let him hang up the bag and start booking it as soon as he turns his back on you.

As you clearly lost, you shake your head and slow your pace, changing trajectory to be along the beach again. You look at the dark green forest covering the gentle mountain slopes, the stony cliffs bare from most vegetation. Here and there you see little houses, but you know most are hidden well. As you leisurely watch around, Vash skates circles around you. He has unzipped his coat that's now flapping in the air currents, as he laps you over and over. He keeps looking at you with a gentle smile, like you're the most beautiful view here. His cheeks are red both from the cold air and the slight blush as he thinks just how dear you are to him.

It is already getting dark after barely just getting here as this festive day is held on the solstice when the night is the longest, from here it will get lighter again as spring inches its way closer. That's why everyone here gathers together, the usually so reclusive people of your community have formed traditions, to show each other just how close you really are, that nobody is alone and everyone wishes their neighbor well. It's an amalgam of new customs formed over the decades spent here on this planet and very old ones brought here from Earth.

The sun disappears behind the mountains and as twilight settles in, lights start to appear in the forest and on the cliffs. Vash slows down and takes your hand. Together you glide over the ice watching your surroundings come to life as people light lanterns in their windows revealing the hundreds of houses dotted around the lakeside.

"I'm so glad I get to spend this day with you." Vash's voice speaks up next to you and when you look over you see his eyes on you. As you slow to a stop you turn to face him. You pull off your gloves stuffing them into a pocket and cover his freezing cold cheeks with your warm hands. His cover yours as to avoid you getting frosty.

"I'm glad I get to spend every day with you." you smile, "You fill them with so much happiness."

"I love you." his soft eyes looking into yours as he speaks the simple words that make your heart jump every time you hear them.

"I love you too. Getting to build a home together with you means the world to me." you think of the cozy house that awaits you, all year you've worked on turning it into your personal paradise, the building you grew up in is now more than just that, it's an actual home.

Vash bows down, his hands letting go of yours and instead wrapping around you. He kisses you slowly and tenderly. Your hands slide to be around his neck, pulling him close as your lips move together deeply and lovingly. His arms hold you against him tight, your body keeping him warm. Suddenly he straightens out, pulling you up with him, your skates no longer touching the ice. He breaks the kiss to push his cold nose  against your neck, making you instinctively flinch. He pushes against the ice and you find he is spinning you around. Letting out a squeal you hold on tighter.

"I love you. I love you. I love you." he almost shouts into your scarf, as he overflows with excitement, leaving you laughing. He carefully puts you down again, but spins you so he is behind you, wrapping his arms around you once more and putting his cheek on your shoulder to look at your smiling face. You look back at him knowing there is never a dull moment with him around. You put on your gloves again before taking his hand.

"Shall we go? We still have a light to hang up in our window." you ask him.

"Yes, Sweet Pea, let's go home." he pushes his cold cheek to your ear. "I need you to warm me up again."

You laugh and push yourself off, his hand in yours as you go back to where you left the bag to pick it up and you make your way to the entrance where even more candles have been lit, the trail of them leading onto the ice now. The giant spruces in full effect looking like they have been sprinkled with stardust. You take a last look around, the lights from the mountains and the stars in the sky almost blending into one, reminding you where you come from.

Before you head home you go to one of the decorated trees, Vash standing behind you as you take off your red knitted scarf. You tie it to one of the branches, among the number of other colorful scarves. Vash's hands are on yours as you form the knot and you let out a content sigh.

"May our ancestors watch over us, may we carry on." you let the scarf slip out of your hand and for a moment Vash still holds you, giving your fingers a light squeeze and then stepping back to offer you his hand. Together you go home again, the candles with everyone's happy wishes lighting up the dark night. Even the path along the river has a few candles , but the moonlight creeping in from between the branches and bouncing off the snow is enough to guide you.

You get to your little wooden house by the river, it feels so warm and welcoming because you know you can spend your days there with the man you love. Vash gets started on the fireplace and you make sure there's hot chocolate ready for him. As the room is lit up you bring the lantern that's been waiting for your return. With a long stick Vash brings over a small flame from the fireplace and lights the candle in the lantern as you hold open its door. Together you hang up the guiding light on your window facing the lake. You doubt anyone is able to see it though the forest, but it doesn't matter, it's the thought that counts.

Together you settle into the couch by the fireplace, surrounded by soft pillows and blankets, you lay your legs over his lap, Vash's arm around your shoulders to keep you close. The fire relieves the ache in your muscles and you feel happiness and bliss.  

Read more Tempest Wind HERE.

Did you like this? Go check out my MASTERLIST and drop a follow for any and all future projects!

[acasualcrossfade]

✏️WIP Weekend✏️

I was tagged by the amazing @sidekick-hero :) Thanks, friend!

In a reblog of this post (so people can find you in the notes) or new thread (w/ rules attached) if you want to play on your own, post up to five (5) filenames of your WIPs; not titles, file names.

Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be words you wrote in the last 7 days. We’re posting progress here. If you haven’t made any, go make some and come back to play!

After you’ve posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write 3 sentences in that file. If the filename is one you can't share from (for example, an event or gift fic), write 3 sentences on it anyway, and then 3 more on another to share.

That’s it! You can invite others to join in, or just post.

Currently working on my summer fic and so I won't share anything from that Steve file, but everything else is up for grabs (looking at you, tinsel fic)! I take my WIPs very unseriously because it takes a few drafts for me to get the feel of a story, but most of these are in a place where I'd like to start finalizing details so I can post them by the end of April (ahh!).

couldve fooled me (steddie microfic draft)

Steve (starts for my summer exchange fic--can't share anything from here)

New Tinsel D2 (Steddie Xmas fic from a challenge that I'm aiming to finish asap so please make me write this one)

Reckless (White Collar fic for Whumpril)

No Time to Rest (Dad!Thor fic for Whumpril)

The peek at my Steddie Xmas fic is under the cut. It's College AU Steddie and it's the last day of finals :)

 Students clambered through the double doors of the dorm and Steve’s eyes immediately kept an eye out for Eddie’s red beanie. It was the only color the man loved to wear, and not only did it look cute against his long curls, but it made him easy to spot. Steve searched among the sea of winter hats as they passed, no familiar red one in sight. 

Steve was about to turn around when something collided with him from behind. He barely caught himself to push the offender off when he caught sight of Eddie’s red beanie.

“Gotcha, Harrington,” Eddie laughed as Steve turned and then hugged him. “It’s good to be a free man.”

“Freedom looks good on you,” Steve replied, stroking Eddie’s cheek.

Eddie’s hair was dotted with snowflakes and his cheeks were red from the chilly wind. Eddie pulled off his beanie and then unzipped and shed his coat, placing it on the back of the chair. Pieces of snow fell off onto the carpeted floor and melted as he shook snow from his curls.  He wore his black denim jeans with a comfortable sweatshirt that Steve recognized as one of his own.

Eddie pressed his cold forehead against Steve’s warm one before brushing his lips against Steve’s.

Steve cupped Eddie’s cheek and kissed him softly and let his lips brush Eddie’s. Eddie pulled him closer to kiss him deeper before breaking off with a smile. 

“So the bio final didn’t kill you like you thought?” Steve asked as he played with the man’s curls, trying not to get lost in Eddie’s chocolate eyes. The stray snowflakes in Eddie’s hair melted against Steve’s fingers. 

“Can’t kill a Munson that easy,” Eddie replied ruefully. “But it was brutal. And to think I had to spend all that time focused on mitosis instead of your pretty face.”

“I have know idea how you survived. And speaking of, here’s the reward for surviving finals in your second year of college.” He handed Eddie the other cup that sat on the table, watching the man’s face lit up as he read the name on the cup. 

Gently tagging: @soaringornithopter, @imfinereallyy, @berenwrites

@wynnyfryd and @sourw0lfs

[thatesqcrush]

Second Chances

Joe Velasco x f! reader. A very belated Secret Santa gift for @plaidbooks. CW: implied smut. Mostly fluff. WC: 2,839.

AN: Thanks @beccabarba for giving it a read through.

AN2: Not sure who to tag for Joe folks. Umm @storiesofsvu @madpanda75 @dreamlover31 @witches-unruly-heart @detective-giggles... anyone else who wants to be tagged for Joe, send me a msg!

The biting, cold wind whipped harshly around Joe Velasco as he waited for the light to change, causing him to shiver. Despite having lived in New York his whole life, he much preferred a warmer climate. Summer was his favorite. He'd dressed in black, with his dark hair, and dark eyes and fashionable stubble, he looked every bit the New Yorker he was. Joe huddled in his peacoat, as if shrinking into himself would garner some warmth.

Just when Joe thought it wouldn't get any worse, delicate snowflakes began to fall from the vast white and gray sky. Plumes of smoke rose steadily from the grates before settling over the icy sidewalks. Joe grumbled and wrapped his scarf tighter around his face. The briefcase Joe had with him suddenly felt heavier than before.

The light changed from green to red and Joe hurried across the street. A dimly lit sign that belonged to a local greasy spoon caught his eye. Instead of heading straight to his destination, Joe decided to make a pit stop to grab a cup of coffee. He hated coffee but he was too cold to care.

As he entered the diner, he noted that it was barely at full capacity, leaving him with many options to sit. Joe took the chance to grab a booth in the back. As he settled in, he signaled a waitress to take his order.

The waitress barely had a chance to greet him before Joe barked out what he wanted. She hurried off, leaving Joe alone once more and with his thoughts. Moments later, a piping cup of black coffee sat in front of him.

As he stirred two spoonfuls of sugar into his coffee, Joe focused on the patrons who were occupying the diner at the moment before being distracted by the jingle of the bell over the diner entrance.

Another gust of wind entered the diner soon followed by the most strikingly beautiful woman Joe had ever laid eyes on. His spoon clattered loudly as it fell from the cup and onto the table. Your skin was slightly tinged pink due to the cold. You had a thick scarf on and a blue knit hat with a giant pom pom on it. An easy smile spread on your face as you shook the snow off.

"My Lord, it's cold out there!"

You had an accent but Joe couldn’t figure out from where. However, Joe found that he could look past the accent. 'It's not like the New York accent is any better.' he thought as he watched you continue to shake the snow off.

"You take a seat anywhere sugar; I'll be with you in a minute," the waitress called out.

"Coffee, cream and sugar, please. I'll be in the back," you had replied in turn to the waitress. The waitress nodded and you made your way to the back, with a large suitcase and bag in tow.

As you walked towards the back you made eye contact with Joe. His dark eyes probed yours and you smiled politely as you walked passed. A cup of coffee was quickly placed on your table and you thanked the waitress. You grabbed the sugar shaker and poured it heavily into your cup.

"That stuff will rot out your stomach," Joe retorted loudly, swearing to himself as he did so.

You turned to him, eyebrow perfectly arched, and pointed at his cup. "Isn't that hypocritical of you to say?" 

Joe let out a low chuckle and he extended his hand. "Joe Velasco.”

Your eyes narrowed and you didn't take his hand. You looked up and down at him, before letting out the breath you had been holding. You introduced yourself and gave him a small smile. This Joe person was nice on the eyes. But being a detective yourself, you wanted to suss this person out. 

"What brings you to New York? Business or pleasure?" Joe questioned as he took a sip of his coffee.

"Are all New Yorkers so nosey? Or are you just special?" you retorted.

Joe shifted in his seat uncomfortably and cleared his throat. "My apologies. I won't bother you again."

An awkward tension followed before anything more was said. There was a sound of a chair moving and Joe looked up to see you sitting across from him.

"I'm sorry. I'm just not from here." You replied apologetically, your tone much softer. "I'm here on business. I'm participating in a conference at Madison Square Garden."

Joe furrowed his thick brows. "Not the National Sexual Assault Conference?"

"That's the one!" You exclaimed. "Wait..." There was a pregnant pause. "How did you know?"

Joe reached into his pocket and revealed his badge. "I work for the NYPD. I'm a detective in the special victims unit."

You let out a smile and what seemed to Joe as a sigh of relief. "Same, but for [your city/town]."

"So I guess in a weird way you're close but far from home?"

"You could say that," you agreed, taking another sip of coffee. "It's my first time here in New York City."

Joe laughed a little more, letting his smile grow as he looked at you again, marveling at your beauty. He was literally transfixed on you. You cleared your throat, bringing him back to the surface and he centered his gaze back on his cup. The steaming liquid provided him with a distraction as he tried to get the conversation back on track.

"So, how are you liking New York so far?" he asked, as he stirred his coffee more.

"I like it, except for the weather. In [your city], it rarely gets below sixty, even in the winter, so this is something of a drastic change for me."

"I know what you mean," Joe responded as he sipped the coffee more. He found himself easing into a relaxed state, one he hadn't felt in a long time. It was as if he was catching up with an old friend. "I am more partial to summer. Give me all the high temps.”

Joe felt his stomach flutter, something which hadn’t happened in a long time. He wanted to see you again - and not just at the conference. "Well, how about this New Yorker take you to see all the sights, that is after the conference, of course."

"Are you asking me out on a date, detective?"

Joe found himself at a loss for words and he wracked his brain trying to find something clever to reply with.

"Tell you what," you said, pulling out a pen and writing on a napkin. "Give me a call when you are finished, and let's see what we can get into. Deal?"

Joe eyed the napkin and smiled, actually smiled fully at you, seeing your cheeks redden slightly. "Deal."

—-

Joe yawned as he approached the break room, a file in hand ready to give to Olivia. The conference - which occurred over a period of two days - was long and taxing.

If not for the memories of the night before coming back home, Joe would've said that the conference was a bust, but how wrong he was. One chance meeting with a stranger had changed everything for him.

He saw Olivia head his way, her dark eyes set in determination already. Joe could swear that the Captain probably woke up with that countenance. Chuckling to himself slightly, he prepared to hand off the file.

"Velasco," Olivia greeted, as she took the file, flipping through it, "How was the conference?"

"It was what it was. Good learning experience," Joe responded as he yawned again. "Other than that, it was a pretty run of the mill weekend."

Olivia smiled as she closed the file and glanced at her watch, "I need a favor. We have a new member of the team coming in today at JFK. Think you can swing by and pick them up? Muncy was supposed to but she called out sick.”

"I have a backlog of paperwork that I was hoping to catch up on…" Joe trailed off.

"It won't take long. The flight should be landing within the hour."

Joe let an irritated sigh escape as he looked at his own watch, trying to calculate his schedule. As it was, he was already behind on several things, but he knew he couldn't just leave Olivia hanging.

"Okay.” Joe reluctantly agreed.

"Good man," Olivia responded as she turned to walk away. "Make sure you bring her to see me when you get back."

Joe put a hand up to give a half hearted wave to Olivi as she disappeared through the corridor. His day just got worse, ten times worse. Another newbie. 'Great; just great.'

—

You sat on your oversized suitcase, looking in each direction for the SUV that you were told would be picking you up. Glancing at your watch, you sighed as you started to look at your nailbeds, wondering how long you would have to stand there before actually doing something about it. Just as you were about to get up and walk, you saw the hulking vehicle as it appeared in the line.

As the vehicle came closer, you stood up, dusting the back of your pants and reaching to grab your belongings. Perching your sunglasses on your head, you squinted at the driver, in an attempt to get a closer look of who they were, but found that you couldn't.

Joe’s jaw dropped and felt his heart race as he parked. 'It can't be; what are you doing here?'

But it was you. Memories of the night after the conference flashes through his mind once more – heated kisses, his hands on your hips, your hands running through his hair, your skin dewy from sweat… the moan of his name emanating from your lips.

Joe blinked rapidly, shaking himself out of his thoughts. He swallowed hard as he got out of the vehicle and approached you. "Hi."

Your eyes widened slightly at the sight of Joe and you could feel the color draining from your face. It had never occurred to her that New York detective that you had spent a passionate night with just days before would be the same man you would be working with. How could a city with over one million people seem so small?

"Joe!" You replied, attempting a brave smile as a sinking feeling began to settle over you. If this moment was indicative of your future in Manhattan, you were going to board the next plane out to home. "I…um... it's good to see you again. I had no idea that you and I-"

"It's alright," Joe interjected, his eyes darting past you and to your paisley print luggage. Joe eyed it curiously. It was hideous. "I didn't know either."

You didn't reply; you were unsure of what to say. Despite standing outside in the vast, spacious airport parking lot, you felt overwhelmed, as if there had been a giant pink elephant in the middle of them and no one was saying anything. Joe found himself once again breaking the silence just as he did before in the diner. He tilted his head in the direction of the SUV.

"Shall we?" he questioned as he reached past you to grab your luggage.

You attempted to protest his help but Joe paid no heed to her words. "Alright," you finally conceded. "Let's go." You buckled your seatbelt and settled against the passenger seat. The ride back was silent. You stared out the window and to the passing buildings and snow covered trees.

Joe watched you out of the corner of his eye. He wanted to say something – anything but he couldn't formulate the words. He had thought he would never see you again but here you were now. Joe wasn't sure if he was capable of surviving the work week with you and showing you the ropes when he knew you so intimately. Never mind the barriers of office politics.

'Working with her is definitely going to be interesting.'

The only thing he was sure of was that he wanted the day to be done and over with.

The throbbing, aching pain in his head hadn't subsided despite taking half a bottle of ibuprofen. After dropping you off with Olivia, Joe threw himself into his work in hopes that it would take his mind off of you. It hadn't worked. Instead, he found himself even further distracted. It was his luck; he reasoned that this would happen. He didn't necessarily find the situation to be bad at all; in fact, he was disappointed that you both had to part after spending the day – and better part of the night together.

You were unlike any other woman he had met. You were way too cheerful for his usual taste; however, he found himself making an exception. You were strong, sweet and sassy – all the qualities that he looked for in a woman. He only had one night with you but he found himself hooked.

Joe cracked his knuckles and tried to focus on the paperwork before him.

—

Joe slammed the door to his locker shut, glad that the shift was finally over with. As he began to pull his coat on, the sound of footsteps caused him to pause in his actions.

"Hey Joe. I thought I'd find you here."

Joe felt his chest tighten at the sound of your voice. He turned around and found you leaning against another set of lockers. He presumed you were trying to appear casual.

"Y/N, how was your first day?"

"Good, I’m really excited to hit the ground running.”

"Glad to hear it," Joe replied. Shoving his hands deep into his pockets, he rocked on his heels. "Something tells me that you're not here to talk about how your day went though."

You shook her head. "No; you're right." You stood straight and approached Joe. "I wanted to talk about that night… about us."

"Look, if you want to pretend it never happened," Joe sighed, feeling his heart dropping into the pit of his stomach. "It's fine. I'm cool with it, but I can't just ig-"

"No! It's not that at all," you quickly rushed. "It's just that it took me by surprise. In New York, I wasn't expecting to see you again, so, I was a little…"

"Uninhibited?" Joe asked, the memory prompting an arching of his eyebrow and a smirk.

You giggled slightly, the tension that was between the two of you earlier, now seeming to dissipate. Your stance relaxed even more as you continued to smile at him, feeling something deep inside tugging at the strings of her heart. Could it be that you had fallen for him, after one night of passion? You pulled a stray hair behind your ear as you dropped your line of sight then brought it up slowly, registering that he was staring at you. Your cheeks reddened as you changed position and crossed your arms in front of yoi.

"Yeah, you can say that. So, where does it lead us?"

"Apparently, awkward moments," Joe responded as he leaned up against the opposite lockers, his demeanor a lot less stiff. Again, he found himself feeling as if he were catching up with an old friend instead of negotiating through new territory with a stranger.

"It doesn't have to be," you replied as you took a step closer to Joe. Placing your palms on his chest, you looked up at him. Your heart thumped wildly against your ribcage as you waited for his response.

Joe reached up to take your hands into his, drawing you closer as he did so. He stared into your eyes, searching. He murmured your name before pressing his lips to yours.

You gave yourself into the kiss, moaning quietly as you did so. You wrapped your arms tightly around his neck. Joe placed his hands on your lower back, in the space between the waistband of your pants and the bottom of your shirt. Your skin goosebumped beneath his touch and you pressed yourself closer to him. Joe let out a small grunt of satisfaction. You pulled away breathlessly moments later, licking your lips as she did so.

"Let's get out of here," Joe answered finally. "Get a beer or something…" 

Joe had never believed in fate before but he was starting to come around. He was starting to believe things happened for a reason. After all, had he not gone to the convention or decided to grab a cup of coffee, he wouldn't have had such an opportunity with you. Rules and work politics be damned; there was no way he was going to give up a second chance with you. Perhaps this was the best decision Olivia had ever made.

You hummed a bit before cocking your head to the door. You began to head out together, Joe’s hand on the small of your back, guiding you. He couldn't help but smile victoriously at your next sentence.

"Or something."

FIN.

[a-998h]

Romantic Battle Tendency with albino reader

(Reader is gender neutral and has extreme albinism. I will not include von Stroheim)

Joseph Joestar

This man just stares at first

Untill he met you he had never seen an albino person

He is curious about you

Due to being albino, your eyes are light sensitive so you always where sunglasses

This makes him wonder what color eyes you have, or if your eyes are completely white

When he sees you have red eyes, he thinks its the most badass thing ever

Will not tolerate disrespect towards you

It's the 1930's, so people treat you differently because you're albino

He once yelled at someone who mocked your appearance in public

You've had to keep him from beating someone into a mess a sidewalk or in an alley

Is in shock when you tell him your hair is translucent, and only looks white because its grouped together

If you ask him to he will help you put sunscreen on

If you ever feel in secure about your looks he'll say stuff like...

"Your my very own snow white," and other flirty comments to make you feel better

His nicknames for you are snow white, angel, bunny, and robin

When he learns you have poor eyesight because you're albino

His willingness to help has increased

Makes jokes that your skin will blend into your wedding outfit

When he learns albinism is genetic he asks why your parents aren't albino

You have to explain to him how genetics work...

When he finds your hair everywhere he freaks out

Gets even more freaked out when you explain that because you're albino you're hair will fall out more

Ceaser Zeppeli

Has many nicknames for you

His nicknames for you are principessa, cigno, colomba, and lepre.

He was taken a back by your appearance at first

Like Joseph, he had never seen an albino person untill meeting you

When he learns about your light sensitive eyes and how you need to protect your skin from the sun at all times

He is willing to help you

He will carry extra sunglasses and sunscreen for you

Loves your eyes

Says stuff like "lepre, your eyes are just like rubies,"

While he typically has a good handle on his temper...

The second anyone insults you because of your appearance. You will need to hold him back

Will make sure you never feel insecure about your looks

When he learns that albinism is genetic he tells you that makes you even more special, that you are one in a million

It's very careful with your hair when he realizes it will fall out easy

Would want you to pick a wedding outfit in a color that makes your skin and hair stand out more

Lisa Lisa

This woman....

Smothers you with love

Is curious about why your albino

When you explain it's genetic she nods and says she understands

She is always carrying sunglasses for herself so it's no problem to carry sunglasses for you

Like mother like son

She will intimidate people who mock your appearance

A lot of people don't take her seriously because she's a woman... They soon learn the error of their ways very fast

Only uses the best on your hair when she learns it will fall out easy

Coats you head to toe in sunscreen

Wraps her scarf around you as sun protection

Buys you some sun hats that she thinks are cute

Makes sure you are always protected from the sun

Calls you nicknames like robin, swan, angel, and frosty

She would buy makeup for you, so she can "enhance your beauty"

Suzi Q

You have to explain to her multiple times what being albino means

She buys you cute clothes, that also work as sun protection

She writes note to remind you both to wear sunscreen

If your eyes hurt from being over exposed to light, she'll make your bedroom dark while you sleep it off

When she learns that albinism is genetic, she doesn't understand at first

She loves you no matter what

She will pick out clothes that stand out against your skin

She would love to do you hair

She calls you snowy, honey, and snowflake

She calls you snowflake because she think you're one of a kind

Would help you with sunscreen

She will pout if anyone makes fun of you

She doesn't do well with confrontation, but will try if someone insults you

Would brag about you

She compares your eyes to cherries and roses

Another that would buy makeup for you

Would color match your makeup to make your skin stand out

[sunlightandsuffering]

something about BTL eren turning everything mikasa does into an innuendo around the holidays is so 😭 maybe bc she’s super busy decorating and shopping he feels she isnt spending enough time with him so is missing his mikasa fix

UGH IM SO UPSET ABOUT BTL RN BC I WANTED IT DONE TONIGHT BUT IM A PERFECTIONIST SO LIKE I DON'T THINK IT'S GONNA HAPPEN AND IM SO UPSET!!! But no literally ur on point anon, I'm giving u guys the whole scene rn bc I want y'all to see it even if u don't get the full chapter :( Im so sad I can't publish tonight before I go out, here this is the consolation prize bc ur so on point he's just sulking bc he wants her attention!!

Mikasa does not look impressed with his decision, but she doesn’t argue either which Eren takes as a sign that she’d also been fed up with arguing over it. She goes back to decorating their rather sad excuse for a tree, the one she’d absolutely insisted upon. 

So far, Eren has covered about half of the large bald spot on the tree with tinsel, but he’s running low and there’s still the other side to do, not to mention half the tree is already covered with the stuff and Mikasa makes a face as she notices.  “Eren that’s too much tinsel.”  “Mikasa,” he says disbelievingly, this is all her fault, “I have to cover up the bald spots up somehow, just because you chose an ugly tree…” 

Mikasa throws an ornament at him, “You’re such a grinch.” 

The ornament bounces off of him ineffectually, falling to the floor with a jingle and he gives her a wicked grin, looking back at her salaciously, “You’re right Mika, I am, I’ve got something that can grow three sizes after all.”  He leans down to grab another ornament from the box next to her, revelling in the look of shock on her face as her pretty head struggles to reconcile the words that have just come out of his mouth, and then the sweet little blush as she processes the quip. Mikasa is struck still as he leans in close, his lips just a hairsbreadth from her own, “And it’s not my heart, that’s for sure.” 

She doesn’t move for a solid minute and Eren counts this as a win for himself. 

She sputters as she finally regains herself, “You’re terrible Eren.” 

“I’ve got the stamina of Santa Mikasa, I can go all night long.”  Mikasa smacks him for that one before stomping off to the kitchen to check on her cookies and he grins, calling after her, “I’ve got more, you just wait Ackerman.”

“I don’t want to hear them,” she calls back and he watches her happily as she leans down to check the oven for her cookies.  He loves to bother her, she’s so easy to rile up. 

He can’t help himself when she doesn’t come back right away, instead he can see from the living room that she’s messing around with her phone at the counter where it’s plugged into the wall.  “Mikasa, no phones, it’s Christmas, this is supposed to be about quality time together,” he teases her.  She gives him a dirty look from her perch at the counter, “You just want to sexually harass me, be honest.” 

He can’t help his self-satisfied smile as he goes for another quip, “If you come sit in my lap Miki I’ve got a special gift just for you.”  “EREN!” Mikasa says, affronted and her cheeks are completely flushed now, rosy red, almost the same colour as the cute little Santa hat she’s wearing. 

He holds his hands up in a truce, following her into the kitchen just as her timer goes off for her cookies.  She gives him a withering look as he hops up onto the counter next to her before she jumps down to go check her cookies. 

He pouts as her attention is turned to the oven, “You’re making too many cookies, I’m going to get fat Miks.” 

She takes the batch of Christmas sugar cookies from the oven, shaped like snowflakes and candy canes, placing them on the counter cool. 

She drops her pink oven mitts, coming to stand between his legs and Eren can’t help how his mouth quirks up, he likes her close, can’t help thinking she belongs there.  Mikasa lifts his shirt up just enough to expose chiselled abs and she gives him a dry look, her hands slipping over the muscles of his stomach, “I’m not too worried about it.” 

He shivers at the feeling as her sparkly white Christmas nails scratch over his happy trail to his jeans where they linger for just a second and their eyes catch, the room thick with sexual tension.  It’s been a while since they’ve done anything, on hold for the Christmas season or because neither of them know how to navigate this, he’s not sure, but as Mikasa’s thumb toys with the button of his jeans he knows for sure he wants it to continue, wants to teach her everything there is to know about sex.  Her lips part and she leans in, her hand slipping just a little lower to where he’s very obviously straining against his jeans, the thick length of him ready and waiting for her delicate touch. 

He leans down, just a touch of his lips against her own, whisper soft, an almost kiss and Mikasa leans up to match him, and already he can taste the sugar from her cookies on her lips, absolutely delicious.  But of course, Eren can’t help ruining it, how could he possibly pass up this prime opportunity as Mikasa feels him over his jeans, rubbing at the aching line of his cock.  “That’s not a candy cane in my pocket Mikasa, I’m just glad to see you.” 

“EREN!” 

[linkysmommy]

Rowan's First Christmas

Happy Secret Santa day for @pinesprings. I hope you enjoy your gift!

Fandom: It Lives Within Pairing: FMC x Amalia de León Word Count: 1458 A/N: Features fluff, hurt/comfort, and angst.

Snowflakes blew past the window in frenzied flurries, and the howl of wind moaned through the rafters. It was a cold Christmas, even for Westchester. Rowan huddled deeper into her bed and pulled the blankets tighter around herself.

The scent of ham and mashed potatoes wafted up to Rowan’s room, but not even that enticed her to get out of her bed. The de Leóns were doing everything to make her Christmas a happy one, including making the traditional Burke family dishes alongside their Dominican dishes, but it didn’t change the fact that this was the worst day Rowan had had in weeks.

It was her first Christmas without them—without her family. Her first Christmas not waking up to Annie’s excited screams and her dad’s poppyseed muffins, her first Christmas not helping her mom make gingerbread cookies to give away to friends and coworkers. It wasn’t the de Leóns’ fault. They were perfect and kind and oh so good to her. But right now, all she wanted was to lay in bed forever and never wake up.

Knock knock knock

The rapping pulled Rowan from her thoughts. “Who is it?” she groaned into her pillow.

“The greatest, most amazing friend to grace God’s green earth,” came the reply.

Rowan huffed out a laugh. “The biggest-headed friend to grace God’s green earth, I think you mean. And you know you can always come in without asking, Amalia. This is your room, too.”

The door creaked open to reveal Amalia, her hair messily pulled back and a bright red Santa hat balanced atop her head. 

She grinned and held out a plate of ham, mashed potatoes, rice, and guandules. “If you won’t come to Christmas, Christmas comes to you!” In her other hand, she lifted up a bottle of champagne and two glasses. “And my parents said I could take this. You and I will be partying hard tonight.”

A small smile pulled at Rowan’s lips, but almost immediately she turned her back on Amalia with a sigh. “You don’t have to do this, Amalia.”

“Do what?”

“Spend your Christmas trying to cheer me up. It’s really okay. Just go celebrate with your parents and have fun. I’ll join you… if I’m feeling up to it.”

Silence blanketed the room, and for a moment Rowan thought Amalia had left. But then she felt the mattress sink and heard the springs creak as Amalia sat beside her on the bed.

“Rowan.”

“Yeah.”

“…Do you wanna talk about it?”

The words made Rowan’s breath catch and her heart pick up speed.

“Talk about what?” Rowan asked, but she knew full well what Amalia meant.

Amalia bit her lip and threw Rowan a sideways glance. “I know it’s your first Christmas without them. It can’t be easy.”

Rowan’s mind flashed to last Christmas. Her parents had given her and Annie a new gaming console, and the two of them spent most of the day sabotaging each other in Mario Kart. They paused for dinner and photos—Rowan’s dad insisted they all wear matching moose pajamas and fake antlers—and then again for dessert. Annie ate too much pumpkin pie and threw up.

Rowan’s heart tightened in her chest. She’d had no idea that it would be her last Christmas with them.

“It… doesn’t feel like Christmas,” Rowan finally managed to say. Her voice was barely a whisper, and Amalia had to lean in close to hear. “And the truth is, I don’t know if I want it to feel like Christmas. It feels wrong to celebrate without them.”

Amalia placed her hand over Rowan’s and gave her fingers a gentle squeeze. “Okay then. It’s not Christmas.”

Rowan rolled onto her side, finally facing Amalia, and blinked at her in confusion. “Huh?”

“It’s not Christmas. It’s just a regular Tuesday.” Amalia rolled off the bed and took off her Santa hat before setting it on the bedside table. “And you know what we do on Tuesdays.”

“...What do we do on Tuesdays?”

Amalia threw Rowan a confused look. “I mean, I know we haven’t done it in a while, but popcorn and puzzles?”

Rowan just stared blankly at her.

“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten,” Amalia said.

“Okay, then I won’t tell you.”

Amalia chuckled and moved to her closet, where she started rummaging through the shelves. “We used to make a blanket fort and then eat popcorn and do puzzles inside the fort. Remember?”

Now that Rowan thought about it, it was starting to come back to her. Popcorn and puzzles used to be one of her favorite things to do with Amalia.

“What about your parents though?” Rowan asked. “It’s Christmas. You should spend it with your family.”

Amalia stepped out of the closet, her arms full of jigsaw puzzles and booklets full of riddles and crosswords. “What are you talking about?” she asked as she dumped her collection onto her bed. “You’re my family too, Rowan.”

Something inside Rowan swelled at the words, and she couldn’t hide the blush that crept to her cheeks. She looked away.

“So, we doing this or not? Are we having a non-Christmas puzzles and popcorn party?” Amalia said.

Rowan hesitated, and then with a small smile, she threw the blankets off of herself. “Yeah,” she said. “Popcorn and puzzles.”

Amalia’s logical approach to structuring the fort combined with Rowan’s tenacity to get anything to stick anywhere made it quick work to set up the blanket fort. Soon, Rowan and Amalia were sprawled out inside the fort, lying side-by-side on their bellies on top of a soft mound of blankets and pillows. String lights that Amalia had expertly hung sparkled along the edges of the fort, casting a scant glow over the two girls.

“The next clue is ‘Text sent while one is waiting for their plane to finish taxiing,’” Rowan read. “Huh? What is that supposed to mean? Is there a specific word for this type of text?”

“How many letters is it?” Amalia asked, propping herself up on one elbow to look at Rowan’s paper.

“Uh… six.”

Amalia paused for a moment, and then grinned. “Landed!”

“What? What do you mean, landed?”

“That’s the text that you send to the people coming to pick you up when you land.”

“OH!” Rowan scribbled the world ‘LANDED’ into the puzzle. “Yeah, that makes a lot of sense. Good thinking, Amalia!”

“That’s what I’m here for,” she said as she grabbed a handful of popcorn. “Epic blanket forts and solving crosswords.”

Rowan laughed and nudged Amalia with her shoulder. “You’re here for a lot more than that.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“Fishing for compliments, are we, de León?”

“Of course.”

Rowan snorted and rolled onto her back, her side pressing up against Amalia’s. “You just… you’re always there for me, Amalia. This year has been the hardest year of my life, and honestly? Sometimes I think that the only reason I’m still here is because of you. Because you were there for me.”

Amalia’s teasing smile faded. “Rowan…”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t need to get so real so fast, but—"

“Ro, you have nothing to apologize for.” Amalia wrapped her arm around Rowan and pulled her into her side. “You know I’ll always be here for you. I’d be happy to turn every Christmas into popcorn and puzzles day and to make you those nasty mayo sandwiches at 2 AM every morning because you always get hungry, because you—” Amalia cuts off, suddenly seeming a little uncertain.

“Because I… what?” Rowan asked.

Amalia cleared her throat. “Because, Ro. You’re my family, and you always will be.”

Rowan’s eyes misted over and she couldn’t help but smile. “You’re my family too, Amalia.”

They stayed like that, wrapped up in each other’s arms, until Rowan felt drowsiness overtake her. And as she fell asleep, her heart could feel just how true Amalia’s words were. Amalia… her family… they were Rowan’s family. And she never wanted to go a single day without them.

Never.

...

....

.....

....

...

Morning light spilled in from the window, bleeding into the room and shining in Rowan’s eyes. She groaned and sat up, and with a start, she realized where she was.

She wasn’t at the de Leóns’ home. She hadn’t been there in months. It wasn’t Christmas time, it was still autumn. She was in Connor’s cabin in the woods, and Amalia—

Amalia was gone.

She couldn’t be Rowan’s family anymore. She wasn’t going to be there forever. And Rowan, who had never wanted to go a single day without Amalia by her side, cried alone in her room as she realized that she may just have to live her entire future without the person she loved more than anything in the world.

[finerandbonnier]

The Splintered Dreamer

Chapter Five of Lucian, just before the fall

[AO3]

A totally unrelated series of recollections, half remember truths, and outright fabrications regarding London shortly before the event that would come to be known as the Fall and that hold no greater meaning or significance.

Archie woke with a start, his skin clammy and his undershirt uncomfortably stuck by sweat to the hollow of his back. It was the dream again. The one that floated in the back of his mind. He had other dreams of course. Dreams of home, of Glasgow in the winter and snowflakes melting on his sister’s hair. Dreams of far-flung locales inspired by the books he read, wind catching the canvas of a tall ship as soldiers in scarlet coats bustled across the deck or the scent of foreign cooking on a hot breeze as he walked along a dusty road. But no matter how his dreams started inevitably they would shift before the end to the same familiar but half-remembered scene.

A terrible secret. A betrayal. A theft in the night. The cobbled stones shifting beneath his feet as though they were waves on a great sea, wet and glistening in the moonlight. A hand at his back, holding him steady. A hand at his back, pushing him to the floor. His head swimming from drink or drugs or something else. An imploring voice that wasn’t his own emanating from his throat as he sounded words he couldn’t understand across a tongue heavy with the taste of whiskey. A struggle. Being dragged. Being lifted. Being carried. A locked door opening and leading to a dark hallway. Red symbols that hurt to look at carved into wallpaper. And above all else the one throughline that centred itself in his mind. He had to warn them. Warn London. Warn him.

If only he knew who it was, this mystery man who occupied his sleeping thoughts. He had a vague sense of someone tall with broad shoulders and the colour blue, but the face of the man remained frustratingly out of reach, trapped behind a haze of dream fog impenetrable to his waking self. At first he’d tried to force the image to the front of his mind. The futile attempts had only served to leave him with a splitting headache that had him reaching for his medical supplies. Then he tried subtler methods, confident that if only he could ignore the thought for long enough it would make itself known to him in time. Dreams can be fickle he thought, try to catch them and they’ll slip through your grasping fingers. Better to wait and let it come to him.

Except it never did. And so the cycle would continue, the desperate mission of his dream, it’s urgency hounding him into the waking world and the emptiness that followed, that disquieting feeling that he had forgotten something of grave importance that he could not shake until he dreamt again.

On his best days it was almost easy to discount the dream, to face it down with facts and logic and turn it into a small thing that he was foolish to exhaust so much mental effort over. The dream was just a dream. Plenty of people had bad dreams in the Neath, Archie knew that better than anyone. It was nothing a little laudanum wouldn’t fix if he had any to spare. On his worst days it was hard to tell where the dream stopped and reality started. He would walk along the Thames asleep in his bed at Mrs. Chapman’s and wake to find himself beside the Stolen River. He would turn a corner on a street in the Neath and then be walking along a London road above, fresh air ruffling his hair and alcohol on his breath surrounded by gentlemen in fine clothing.

There was another man too when he got that bad. A smiling man in a stovepipe hat and a coat with bright brass buttons and eyes too old for his face. He listened to Archie’s ramblings with the patience of a doting parent and somehow never made him feel like he was going mad. Or more accurately, he made it seem like going mad was the sanest thing of all.

Archie shook his head. He had more pressing things to focus on. There was a city full of patients to attend to down in the Neath that relied on him being lucid and fully present, not caught up in his own head. He moved to the small washbasin Mrs Chapman had provided for his room and splashed a little water on his face. He was a doctoral student from Glasgow who had been training in London when it fell, he reminded himself.

He had never stood on the deck of a ship off the southern coast of Africa. He had never walked through an open-air market as the scent of turmeric filled his nostrils. And he had certainly never staggered through the streets of London in a desperate attempt to warn Harjit Singh.

[hohindamura]

Scan Source

Translation of the first few pages from Volume 3! Will try translating the other sample pages soon.

Always appreciate suggestions!

Alt Text Below

Title Page Animal Crossing: News from Hohinda Village Sayorin: Whoa~ Gracie, easy now~ Gracie: Get off of me.

[Background Text] Ruiko: Ah. Resetti: Oi... Kotaro: Her shoe fell off- haha! Roscoe: If you're gonna race, I'll beat ya. Pecan: You’re gonna race..?

Pg. 1

The Tune is Wrong Sayorin: Today’s a fun Christmaas~ Sayorin: What? Roscoe: U-uh.

Lobo: Hey, isn’t that the Hinamatsuri tune? Roscoe: I guess she's going retro, huh? Sayorin: (in bg) Today's gonna to be a fun Hinamatsuri~

Pg. 2

Gift from Chiaki

Sayorin: Ew, a Christmas present from Chiaki? S: Kinda suspicious…

Mitzi: Sayorin, you shouldn’t say those kinds of things. You might incur a divine punishment! S: Mitzi…

M: Christmas should be a special occasion that makes everyone feel nice. S: You’re right, sorry.

Gift from Chiaki Pt. 2

S: Urg, she’s makes me angry! M: Um, there’s a letter attached to the present. Should we read it?

S: I'd rather throw it away. M: You shouldn’t say that!

M: Christmas should be a special occasion th- S: I get it, I get it.

Chiaki: For your Christmas allowance, I’ll be sending you three empty cans as a nice favour, ohoho~ S: Darn it! M: Ah, I had some errands… T/N: It’s common for older people to send younger people (typically children) money as a gift during New Years (celebrate with Christmas).

Pg. 3

Santa is here?!

Sayorin: I feel like on a night like this, Santa could appear any minute now ~♥.

S: OH!

S: Pew! Pew! P-Pew!

S: Aw, I guess Santa’s not actually real... Gulliver: H-huh? What did you say...?

You cannot do that!

G: H-hold on! If I were to be the real Santa, what were you planning to do?

G: Were you going to shoot me down to get a present!? S: Eh!?

S: Am I not supposed to do that? G: Ugh, nevermind.

Pg. 4

Oooough…

?: Oo…

?: Oo… oo… S: W-who’s making that noise? G: It cannot be a mole cricket…

S: Wait! What if it’s the ghost of winter!! G: No! I am scared!!

UFO: Please move -zura… so heavy… S: Ah, the ship's on top of a snow man! G: What!?

Cheeky Gulliver

G: I have moved the ship away. Snowman: I’m saved, zura…

G: So. Snow: ?

G: So, I have just rescued you.

Snow: Ah, yes. Thank you -zura. So?

G: So, give me a snowman furniture, please. (Don…!) Snow: I can’t believe you’re going there -zura.

Pg. 5

Baby Hat and Baby Talk

Snow: I’m a victim because you just so happened to land on me all of the sudden-zura!! G: Well, I am also a victim too!

Snow: Then, who’s the perpetrator? G: Well, I think… (Turn)

S: Sayowin is still baby so I don’t kwnow. ♡ (Goo goo) G: You can't dodge your way out of this!

A snowman’s willpower!

G: Anyways, just help me collect parts for my ship. S: Okay.

Snow: I’ll help out -zura. Snow: Snowflakes! Help me find parts!

S: Ooh! S: The snowflakes are making them easier to find!

Snow: And with that, I would like some souvenirs, please. G: Are you seriously going there!? (Fall-)

Pg. 6

A Superpower.

G: Well, you have to give me yours first! Snow: No yours!

S: Hey, I got all the parts-. G: Snowman! Snow: Souvenirs!

(Snowman/Souvenirs argument in the background)

S: Both of you shut up! Give them to me.

It might be new.

G: I guess as a special reward, I will give you a rare Christmas item. S: Yay! ♪

G: It is a Santa Moai! S: Y-

S: Uh, this is just a regular Moai with a king’s beard and a red pom-pom hat... G: It’s a Santa Moai.