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leifygreeens · 25 days ago

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🎄 Secret Santa Fic Exchange 🎄

@nebraskashouse I hope you enjoy this, as belated as it is—and don't fret, the second part of this lovely little fic is on its way.

@loverboykirstein and @snailmail444 also posted some very delicious fics of their own for the season, you can find them here and here. Minors, do not interact with either of them, thank you. And as always, thanks to @lendelleaves for being my best friend and editor in chief. Would not be nearly as in love with this if it weren't for him.

Warnings: 2300~ words, Harvey/Fem!Farmer, SoftDom!Harvey, praise kink

Enjoy <3

The Farmer stands just a few feet away, readjusting the ornaments and tucking garlands higher or lower within the branches of their tree. She steps away with a sigh, clearly frustrated, and props her hands on her hips.

Harvey watches quietly for a moment, admiring the soft slope of the Farmer’s back beneath the hideous Christmas sweater she’d picked out for herself. It's a prickly woolen fabric, with the word ‘Naughty’ sprawled across the chest in an even pricklier red tinsel, made to match his much softer and more pleasant sweater, which reads ‘Nice’ in a perfectly comfortable embroidery thread. Then he sets his #1 Doctor mug on the coffee table with a soft thunk.

He gets up from the couch with a grunt, too quiet to catch her attention when she’s so preoccupied, and he takes advantage of her focus being elsewhere to slip his arms around her waist.

She sinks into him immediately, and he presses a kiss against her head, just behind her ear. The wool scratches against Harvey's wrists, but he doesn’t move.

“Dear, if you keep glaring at the tree like that you’re going to set it on fire,” he whispers.

“Sorry,” she mutters, curling her warm palms over his forearms and squeezing. He shakes his head and pulls her closer.

“Talk to me.” He bumps his nose against the curve of her jaw, just above her pulse point, and smiles when she shivers at the brush of his facial hair against her skin. “Tell me what's bothering you.”

“Nothing,” she says quickly, and Harvey frowns. “It’s just—it’s dumb.”

He watches the side of her face intently, studying the curve of her cheek, the swoop of her eyelashes, and the downturn of her mouth. He knows she knows that he’s watching, but she won’t meet his eyes. Harvey thinks that’s probably okay. He can still work with that.

He pulls back and presses a lingering kiss to her shoulder, just above the collar of her sweater. “You know I’ll never get tired of listening to you.”

“Careful… too much encouragement and I might start waxing poetic about the fermentation process for wine,” she jokes, and Harvey laughs, because he is a weak, weak man.

He hums, his smile turning soft. “Don’t go threatening me with a good time.”

“Well, if you insist,” she starts, taking a big breath, and Harvey spins her around before she can launch into a lecture on the intricacies of sugar and its effect on alcohol content.

The Farmer tastes like gingerbread and espresso.

Kissing her is easy, is comfortable. It always has been, even the first time when he was five hundred feet in the air and his heart was threatening to jump out of his chest and crash back to earth without him. She makes him feel brave, and his feet are on the ground right now, but he might as well be floating among the stars with how light his chest feels.

The Farmer wraps her arms over his shoulders with a contented sigh, and he follows her lead easily, dropping his hands down to her waist. The fabric is rough against his palms, and he wrinkles his nose.

“You really don’t like the sweater, huh?” she asks, grinning—and forcing him to pull away, lest he kiss her teeth.

“Of course I do.” Harvey bunches the horrendous fabric in his fists, and yanks her right up against him. His smile turns wolfish at her gentle yelp. “I love everything you wear.”

“Oh, you’re so full of shit.” She smirks as he shoves his hands under the fabric to grab at her waist properly.

“Language, dear,” Harvey whispers, and then he kisses her deeply. The warmth of her skin burns him alive. She makes a tiny sound, barely perceptible in the depth of her chest, and Harvey breathes in harshly through his nose before pulling a hair’s breadth away. “You’re trying to distract me.”

“Funny,” she says, carding her fingertips through the baby hairs on his nape. “I thought that was what you were trying to do.”

She tugs him down for another kiss, and Harvey groans, squeezing the Farmer’s sweet waist and—focus, damn it.

“Tell me what’s bothering you, honey. Please.” Harvey tugs himself away only to press their foreheads back together. She frowns through half-lidded eyes, and then sighs heavily.

“It feels like something is missing,” she mumbles, turning to face the tree. He follows her gaze to it.

Glittering garlands swoop through the branches, and sparkly plastic ornaments peek through the pine needles, flickering with the reflections of warm white lights. The tree skirt is a deep red velvet flecked with gold embroidery—a gift from Emily. It’s a good height, and the branches are full and green, green, green.

By all standards, it’s the perfect Christmas tree.

Harvey’s eyes flick to the very top, and—ah.

Harvey smiles fondly, amusement coloring his voice as he whispers against the shell of her ear: “I think I might know what’s missing.”

“Are you laughing at me? In my time of need?” she asks, looking over her shoulder at him and doing a very good job of pretending to be outraged. Harvey chuckles low in his chest and kisses her cheek.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Harvey promises, gently lifting her chin upward with the first knuckle of his index finger. “I was just thinking of how silly Santa would look without his hat.”

She goes still as she takes in the top of the Christmas tree.

It is perfectly barren—not a star in sight—and Harvey grins as she drops her head back against his shoulder with a groan. “I knew I forgot something!”

Harvey chuckles heartily, and turns her face toward him so he can kiss the disappointed pout off of her lips.

“It’s a lovely tree nonetheless, honey,” Harvey says. “But I’m sure there’s something in the house that you could use instead of a star, if you wanted.”

“Will you help me look?” She asks, blinking her pretty eyes up at him, and his chest floods with warmth.

“Anything for you,” he promises, leaning down to press a long kiss to her cheek. “I’ll check the bedroom.”

Then he steps away, (albeit regretfully,) and makes his way down the hall.

The smell of cinnamon and sugar are thick even in here, and Harvey takes a deep breath in before crossing their plush rug and tugging open their closet. They may not have stars, but he has bow-ties and regular ties and he knows for certain that there’s ribbon leftover from when they were wrapping presents earlier that week.

Lo and behold, it doesn’t take him more than a minute before he’s walking back with several different options in his hands, all just as festive as the tree itself. He almost cringes at the patterns, actually. It’s a miracle the Farmer thought he was attractive when he was wearing such goofy-looking ties all the time.

“Honey, I think I found a couple things that could work!” He calls down the hall. He stops in the threshold a moment later to find her dragging the kitchen stool in front of the tree.

“So did I,” she says, holding up a pair of reindeer antler clips. “What do you think?”

“A reindeer tree?” He drops the ribbons and ties on the coffee table as he crosses the room. “Sure, why not?”

“Is that okay?” Her voice turns small, and Harvey presses a reassuring kiss to the top of her head.

“It’s adorable, and I love it. Do you want help putting them on?”

“Could you hold me?” She steps up onto the stool. “I don’t know how sturdy this thing is.”

Harvey settles his hands low on her hips.

She carefully clips one antler around a branch, making sure it sits upright, and then attaches the second one on the opposite side. The antlers are a good size, not too heavy but not too small, and she pulls her hands away to admire her handiwork.

Then her smile turns sharp.

“What are you scheming now, you little devil?” Harvey asks, fond, but maybe scared, maybe just a little. He'd count himself a fool if he wasn't.

She peers down at the tree, and he pays her rapt attention as she points at the lower branches. “Could you give me that ornament, down there? The bright red one?”

He nods and reaches for the glittering bauble.

Harvey pauses. Looks up at her.

“You’re not.”

Her grin widens. “Give it to me and find out.”

He shakes his head and slides the ornament off of the branch, careful not to break any needles with the metal hook, and places it in her waiting palm. She gives him a satisfied nod, and then hooks it around the tree, just under the antlers.

“Perfect.” She adjusts the ornament again, though he can't see why. “What do you think?”

“Rudolph the red-nosed Christmas tree.” Harvey squeezes her hip. “Cute.”

The reflections of the lights dance in her eyes, smoldering, like embers in a fireplace. Harvey licks his lips; he doesn’t fight the smile that spreads over his face, when she tracks the movement with catlike attention.

“Well,” she says, barely more than a breath. “As long as you like it.”

Foolish of her to think he could do anything else. He’s obsessed: every thought, every movement, every word out of her mouth is like a gentle caress against his soul.

He reminds her of this quietly. “I love everything you do.”

“Do you, now?” she asks, and the words are teasing while her tone is anything but. Harvey’s fingers twitch against the waistline of her plush pajama pants. The soft white fabric would look so lovely crumpled on the floor…or dangling from her ankles. He’s not picky.

“You don’t believe me?” Harvey drags one palm down her thigh, and squeezes the muscle there. It's a question, too.

The Farmer steadies herself on his shoulder and bends down to press a long kiss against his brow bone. The hunger in him simmers, and he closes his eyes to lean into the warmth.

“I believe you,” the Farmer’s lips brush against his skin, featherlight and tickling his hairline as she moves to whisper in his ear: “But could you prove it to me again?”

Gladly.

She huffs a laugh, and he wonders if he’d said it out loud.

“Go to the bedroom,” Harvey says, pitching his voice low, and gravelly, just the way she likes it.

Her breath catches, shivering against the shell of his ear and making his hair stand on end. She listens, pulling away slowly and stepping down from the stool. Only when her feet meet the carpet does she look up at him again, her eyes desperate and eager and not at all like those she fixed on him a mere two minutes ago.

He knows that look.

“Meet me on the bed. Keep everything on.” Harvey curls his hand over the back of her neck and drags her up into a heated kiss. He pulls away, sooner than he'd like to, feeling hungry, almost starving.

She swallows harshly, the blush on her cheeks sending jolts through him. “Am I allowed to touch myself?”

Fuck, what a question. “Do you think you could last that long?”

A pause.

“No,” she whispers, and Harvey brushes his thumb over the swell of her bottom lip.

“Would you rather come on your own fingers? Do you think that would satisfy you?”

“No,” she hisses, her hands flying up to grab his wrist. Her voice is just as firm when she repeats, “No.”

Harvey chuckles and pats her ass, encouraging. “Go, then. I’ll be quick.”

She disappears down the hall in a blur of color and quick footsteps, and Harvey gets to work immediately. He doesn’t want to keep her waiting, lest she actually shove a hand down the front of her panties to find some semblance of relief.

Or maybe she would just rub her pretty little thighs together, and she would never get enough of anything for it to matter—

His mouth goes bone dry, and he sets off for the kitchen with their empty mugs hooked on his fingers. He doesn’t bother washing them, just fills them both to the brim with scalding water to soak, and returns to the living area. The throw pillows on the couches are deflated, but he doesn’t bother fluffing them back up like he ordinarily would. He yanks the plug for the tree lights out of the socket, plunging the room into near darkness, and then marches down the hall.

The Farmer is at the edge of their bed, still fully clothed and white-knuckling the sheets on either side of her hips like a lifeline. So much restraint in those lovely eyes of hers, trying so hard to be good, to be patient. Harvey bites down on a noise that would have come out pained, and closes the door behind him.

“Beautiful,” he says, loud enough for her to hear. She shivers, a tempting blush blazing over her cheeks and the tips of her ears. The effect is near-instant, and Harvey almost laughs. He already knows the answer, but: “You didn’t touch yourself.”

She shakes her head quickly. “I didn’t want to… not without you.”

Harvey pushes off the door, and he thinks he must be going a little mad. He stops in front of her, right between the V of her legs where she’d spread them in anticipation. She cranes her neck back to look him in the eye, and Harvey cups her jaw. “Safe word?”

She sighs into his skin, and turns to kiss the heel of his palm. “Espresso.”

They’ve never needed it before, but he asks—reminds—her every time. Just in case.

“Perfect,” he murmurs, and leans down to give her what she's asked for.

#stardew valley #sdv #stardew harvey #sdv harvey #stardew farmer #sdv farmer #stardew fic #sdv fic #fic exchange #moots <3 #been a fucking minute since i posted anything worthwhile but here it is!!#I hope you like it!! <3

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storywriter12 · 8 months ago

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@garma-mom I hope that you like this and I hope that I did good on this sorry it took so long

Merle Dixon Relationship preferences

(how did you meet) you met him the first ever time you got to woodbury you were in your own scared and hurt only little scratches but the doctor there patched you up merle took you to a little room where you stayed the night. He was kind to you. He told you if there was anything you needed you come right to him you smiled at him and thanked him he nodded leaving you in. Your new room the next morning you had breakfast with the governor and he asked you all sorts of questions. How did you make it this far? Are you with a group?. You were sad given that most if not all of your group died you told him this and he said he was sorry for your loss and you will have a family here. He brought Merle in and he showed you around you loved the library there which you shared the love of books to him you both had little looks here and there. You saw him blush but looked away. You noticed that his hand was gone but you didn't ask he saw you look at it anyway “cut it off”he said lifting it up, sorry you said to him but he brushed it off that day you spent together was really nice he got you both lunch and showed you around he then showed you to your house. You gasped in shock from how pretty it was “I'm… I'm, I'm hoping that you are going to stay “he said stuttering over his words you turned and smiled at him he left you alone to get settled in for the night and that he will see you tomorrow morning.

(what he thought about you)

He liked you. He liked being around you he spent more of his time with you then anybody else you two would just sit and talk he discovered that you were a baker and a very good cook so you would cook him food if he had to go out and then just give it to one of the guards to save it for when he came home. This touched him no one ever really cooked for him and he liked you even more because you did this he always told you that you shouldn't but you always shut him down so eventually he stopped and just let you bake and. Cooked his other friends would call you his housewife which he smiled at but told them to mind their own business. He would even join you for dinner, most nights he would set the table and then after you two would talk and play cards after you fell asleep and he covered your body over with a blanket. Yes he liked you alot.

(how would he ask you out) he would do a picnic for you and take you out somewhere he knew was safe you both lied down and he was dressed very smartly he looked at you watching the warm wind blow your hair he felt nervous he didn't want to overstep the mark with this he took deep breaths and it just came out

(merle) so you wanna go out with me? As in a date?.....

Silence filled the air until he spoke again

(merle) if you don't it's OK

(You) you cut him off. I would love to! You said smiling at him

He had to check if he heard you right but then it sank in that you said yes he got all tingly which happens. All the time he was around you he smiled at you and now he had to think. Where was he going to take you?

(where would he take you:He came around your house around 2:00pm with a big box. You looked at him with a “what's this? “ Look, you helped him with the box to your living room and placed it onto the table you both sat down on the chairs . then moved to the floor. The box was full of memories from life before CDs with sounds like birds singing, waves crashing and tills in the shop ringing money. You couldn't remember what the world sounded like before now the world just sounds like the stuff of nightmares. He also bought some candles with him, smells what you loved, cut grass, smells of fresh bread, gingerbread, cinnamon and mixed berries. You both just lied down on the floor making convocations with each other he knew. How much you missed life before but you were always so thankful for being alive now.

(First kiss) it was a hit day and you were just in a top and shorts you went to visit him. He was on guard. You climbed up and brought him a cold drink. When he saw you he smiled and hugged you. You of course hugged him back. Kissing him in the cheek

(merle) what was that for?

(you) oh you know you looked like you needed something to get you through the day you smiled at him and he. Bite his lip. Looking at your lips

(merle) why don't you kiss me so where else? Here? I said pointing at my lips. I leaned down and kissed her softly as she kissed me back, wrapping her arms around me.

(you) you felt his hand wrap around you. You gave him another kiss and then pulled away. See you later

(what does he call you) baby, sexy, doll, surger, sweetie boo, his girl, angel,little bear (because you call him your big bear) sweetheart, little petal, and darling

(how does he cuddle you)

(how does he hold your hand)

(when he has bad dreams) he knows he has killed a lot of. People and he knows he would never hurt you but that doesn't stop him from dreaming about that

Dream⬇️the governor saw you on the woods and took you back to woodbury threw you into a cell and left you for days when he came back you barely was alive but he wasn't alone he came back with someone a man who stood looking down at you with petty in his eyes “let it be done “ the governor said walking out if the room and leaving merle with you, merle looked at you pulled out his gun and unlocked the cell door walking in you pulled yourself into a little ball as you started to cry hot tears ran down your cheeks he huffed as you heated the gun click and he pulled the trigger and shot you

After he had this dream he shot up his chest going up and down and he felt tears rolling down his cheeks he waited until the next morning to go around to your house seeing that you were alive and well he made you breakfast in bed

This is a request but merle will be in this book now so if anybody has everyone else they want me to put in this book just go ahead and ask me! 😊

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just-some-random-blogger · 20 days ago

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YOU DIDNT TELL ME YOU HAD OTHER GEORGE FICS I FEEL LIKE I WAS BAITED INTO GETTING INTO ANOTHER WEASLEY FOR NO REASON (I say as if I needed to be baited 🙄🤪)

An enormous Christmas tree hung upside down from the ceiling, decorated in orange, purple, and gold, with handmade ornaments over every branch and popcorn strings strewn around it.

OH! LOVELY not you making me want to rewatch the films (I won't I'm not a fan of reconsumption idk idk idk)

He had a bright purple handkerchief in his hand, the triple W embroidered on the corner.

Willy Wonka aahhh entrance. My beautiful beautiful boy

You knew about the death of his twin, Fred, everyone did, and now he knew your pain as well.

😃 oh. We're doing the death. 😃 Oh 👍

George’s smile widened, a flush creeping up his neck. “Well, ah, that’s really—” he scratched the back of his head, clearly flustered by the revelation. “That’s very kind,” he managed with a breathy chuckle.

“You’re my first priority today,”

Can I be your first priority everyday

At first, he seemed reluctant to talk about products with stories tied to Fred, like prodding a sore wound, but eventually he was telling story after story, grinning and laughing at the memories of their countless antics.

Wow I cannot express how absolutely unnecessary it was to kill Fred. Wow. This is supposed to be cute but 😃 I don't agreeeee 🙅‍♀️ NO MAAM

“Please, just—let me do this for your brother.” George’s eyes held yours, soft around the corners. “It’s what Fred would do.”

MY SHAYLAAAAAAAAA

“Would you want to, uh, maybe get a drink later? Or coffee?” He asked, rubbing the back of his neck, freckled cheeks flushing pink.

GASP. RIZZLER GEORGE. SEE 🫵 YOU'RE OUT HERE LAUGHING WHEN 🫵 YOU CONTRIBUTED TO THE CANON THAT IS RIZZLER!GEORGE

You hadn’t stopped thinking about George for a moment, so wound up that you started getting ready three hours early for a simple ice cream date. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt so giddy, so hopeful.

She so me. Icon

“It was worse when we first reopened the shop.” His thumb swiped back and forth across yours, soothing the irritation itching under your skin. “They would come in just to get a look at me. Like my grief was some kind of spectator sport.”

IM COMING GEORGIE! STAY BACK

(ง •̀_•́)ง(ง •̀_•́)ง(ง •̀_•́)ง(ง •̀_•́)ง(ง •̀_•́)ง(ง •̀_•́)ง(ง •̀_•́)ง(ง •̀_•́)ง(ง •̀_•́)ง(ง •̀_•́)ง(ง •̀_•́)ง(ง •̀_•́)ง(ง •̀_•́)ง(ง •̀_•́)ง(ง •̀_•́)ง(ง •̀_•́)ง(ง •̀_•́)ง

George barked a laugh, his head falling back with the force of it, and you smiled. “Better, I suppose.”

... 🧍‍♀️ Miss ma'am what is the context of this I must have been hella cute ANYWAY IT IS I CAN SEE HIM LAUGHIN--- OH FUCK I REMEMBER NO IT IS HE TURNED WHATSHERFACE PURPLE HAHAHAHAHAHAHAH

You ordered your bowls of ice cream, Peppermint Marshmallow Mayhem for George and Gingerbread Dreams for you, and sat at a corner booth by the window, talking about nothing in particular for awhile while you ate.

Damn are those actual flavors in the series or did u just think of them. Slayed. Loathe to eat either tho HAHAAHA

“Good, I’m really glad to hear that. Now, let me try your ice cream.” He waggled his spoon and you laughed, sliding it towards him. He took the tiniest spoonful, flipping it over to lick it off, and your cheeks warmed at the way his tongue caressed the curve of the spoon.

?????? HELLO????. #1 ☝️ idc if ur brother died in not sharing my ice cream (JK JK WE COULD SHARE DNA AND MAKE A BABY I LOVE YOU) #2 ✌️ *inhale* WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-

“Can you blame me? I’m sitting across from my dream woman,” he replied, grinning.

Case in point. Rizzler!George

Sugary peppermint and creamy marshmallow coated your tongue, and you moaned.

????? QUEEEE MAMACITA???? MOANED I mean sure but like??? IN FRONT OF GEORGE IS CRAZY (I understand you)

“I’ve been wanting to kiss you since I saw you watching the carolers,” he murmured, sliding his glove off and reaching out to cradle your face, his touch gentle, giving you every opportunity to pull away.

🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵RIZZLER!GEORGE WHAT ARE YOU ON ABOUT COME HERE GIMME KITH

He loosed a pleased hum, leaning forward to capture your lips in another, slower kiss. “Like hearin’ you call me baby,” he mumbled against your mouth.

I'll give you a baby

But then he withdrew what appeared to be a toy airplane that would in no way, shape, or form fit in that pocket without magic. Your brothers face lit up when George threw it in the air and it started to fly, ducking and whizzing around the room.

He pulled out a bouncing ball, then a rubber chicken, a set of chattering teeth, a stuffed teddy bear. Item after item came out of his pockets until your brothers bed was covered in toys and gag items, and a dozen nurses were watching in amazement from the hallway. You and your mom were fighting through silent tears, your heart so big you felt it might explode out of your chest.

I would NAWT be silently sobbing. I would be on the floor bawling

Most importantly, your brother was ecstatic, playing with this and that and chattering away at George about the different products and teaching him how to do magic tricks George himself had invented.

THEE George Weasely 😫😫😫😫😫😫😫😫😫😫❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹 lil bro will freak if they ever have a genetic collaboration (if he lives that long)

“I miss him,” George gasped like he was in pain, his grip almost bruising around your body.

🫵you🫵 meet me outside. Send your location. I just want to talk. Shhh shhhh don't fight it (fiGHT ME)

Id give you a 10/10 but you killed Fred so 0/10 I'm sorry I don't make the rules. Idc if this got me geeking. YOU KNOW WHAT ACTUALLY FINE YOU CAN HAVE 10/10 YOU MADE ME FEEL NOTHING. I FEEL NOTHING

A Christmas Gift | G.W.

“That's what happens when you love someone,” George replied, smiling. “You want to protect them from anything that might hurt them, even if you know you can't.”

feat. George Weasley x fem!reader

SUMMARY: You go to Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes to pick out a Christmas gift for your ailing little brother, who adored the shop (and the twins) before he became too ill to go. You find a gift and so much more than you ever dreamed of.

CW: this is really emotional, i’m sorry, but i pinky promise that it has a happyish ending. fred is dead, grief, hurt/comfort, hospital visits, sick sibling/children, some swearing, but also some fun and lightheartedness, plenty of christmasy fluff, first kisses

AN: last Christmas fic of the season!

The early morning snow buffeted at your back as you stepped into Weasely Wizard Wheezes. The store had just opened, you saw someone turn the sign as you finished your breakfast at the Three Broomsticks, but you wanted to beat the holiday rush so you could really take your time.

The smell of cinnamon and woodsmoke, plastic toys and what could only be described as joy, welcomed you inside. An enormous Christmas tree hung upside down from the ceiling, decorated in orange, purple, and gold, with handmade ornaments over every branch and popcorn strings strewn around it. Every shelf was stocked and festively decorated, and soft Christmas music played from the speakers.

You stopped in the doorway, tears welling in your eyes. Your brother would love this. You had hoped that he’d be having a good day today, that maybe, by some miracle, he’d be well enough to come with you. But he’d spiked a fever late last night, and was going in for some imaging today to ensure he hadn’t caught pneumonia…again.

“Morning,” a voice called to you, and you looked up, hastily wiping tears on your sleeve. George Weasley, a man you’d never met but would recognize anywhere, was halfway down the spiral staircase, a cup of coffee in hand. He was dressed in the iconic pinstripe suit, his copper hair a little longer than the last time you’d seen him two years prior, not that he’d remember.

The only reason you remembered was because of your brothers obsession with the Weasley twins. He’d asked to have his hair cut and dyed orange that same afternoon.

More tears welled up, and you cursed yourself, turning away to hide your face. “I’m sorry,” you sniffled, trying to take a deep breath. “I promise I’m not insane.”

You heard him move the rest of the way down the stairs, then approach you, his tall frame taking him across the store in a few strides. He had a bright purple handkerchief in his hand, the triple W embroidered on the corner.

“That’s okay, we like a little insanity around here. What’s your name?” he asked, his voice soft.

“Y/n.” You accepted the handkerchief with a watery smile and dabbed your eyes.

“George. Are you alright, y/n?” he asked.

You sighed, twisting the fabric in your hands. “The holiday’s are just hard.”

He nodded, his jaw flexing, eyes averting from your face to the floor. “Yeah,” he said, his voice rougher than it had been a moment before. You noticed then the dark circles under his eyes, the air of heaviness around his shoulders. “Can I help you find something?” he asked, pivoting quickly.

“Yes, actually. I’m, uh, looking for a gift for my little brother. But he—it has to be something he can play with in bed. Nothing too loud or messy.” Your heart ached as you said it, knowing he would actually love something loud, messy, destructive, as little boys do, but such things weren’t allowed at St. Mungo’s.

George raised an eyebrow. “Strict parents?”

You shook your head, swallowing around the lump in your throat. “He’s in hospital,” you murmured, hating saying the words aloud.

George’s face fell. “Oh—Merlin, I’m really sorry.”

A flicker of understanding passed between you, your broken hearts beating at the same rhythm for a moment. You knew about the death of his twin, Fred, everyone did, and now he knew your pain as well. That knowledge weaved an invisible string of connection between you, forged in empathy.

“We can absolutely find something for him,” George said, his voice painfully sincere. He offered you his arm and you accepted, needing a bit of steadiness. “What kind of things does he like?”

You started to walk through the store, looking around the towering shelves, at a bit of a loss. “Well, he loves Whizz-bangs, and your Pyrotechtrix.”

George smiled, chuckling to himself. “Fun, but not exactly suitable for a hospital.”

“Exactly. But honestly, anything you recommended, he’d absolutely adore, so long as I told him you recommended it.”

“Oh yeah?” George raised an eyebrow, glancing down at you.

Saints, he’s handsome.

“Yeah, he’s a big fan. He used to beg us to stop in every time we came to Diagon Alley so he could watch your demonstrations.”

The door jingled as another customer came in and you tensed, George’s eye flicking towards the new customer, then back down to you.

You moved to slip your arm from his. “I can look around, you go ahead—”

“Oi, Ron!” George shouted, a hand cupped around his mouth, his arm tightening around yours so you stayed put.

“What? I’m sorting inventory!” Ron Weasley shouted back, appearing from the back of the store with arms full of boxes. His eyes quickly scanned over you, your joined arms, then back to George, who was nodding his head towards the door. “Welcome to Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes!” Ron turned greeted the customer, dropping the boxes where he stood.

You chuckled, leaning a bit closer to George, grateful that he didn’t abandon you.

“You’re my first priority today,” he murmured to you, close enough that you could smell his amber cologne, and you felt your anxiety unspool for the first time in weeks. For this one thing, this small, Christmas gift hunt, you weren’t alone.

You spent the rest of the morning with George, wandering through aisle after aisle as he talked you through every product you showed an interest in. At first, he seemed reluctant to talk about products with stories tied to Fred, like prodding a sore wound, but eventually he was telling story after story, grinning and laughing at the memories of their countless antics.

He encouraged you to share about your brother as well, and by the end, you were both in stitches from laughing, cheeks sore and eyes watery with tears. It warmed your heart to see him light up at the his brother’s memory, to see the love between them still very much burning, and soothed a bit of your fear.

No matter what happened, the love and the memories would remain.

You finally settled on an Aviatomobile and a few muggle magic tricks, nothing explosive, sticky, or illness-causing. George carried the items to the counter, setting them gently on surface, but hesitated when he reached for the register.

He turned, grabbing a gift box from beneath the counter. Carefully, he wrapped each item in branded tissue paper and nestled them into the box, then rearranged them once, then twice, before finally placing the lid and tying an orange bow around it. Then, he grabbed one of the paper ornaments from the counter, where kids could write little messages or drawings to hang on the gravity-defying Christmas tree, and scribbled something on it before securing it to the bow.

“There we go,” he said, pushing it towards you with a sheepish smile.

You reached for you wallet. “How much do I—”

He shook his head, waving you off. “It’s on me. Least I can do for an avid supporter.”

Tears burned behind your eyes again, caught off guard by his generosity. “George, I can’t—”

“Please, just—let me do this for your brother.” George’s eyes held yours, soft around the corners. “It’s what Fred would do.”

You nodded, unable to speak through the lump in your throat.

“Would you want to, uh, maybe get a drink later? Or coffee?” He asked, rubbing the back of his neck, freckled cheeks flushing pink.

You smiled, your heart flipping in your chest. “I’d love to. We could get ice cream at Fortescue's?” You offered.

He smiled back. “Perfect. 7 o’clock?”

“Perfect,” you repeated, fighting a nervous giggle. “I’ll see you later, then.” You hefted the box in your arms and waved goodbye, hurrying out before you said anything embarrassing, or melted into a puddle of goo on the floor.

Halfway down the street, you finally glanced at the paper ornament George attached to the gift.

Sorry, mate. No explosive’s. Sister’s orders. But I’ve got a stash in the back waiting for you when you’re ready. Merry Christmas. - GW

You were fizzing with excitement as you approached the ice cream shop, a soft flurry of snowflakes dancing int the twinkle lights strew across Diagon Alley. Vendors were at every corner, selling steaming beverages, candied nuts, and fried dough. Shoppers wandered from glowing door to glowing door, bundled in thick coats and arms laden with bags. A choir sang Christmas carols on the steps of Gringotts, toads wearing Santa hats cradled in their arms, and you paused to listen while they sang “Carol of the Bells”, trying to collect your scattered mind.

“I like this song,” a familiar voice murmured in your ear and you looked up, finding George standing beside you watching the carolers, the lights reflecting in his brown eyes. He was dressed in a brown wool coat with a Gryffindor scarf around his neck, a white, cable knit sweater and jeans underneath, patches on the knees.

“Me too,” you replied, biting your lips to stop the grin threatening to rise. “How was your day?”

“Chaos. I left Ron to deal with the stragglers. We were supposed to close around six…” he trailed off, his eyes catching on a group of wizards. You followed his eye, and were appalled to find them muttering and pointing at him. And when you looked around, you noticed several groups were doing the same.

Instinctively, you moved closer to him, as if you could shield him somehow.

His fingers twined with yours, warm and calloused. “It’s alright,” he said, turning you to face him. “M’used to it.”

“It’s not alright,” you said, raising your voice and directing a pointed glare at the noisy folks. “It’s rude!”

He chuckled, tugging you away from the carolers. “Easy, love. It doesn’t bother me much anymore. Don’t give them any of your attention.”

You sighed, falling into step beside him, hands still clasped together. “I’m sorry they treat you like that,” you said, glaring daggers at anyone that even glanced in his direction while you walked towards Fortescue's.

“I can’t imagine having that kind of loss broadcast to the entire world,” you said, glancing at a newspaper stand plastered in the Daily Prophet.

“It’s inhumane,” he replied, stopping in front of the ice cream shop. “But, I’m grateful for it too.”

You raised an eyebrow, facing him in the warm glow of the window.

“Everyone knows how amazing he was,” he murmured, his voice thickening with emotion. He looked down at your joined hands, playing with your fingers. “He’s a hero.”

You squeezed his hand, prompting him to look up at you. “So are you, George," you said, inflecting as much sincerity as you could into your voice. "Y’know, I was there that day, when you and Fred left Hogwarts?”

His eyes widened. “You were?”

You nodded. “I was two years under you, we wouldn’t have crossed paths,” you said, trying to assuage the needless guilt that crossed his face. “But I’ll never forget that moment, watching you guys reclaim the magic that makes Hogwarts, well, Hogwarts. You inspired all of us left behind.”

He gave you a sad smile, his eyes shiny with unshed tears, and brought your knuckles to his lips, brushing a kiss across them. “Thank you for telling me that,” he whispered. “You didn’t get burned, did you?” He asked, worry suddenly creasing his brow.

You giggled. “No, no. No one was hurt besides Umbridge's ego.”

He exhaled, flashing a relieved smile. “Okay, good. Because that would have been a terrible first impression.” He opened the door to the ice cream shop, gesturing for you to step inside.

“My first impression was when you turned Ms. Norris purple during the Halloween feast,” you said, stepping past him and into line, the smell of waffle cones and caramel wafting over you.

George barked a laugh, his head falling back with the force of it, and you smiled. “Better, I suppose.”

“It’s not like I made a great first impression on you, weeping like a sap as soon as I stepped into your store,” you joked, too busy gazing up at his smiling face to notice the line move forward without you.

He shook his head, still chuckling. “No, it was a perfect first impression.”

“So, how’s your brother doing today? You mentioned he had some imaging this afternoon?” George asked, genuine concern creasing his brow.

“He’s doing well, actually. No pneumonia, by Godric’s grace, and his fever broke this afternoon. Still not sure what caused it, but hopefully nothing of concern,” you answered, you heart lifting at his relieved smile.

You knew you were caught when he smirked around the utensil, but he let it slide.

“Here, try mine.” He dug a spoonful out of his bowl, holding it out for you to take a bite with a borderline sinful look in his eye.

“George Weasley,” you teased, shaking your head. “You are such a flirt.”

“Can you blame me? I’m sitting across from my dream woman,” he replied, grinning.

Now your cheeks were really warming, and you leaned forward to take a small bite off the edge of his spoon. Sugary peppermint and creamy marshmallow coated your tongue, and you moaned.

“Good?” he asked, raising a brow.

“Delicious,” you giggled, watching as he ate the rest of the spoonful, and wondered how it would taste on his tongue.

After ice cream, you continued wandering around Diagon Alley, peeking in all the shop windows and sipping warm butter beer, until your noses were pink from the chill, your hair full of glittering snow.

You stopped outside of his shop, the sign flipped to ‘closed’ and only a few lights on inside along with the exterior holiday decor, presumably left on for George.

“I have a confession to make,” he said, stepping a little closer to you.

Your heart pounded in your chest, a thrill of excitement pulsing through you. “What?” You asked, picking invisible lint of his lapel just to have something to do with your hands.

You leaned your head into his large palm, gazing up at him, freckled, flushed, and starry-eyed. You’d never seen someone look at you with adoration before, and it made your soul sing.

Instead of saying anything, you rose onto your toes and pressed your lips to his, a quick, airy peck. But when you went to move back, his hand held you in place, lips just barely touching.

“Again,” he breathed, his other hand coming around to rest on your lower back. “Please?”

You gave the tiniest nod, feeling like your heart might burst out of your chest, and his lips connected with yours again in a slow, languid kiss, the taste of ice cream and butter beer and him making your head go a little fuzzy, your right foot popping up behind you as you leaned into his embrace.

His tongue caressed the seam of your mouth, but he didn’t push further, just a small tease before winding the kiss down until it ended the way it started, with a few barely-there pecks in reluctant departure.

You sighed against him, lowering back onto flat feet, and he smiled, drawing you into his chest for hug. You slipped you arms under his coat, feeling the softness of his sweater and the warmth of his body envelop you.

“Thank you for this,” you murmured. “I really, really needed it.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his arms tight around your body. “So did I. Can we do it again tomorrow? Breakfast? Sunrise picnic?”

You chuckled, tilting your chin up to rest on his sternum. “Breakfast sounds great.”

George beamed, dropping a warm kiss to the frozen tip of your nose. “I’ll pick you up at nine?”

“It’s a date.” You stole one last kiss before slipping away, practically skipping.

You and George saw each other every day for the next week, whether it was to wander around Diagon Alley, looking at the lights and festivities, or grabbing a quick cup of tea between busy shifts. Neither of you could stand being apart for more than a few hours at a time.

Tonight, George invited you to his flat for dinner and muggle Christmas films, and you were dressed in the ugliest Christmas sweater you could find. With a timid hand, you knocked on his door.

It opened under you fist, revealing George on the other side, wearing a maroon sweater with a giant ‘G’ on the front of it and a sauce splattered apron.

“Hey, love.” He tugged you inside, pressing an eager kiss to your lips before ushering you down the hall, his deft fingers unraveling your scarf from your neck and peeling the coat from your shoulders. You laughed at his haste, spinning and hopping as he removed your boots. He stopped only when he finally saw your sweater. “Oh, darling. You look ravishing.” His hands fell to your waist and he pulled you into his chest, a mischievous grin on his face. “Very fashion forward.”

“Thank you, baby,” you giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck. You hadn’t called him that before, but it just rolled right off your tongue, natural as breathing.

He loosed a pleased hum, leaning forward to capture your lips in another, slower kiss. “Like hearin’ you call me baby,” he mumbled against your mouth.

The oven beeped loudly, startling you both.

“Hungry?” He asked with a shy smile.

“Starved.”

He showed you to the dining room, a round table with a vase of flowers at the center, candles strewn on every surface. He pulled a chair out for you and you sat, accepting a kiss on the cheek before he dashed back into the kitchen.

You looked around, having been too caught up in his frantic greeting to take in the space. The rest of the flat was sparsely decorated, purely functional, besides a sagging bookshelf in the living room, and a few photos along the hallway. Not a Christmas decoration was in sight.

George returned with two glasses of wine, the bottle tucked under his arm. “Here we go, a little Pinot Noir for my gorgeous girl.” He set the glasses down then finally sat down in his chair.

“Thank you, baby,” you teased, and he smirked, withdrawing his wand from his apron and waving it towards the kitchen. A moment later, a giant bowl full of pasta, a basket of bread, a salad bowl, and two plates came hovering out of the kitchen, arranging themselves neatly on the table.

“Bon appetite.” He raised his wine glass, a shy little smile on his face, and you raised yours to cheers, so charmed you could cry.

Two hours later, you were curled up on George’s couch, half enjoying Home Alone, half enjoying the feel of each other’s skin under your sweaters, the rich taste of wine on each other’s tongues.

“How come you haven't decorated for Christmas?” You mumbled between languid pecks, his soft lips moving to trail over your jaw.

“Didn't much feel like celebrating this year,” he replied, kissing down your neck, his tongue tracing your pulse.

“And yet here we are, watching corny holiday films,” you chuckled and felt him smile against your neck.

“Things changed.” He lifted his head, capturing your lips in a heavy, open-mouthed kiss that made your blood warm, your heart beat a little quicker in your chest.

Suddenly, something slammed against the window, a frantic scrabbling against glass that had George springing up like something electrocuted him.

“Errol?” George moved toward the window. “No, what the fuck—”

“Oh my god, what are you doing here?!” You cried, jumping up and throwing open the window. Your family owl flew in, landing on the back of the couch. Fear pumped through you and you snatched the letter from his beak, rougher than the poor bird deserved in your panic.

“What is it?” George rested his hands on your hips as you tore it open.

The words on the card made your heart stop.

Mungo’s now, Mum

“George,” you whimpered, sagging against him as terror rocked through you.

He took the letter from your hand and skimmed it. “Go get your coat on, I’ll take you.”

“I—” You were frozen, darkness pulsing at the edges of your vision.

His hands came up to hold your face, shaking you gently. “Honey, we have to go. I’m going to be right here with you, okay? We’re going together. But we have to move now.”

You nodded, clawing through the sludge of fear and clinging to the thread of stability he offered. He helped you into your coat and shooed the owl out, not even bothering to lock up before he was ushering you into his chest.

“Hold onto me,” he ordered, and you did, and suddenly the world was sucked away, a dizzying, horrible tornado of space, and then it spit you back out on the front steps of St. Mungo’s.

“Holy shit,” you gagged, clutching onto George and he held you upright.

“Sorry, love. Never apparated before?” He asked, rubbing your back.

You shook your head.

“Y/n!”

George stiffened, his hands tightening on you, and you looked up.

“Mum!” You cried, rushing to her.

“Oh, hun. I’m sorry to frighten you, he’s okay. Just a scare. I’m so sorry, darling,” she cried, clinging to you.

“Sh, no, it’s alright. I should be here,” you soothed, squeezing your eyes shut to stop the tears from falling. “What happened?”

“He couldn’t breathe, his lungs—pneumonia again,” your mom hiccuped, wiping at her cheeks. “Who’s that?” She asked, looking over your shoulder.

George was were you had left him, hands stuffed in his pockets, his eyes bouncing from you and your mom to the strangers mingling on the sidewalk. You could tell his hackles were raised, some protective instinct roused when he’d been startled by the owl.

You waved him over. “Mum, this is George Weasley. George, this is my mum.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” George said, offering her a hand and a shy smile.

She clutched his hand hard and you both winced. “I-you-Weasley—The George Weasley?” She gasped.

“Just George is fine,” he said with a nervous chuckle.

“Oh my, I just can't believe—”

“Mum, can we go see him now?” You interrupted, anxious to see that he was well yourself. “I promise you'll have a proper introduction later.”

“Yes, of course. This way.” She released George and grabbed your hand, pulling you towards the hospital.

George hesitated, until you reached your hand out to him. He immediately threaded your fingers together, falling into step with your frantic mother.

A few moments later, you rushed into your brother's room, finding him upright and smiling, some new tubes in his little nose, but all together looking well.

“Mum, I said to leave her alone!” He argued, crossing his arms over his reindeer pj's.

“Hush you,” you scolded lightly, wrapping him up in a hug and kissing his forehead, noting his lingering fever. “How are you feeling, darling?” You asked, pulling back to hold his face.

“M'okay. They let me have some ice lollies earlier!” He chirped, sticking out his neon blue tongue.

You grinned. “I see, that's excellent.”

He opened his mouth to say something else, but then you saw his eyes widen, mouth falling open in shock. You turned to see what he was looking at and realized it was George, who was loitering in the doorway.

“Is that—” your brother started, and George looked up. “Wizard—Wizard Wheezes!”

George’s solemn expression shattered into a wide smile as he stepped into the room, his energy shifting instantly. “Hello, mate! I’m George. Heard your not feeling so good?” George reached out to shake his little hand, and he took it, his fingers dwarfed by George's palm.

“No, no. I'm fine!” Your brother replied, shock melting into excitement. “What are you doing here?”

George glanced down at you. “Your sister has been telling me all about you, and how strong you've been lately,” he said, crouching down beside the bed. “She loves you a lot, y’know?”

You stepped out of the way, tears starting to burn behind your eyes. Your mother slipped her hand into yours, watching the interaction with a hand pressed to her mouth.

“I know, but she worries too much,” your brother answered, and George burst out laughing.

“That's what happens when you love someone,” George replied, smiling. “You want to protect them from anything that might hurt them, even if you know you can't.”

“I’m big like you, I don't need protecting!” He argued.

George nodded, pressing a hand to his chest apologetically. “I can tell. But that doesn't mean they don't want to try anyways. And big guys like us have to protect them in return, yeah?”

Your brother nodded, puffing up his chest. “I'll never let anything happen to my sister. I promise!”

You blew him a kiss, and George gave him a high five.

“That's my buddy. Now, let's see if I've got anything special for heroes like you.” George fished around in his pocket, making dramatic faces while he rummaged in what you thought was an empty pocket.

“Hm, that wasn't what I was looking for,” George said with a dramatic frown, and you giggled. He glanced over his shoulder at you, breaking his frown to smirk at your reaction, and started fishing around in his pockets again.

Most importantly, your brother was ecstatic, playing with this and that and chattering away at George about the different products and teaching him how to do magic tricks George himself had invented.

But half an hour later, your brother’s nurse came in to administer some of his medication and get him ready for bed. He tried to protest, but his new best friend, George, managed to talk him into not only compliance, but eager acceptance of his medicine.

You stole George away into the now quiet hall, Christmas lights illuminating the dark corridor, and threw your arms around his shoulders, burying your face into his neck, needing to feel him close, to ground you through the onslaught of emotions.

He wrapped his arms around you, his head turning to kiss your temple. “Need some air?” He murmured, and you shook your head no.

“Just need you,” you whispered, holding him tighter.

He let you cry into his shoulder, rubbing soothing circles onto your back and murmuring reassurances into your hair. When you'd exhausted yourself, you pulled back and he reached up to hold your face, wiping your tears with his thumbs.

“Thank you for doing that,” you sniffled, sliding your hands down his chest, his sweater soft beneath your palms.

“It was my pleasure, love,” he replied, looking you in the eye. “You—him—this, I needed this. Needed you,” he breathed, voice tightening. “I forgot why we did it all, what all the sacrifices were for, and you reminded me. He reminded me.”

You rose on your toes to press a kiss to his lips, not knowing how else to express how you were feeling that wasn't, well, insanely soon.

He kissed you back, passionate enough to steal your breath, but released you when the door to your brother's room opened.

“Darling—oh, I'm sorry. Darling, would you like to come get a cup of coffee with me?” Your mother asked, clearly fighting a grin at discovering you.

“Sure, mum,” you exhaled, reluctantly stepping away from George. “You okay for a minute?”

“Absolutely, I'll keep an eye on him.” He pressed a kiss to your knuckles before releasing you to your mother, a soft smile on his face.

When you returned twenty minutes later, you found George stretched out in the arm chair pulled up right next to your brother’s bed, Rudolph on the television.

“—Fred managed to get the deer into the kitchen with some carrots and loaf of banana bread, and kept him distracted while I tied bells and ornaments—mom’s favorite’s, of course—to it’s antlers.”

Your brother was giggling, curled up with the stuffed bear George conjured earlier, his eyes heavy as he fought to stay awake to hear the story.

“But then we ran out of banana bread and Fred tried to give it some cookies, but by then the deer had discovered the Christmas tree in the corner, with the popcorn strings and cranberries and salt dough ornaments, y’know? So the deer started eating the bloody Christmas tree and we cannot get it out of the house now. It’s found the best sodding snack on earth. So by the time my mom get’s home, half the tree is gone, there’s shi—dirt all over the house, dishes are broken, holes in the walls—”

“What did she do?” Your mom asked, laughing. “I would have sent you out to live with the deer and it’s family.”

George grinned. “We ate nothing but carrots and banana bread for a week. Even for Christmas dinner. It was torture,” he chuckled, turning back to your brother, only to find him sound asleep. “That boring, huh?” He joked, rising from the chair so your mom could take it. But instead, she pulled him in for a hug, surprising him.

“Thank you for doing this, and I’m so sorry about your brother. But I know he’d be so proud of you today,” she murmured, and you saw George’s eyes well, his jaw flexing as he tried to fight it. Your mom pulled back, pressing a kiss to his cheek, then smoothing away her lipstick with her thumb. “You’re a wonderful, wonderful man, George Weasley. And I’m so glad you’re here.”

He nodded, a tear streaking down his face. “Thank you, ma’am. That’s very k-kind.”

Your mother passed him to you, his hand gripping your tightly as he fought to keep his composure. “Goodnight, mum. I’ll see you in the morning?”

Your mother nodded, waving you away while she kissed your brothers cheek.

You led George out of the room and down the hall, finding an empty room to slip into. As soon as the door closed behind you, he sank to his knees, great, heaving sobs wracking his body. You lowered yourself to the ground with him, pulling his head into your shoulder and rocking him back and forth, his tears soaking through your sweater and shaking your whole body.

“I miss him,” George gasped like he was in pain, his grip almost bruising around your body.

“I know, baby. I know you do,” you said into his hair, holding his head against your chest. Your own tears began to spill then, for him, for you, for your family, and his, and you clung to one another as the overwhelming grief took it’s pound of flesh.

Slowly, he began to settle, breathing labored, but his tears subsiding. He lifted his head, looking at you through tear-brightened eyes, his lashes dark and spiked with moisture. You leaned forward, kissing away the droplets on his cheeks and jaw, until you felt him start to smile.

“I-it’s been so long since I—” he cleared his throat, reaching up to cup your face, wiping away your tears with his thumb. “I was numb for awhile, so long I sort of forgot what anything else felt like. I meant what I said earlier, you reminded me of what I’d lost, but in the best way.” Tears welled up again, but he smiled through them. “He would have been so fucking jealous that I got you. But Merlin, he would have loved you so much.”

You huffed a laugh, lower lip trembling as your heart soared. “George,” was all you could manage, and he leaned forward to kiss you, rising onto his knees and pulling into into his chest.

Then, that wild spinning sensation enveloped you again, and in a blink you were back on his couch, exactly as you were before, the credits to the movie rolling on the screen, your glasses of wine exactly where you left them.

“Stay with me tonight,” he asked, trailing kisses down your neck as you reoriented yourself. “Tomorrow’s Christmas Eve, we could spend it together.” He lifted his head to look you in the eyes, and you nodded eagerly.

“Yeah,” you said, laughing as he rained kisses over your face. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Thank you so much for reading!

I hope you have the most wonderful holiday season and start of the new year <3

#george weasley #weasley twins fanfiction

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the-iceni-bitch · 2 years ago

Note

Hi sweet Natalie! ❤️

Finally worked my last shift before Christmas, so I’m celebrating by sending you some Kinkmas asks 😁❤️

For the first one, I was thinking Dilf!Steve and tattoo artist!reader with the dialogue “it’s bold of you to assume I haven’t eaten my entire advent calendar” ☃️🎄🎅🏼🤶🏼

Hope that you’ve had a great day ❤️

Got this one from @misc-incorporated as well so doubling up!

I can definitely see this taking place during the same Christmas as the previous drabble I did for them…

Steve chuckled when he struggled to get Grant into his PJs, ruffling the toddler’s hair once he finally did up all the snaps and setting him down on the floor so he could waddle off to go find you. The kid squealed when he saw you curled up in front of the fire with a mug of tea in your hands, running to you and screaming “mommy” over and over until you put your cup down and pulled him into your lap so you could kiss his cheeks.

“No cookies, sir, daddy just brushed your teeth.” You winked at Steve when Grant tried to grab one of the sweets off your plate. “Let’s do yours and your sister’s calendars then story time.”

“Hey bug, you all washed up?” Steve hugged Sarah when she skipped into the room, grinning at her when she nodded before sitting next to you and tucking you into his side. “Okay, who’s going first?”

As always, the kids agreed that Molly would go first, making sure she sat patiently while they opened the little compartment and unwrapped her gingerbread man treat for the day. They both wanted to go next though, so you helped Grant unfold the stegosaurus and add it to the dinosaur scene while Steve and Sarah put together the sugarplum fairy.

“It looks good you guys, me next?” Steve grinned and rested his cheek on the top of your head while he reached to pull open the day’s drawer and admired the charcoal pencils that were waiting for him. “Perfect, may have to sketch something tomorrow. Alright, mommy’s turn!”

“No, that’s okay.” You cleared your throat and took an innocent sip of tea, avoiding Steve’s gaze while you scratched Molly’s ears. “Let’s read, go pick a story, kids!”

“Baby, they spent a long time picking out the shortbread calendar I think they…” Steve just snorted when they ran off to pick a book without acknowledging you, shaking his head and kissing your hair while you settled in closer. “Or not. Why don’t you want to open your calendar?”

“Well, Steven.” You tilted your head up to look at him and bit your lip. “You got your pregnant wife twenty-five delicious cookies, it’s incredibly bold of you to assume I haven’t eaten my entire advent calendar. It’s even more incredible that I managed to hold off for ten days.”

“Oh my god, yeah okay.” Steve cupped your cheek affectionately and kissed the tip of your nose, looking to the side when the kids ran back in and taking the book they had chosen. “Forgot how hungry you get when you’re knocked up.”

“Not my fault, it’s your freakishly large babies, and now I have two of… oh!” You jumped a little when you felt a jolt in your belly, grinning when Steve gave you a worried look and grabbing his hand to place it on your stomach. “They’re kicking, a lot! Come feel you guys, your brother and sister are awake.”

ᥴ᥆mᥱ ȷ᥆іᥒ mᥡ 𝖿ᥣᥙ𝖿𝖿mᥲs ᥴᥱᥣᥱᑲrᥲ𝗍і᥆ᥒ!!

#natalie answers #natalie’s fluffmas celebration #goddamn prince charming looking dilf #dilf steve rogers #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers fanfic #chris evans #chris evans character #asks are always open

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skipps-writes-for-gojo-satoru · 4 years ago

Text

Updated 24/6/2021

∞ Oneshots/Scenarios

Trying to wake him but only to be cuddled

Gojo & S/O take Megumi as their son

S/O not used to compliments

Taking pictures of his S/O

S/O Insecure of their relationship

Sees his eyes for the first time

S/O who’s having an anxiety attack

S/O wiping Gojo’s kiss

Gojo wiping S/O’s kiss

Comforting a sad S/O after a mission

S/O wears Gojo’s shirt

S/O makes Gojo eat spicy food

S/O who helps Gojo (MANGA SPOILERS)

Comforting a sad S/O

Comforting a sad S/O 2

Ex to Lovers

Reader most romantic confession

Gojo’s Birthday Fic 2020

Comforting stressed S/O

Geto kidnapping Wife!Reader

Dog!Gojo Satoru x Reader

Comforting childhood bestfriend

Husband material

Flower giving

If only I had somewhere to sit

Mommy kissing Santa Claus

Comforting Gojo

Gojo having a nightmare

Cheering up his S/O

Gojo making reader laugh in a meeting

Clingy in the morning

In the shower

One of These Nights

From Behind

Gojo caught crying

A Taste?

Early Mornings

Gojo & the twins wanting another baby I

Gojo & the twins wanting another baby II

A Promise

Reader getting her period and Gojo notices

Lazy & Affectionate

Telling him you’re pregnant

The Gojo twins visiting Jujutsu HIgh

∞ Headcanons

Engagement Headcanons

Chubby S/O

Gojo turned into a child

F!Short & Strong S/O

Newborn curse reader

Curious childlike reader

S/O who is good at hand to hand combat

Cuddling Headcanons

Pregnancy Headcanons

Reader afraid of rejection

Tall & Strong Cursed Spirit

Suicidal Reader

Long haired reader

Big sister reader

Affectionate S/O

Celebrate reader’s birthday

Toxic lover

What does Gojo Satoru smell like?

Working out

Type of girl Gojo would fall for

Pregnant reader wants to decorate for Christmas

Gojo wanting a baby

Gojo trying to make stotic!reader smile

Gojo Twins #1

M!Strong & Short S/O

S/O memory loss

Popular F!Reader

S/O turns into a child

Shy S/O

S/O protects Gojo

Clumsy S/O

Day off with Gojo

Shopping with Gojo

Valentine’s Day

Insecure skinny S/O

Gojo x Idol!Reader

Agrument with his S/O

Merman!Gojo

∞Skipps Imagines

Why?

My Everything

A Moment

Afternoon Naps

I’ll be here

∞Random Gojou Satoru Headcanons Series

1 2 3

∞ SFW Alphabet

SFW Satoru Gojo Edition

∞ Prompt Event

Fluff # 12 “Could you say that again?” “Were you listening?” “No I was, I just like hearing your voice”

Fluff prompt #26 “You’re really warm.”

Fluff Prompt # 1 “Is that my shirt?” “You mean our shirt?”

Fluff Prompt # 44 “You’re an idiot.” “But I am your idiot.”

Fluff Prompt #19 “ You know, I think my (mother/father/parents) would be proud if I brought (you/him/her/them) home.”

Fluff Prompt #18 “You come here often?” “Well considering I work here, yes” #27 “Are you blushing?”

Fluff Prompt #4 “Kiss me.” & #13 “ I didn’t think it was possible to love someone this much.”

Fluff Prompt #7 “You’re an idiot.” “But you love me.”

Fluff Prompt #10 “Stop moving and let me braid your hair!”

Fluff Prompt #39 “You’re safe now, I’m here.”

Fluff Prompt #9 “You took all the pillows so I’m using you as one.” #26 “You’re really warm.”

Fluff Prompt #31 “I’m never gonna to leave you. I promise” #44 “You’re an idiot. But I am your idiot.”

Fluff Prompt #4 “Kiss me” and General Prompt #17 “Are you jealous?”

Fluff Prompt #30 “I’ve been in-love with you since we were kids.”

Fluff Prompt #16 “Can you just please hold me ?”

Fluff Prompt #7 “ You’re an idiot.” “But you love me.” General #17 “Are you jealous?”

General prompt #46&#48 “Are they really just a "friend”? “I won’t hurt you”

General Prompt #2 “It’s pouring rain, why are you here?” #50 “I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

General Prompt 17 “Are you jealous?”

General Prompt #17 “Are you jealous?” & #25 “She doesn’t belong with him!” “Than who does she belong with?” “with me…”

Angst prompt # 28 “Move out of my way before I make you”

Angst Prompt #12 “Maybe they were right, you never did change.” & #14 “ Don’t you dare walk away from this!”

Angst Prompt #21 “It’s (her,him,they), isn’t it?” & #36 “They warned me about this.” “About what?” “You.”

Angst Prompt #6 “You’re lying to me again. Why can’t you just tell me the truth for once?"

Angst Prompt #47 “ You deserve so much better.” #48 “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t leave.”

Angst Prompt “If you love me please let me go, please…”

∞ Winter Prompt Event

Winter Prompt #1 “What do you mean we’re out of hot chocolate?”

Winter Prompt #2 (Cuddling by the fireplace)

Winter Prompt #13 “Your hands are freezing!”

Winter Prompt #14 “ Aren’t you cold like that?”

Winter Prompt #17 (watching movies under a pile of blankets)

Winter Prompt #18 (snowball fight)

Winter Prompt #22 (kissing in the snow)

Winter Prompt #32 “There’s no way I’m letting you spend Christmas alone.”

Winter Prompt #37 (stuck in a snow storm)

Winter Prompt #38 “ You’re under the mistletoe so stop stalling and just kiss.”

Winter Prompt #43 “What do you mean Santa’s not real?”

Winter Prompt #50 “Those were for Santa!”

Winter Prompt #54 (Winter power outage) Gojo Satoru Edition

Winter Prompt #56 “Shhhh, don’t tell her/him!”

Winter Prompt #60 “I feel like there’s more frosting on you than on the gingerbread.”

Winter Prompt #10 “Where did all this mistletoe come from?” #61 “What are you doing with that mistletoe-oh.” #64 “I guess… this is when we kiss?”

Winter Prompt #65 “No, we’re not getting a puppy for Christmas. Stop. Asking.”

Winter Prompt #66 “ You don’t put marshmallows in your hot chocolate? YOU HEATHEN”

Winter Prompt #68 (Winter Proposal)

Winter Prompt #70 “You’re perfectly welcome to kiss whoever you wa-”

Winter Prompt #72 “Did everyone else come with a date?”

∞Smut Prompt Event (1k Followers Event)

Smut Prompt #21 “You’re bigger than I expected.”

Smut Prompt #54 “ You’re going to regret that, sweetheart.”

Smut Prompt #55 “Were you dreaming about me again?”

Smut Prompt #1 “We’re in public, you know.”

Smut Prompt #3 “Can you help me with this zipper?”

Smut Prompt #28 “Oh god, how can you manage to switch from cute to sexy in under a second?”

Smut Prompt #53 “What do you mean not yet? You can’t expect me not to cum when you’re fucking me so good!”

Smut Prompt #16 “Forget the bed. Let’s fuck right here.”

Smut Prompt #11 “You’re really gonna make me beg for it?”

Smut Prompt #5 “Are you trying to turn me on right now? Because it’s working.”

Smut Prompt #44 “If I have to pull over, you won’t be able to walk for the next week.”

Smut Prompt #46 “You’re not allowed to cum without my permission.”

Smut Prompt #6 “I’d hold on to something it I were you.”

Smut Prompt #27 “Is that a gun in your pocket or are you just pleased to see me?”

Smut Prompt #42 “I know for a fact you’re a lot louder than that.”

Smut Prompt #41 “I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you forget you ever even met that asshole.”

Smut Prompt #39 “ Angel in the streets, freak in the sheets.”

Smut Prompt #15 “Try to keep quiet. We don’t want to get caught.”

Smut Prompt #48 “Holy shit, you’re so fucking sexy like that.”

∞Physical Affection Prompt

Physical Affection Prompt #11 (Back hugs)

Physical Affection Prompt #1 (Pats on the head)

Physical Affection Prompt #9 (Wiping away their tears)

Physical Affection Prompt #18 (Wiping food away from their lips)

Physical Affection Prompt #23 (A hug some might consider too long)

Physical Affection Prompt #7 (Squishing their cheeks)

Physical Affection Prompt #8 (Brushing hands by accident)

Physical Affection Prompt #15 (The biggest warmest hug)

Physical Affection Prompt #13 (Kissing someone’s forehead)

Physical Affection Prompt #6 (Chasing after their lips after they pull away)

Physical Affection Prompt #25 (Playfully biting)

Physical Affection Prompt #4 (A hug after not seeing them for a long time)

Physical Affection Prompt #21 (Accidently knocking your head against their chin)

Physical Affection Prompt #22 (Kissing their cuts/bruises/scratches)

∞Incorrect Jujutsu Kaisen Quotes

#1 #2 #3 #4 #5 #6 #7

∞ Skipps Art

Random Gojo 1

Cat ears for Gojo

Dog Hybrid Gojo

Happy New Year 2021

Mochi Gojo

1k Followers

2k Followers

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojou satoru #gojou satoru x reader #gojo headcanons #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #jjk x reader #jkk imagines #jjk gojo #skipps writes #skipps masterlist

2K notes · View notes

andyet-here-we-are · 4 years ago

Text

I Would Get Into Millions of Accidents Just to See You, Chapter 3 (aka Nurse Geralt AU)

(Check the pinned post for the first two chapters please~)

The next day flows by in a blur for Geralt. He wakes up, takes a shower, prepares a quick but nutritious breakfast for Ciri, and makes oatmeal for himself.

On his way to the hospital, he thinks about Jaskier and wonders if he should call him now. He almost does that, but then he decides against it because he knows that Jaskier is busy having his fourth dream right now probably. It's too early to call him as much as he wants to do so.

His mind wanders on how cute Jaskier sounds when he is sleepy—when he has just woken up.

Cute, but also usually a bit grumpy even though he denies it with every inch of his being.

***

"That shouldn't be legal," is what Geralt thinks when he steps into the hospital room, unable to take his eyes off Jaskier's sleeping figure. "I can't believe I'm supposed to do that. God, have some mercy on me. I love my job, I really do, but it sucks big time sometimes. Why should I suffer this way?"

A moment later, he is well aware of how dramatic he is being, and how hard he frowns, making a source face. It's not like him to act like this at all.

Damn.

"That dramatic son of a flower must be rubbing off on me," annoyed at himself, he mumbles before he coughs as if that alone is enough to wake the musician up.

"Good morning," he tries when Jaskier doesn't wake up and slightly turns to the other side of his bed instead.

"Mr. Pankratz, it's your medicine time."

Jaskier slightly opens his eyes just to look at him this time, and the first thing he mumbles is: "What happened to your ears?" before closing his eyes again.

"What are you talking about?" The nurse questions, checking his ears with his free hand that isn't holding the medicine tray, wondering what he meant by that.

"Are you still asleep?"

"Yes... No. Maybe?" Jaskier mumbles again, half asleep as he rubs his eyes, trying to make sleepiness go away.

"You will have to pick one of them."

The musician opens his eyes after a while and smiles at Geralt.

"Morning. God, what a sight to wake up to."

Geralt must be used at this by now. Because whenever Geralt has to wake him up, no matter how much Jaskier complains at first most of the time, he always utters the same words eventually.

"What a sight to wake up to."

Yet, every time he does that, Geralt's heart flutters in his chest.

"You didn't sound too happy with my ears, though. What was that about?"

"Ah, about that. I had a dream that— promise you won't laugh?"

"Can't do."

"Anyway," Jaskier yawns and explains: "I had a dream that you were an... elf."

"I was a— what?" Geralt laughs.

"Hey! You said you wouldn't laugh!" The musician stares at him like he is ready to kill him.

"I never said that," Geralt forces himself to stop laughing. "Well, that explains everything."

"Shh, stop interrupting me. It's mean."

"Sorry, I'm all ears. Not elf ears, though, sorry to disappoint you."

"Don't sweat it. Bad guys were trying to steal Mrs. Ansley's—who was a fairy, speaking of which—cookie recipe, which was also the key of a parallel universe, somehow. You were trying to protect the recipe, then puff. Some gingerbread men came out of nowhere to help you, but you tried to... eat them? Well, not just tried actually. You managed to eat their leader. Therefore they decided to join the dark side. Can't blame you, though. They looked pretty yummy. I was about to hop on my unicorn for help when you woke me up. A unicorn wearing a pasta costume. Pink pasta costume. Yeah, yeah, I know, that makes no sense, is there even a pink pasta costume?" He asks sleepily, raising an eyebrow. "Also, I had a magical lute, I think."

"You think that your whole dream makes sense, but just the pink pasta costume doesn't?"

"I've never seen a pink pasta costume, so..."

"Oh, sorry, right. I forgot you have seen everything else but that. The elf version of me, alive gingerbreads and all. My bad."

He chuckles at that lightly.

"Still more possible than a pink pasta costume."

"The most ridiculous dream you had this week might be this one so far."

Jaskier seemed to have taken it upon himself to tell Geralt about his dreams. This was the eighth dream he talked about this week, and it wasn't even Friday yet.

"It was like," he opens his arms wide as if he is presenting the name of his new song to the whole world, " 'Geralt and Jaskier in Wonderland' I blame the medicines. And you," he points at the nurse. "I also blame you. For looking like... " he then gestures at everything, "this."

"You blame me?" The other man snorts, amused. "If anything, you should blame yourself for having the wrong dream. Have you ever looked at yourself? You would make a good elf, not me. You are as bea— I mean, anyway, medicine time."

"I am what now? Wait, wait, wait, were you about to call me beautiful?"

"I was about to call you bearable, but then I thought that would be mean."

"I think you were about to call me beautiful, but then you thought 'That wouldn't be professional, you are his nurse,' or something along these lines. Also, that's not even how you start when you're about to say 'bearable' they are not even pronounced the— "

"That's not what happened."

"Nahh, I'm pretty sure that's exactly what happened, but eh, whatever helps you sleep at night, love."

"You're probably thinking you're still in 'Geralt and Jaskier in Wonderland', go back to sleep, you're delusional."

"I am so not! And that would be your problem even if I was. Wanna check my fever?" He says, giving the nurse a once-over, "I feel hot, suddenly."

"Well, that explains why you're delusional, doesn't it?" Geralt teases. "Take your medicine and you will be just fine."

Jaskier sighs and does as he is told.

"Geralt," Jaskier says before Geralt is about to leave, a grin on his face "I think you are 'bearable', too. "

***

Geralt means to call Jaskier.

He really does.

Yet, whenever he is about to call him, something comes up, and eventually, he just accepts that he is going to have to wait for his shift to be over.

For some reason, he doesn't want to call him and get interrupted after a minute.

And he doesn't want to send him a text, because he prefers hearing his angelic voice instead.

So, yeah. He is kind of stuck there for now.

***

Geralt finds Ciri laughing at her own joke as she watches The Office when he gets home, and this reminds him of Jaskier since that's something they both have in common. Once again, he finds himself thinking about the musician.

***

“Shit, it hurts,” Jaskier says, holding his chest.

“Maybe it’s the universe’s way to tell you to stop laughing at your own jokes.”

“Oh shut up, the universe can kiss my ass.”

“Seems like it prefers to kick your ass instead.”

That draws an annoyed laugh out of him, which makes him hiss in pain.

“It wouldn’t send me here if it was trying to kick my ass, Mr. Should Have Been A Model But Became A Nurse For Some Reason.”

“I can't believe you still keep using that silly nickname unironically. Don’t you think that it is a bit long?”

“You may be right. Hmm, I’ll just call you ‘Mr. Handsome Nurse,’ from now on.”

“Please don’t. No.”

“How about just ‘Handsome’ ?”

“Still no.”

“Why not? It’s just a fact. You wouldn’t get mad at someone if they would point at a yellow wall and call it a ‘yellow wall’ would you?”

“That’s not the same thing.”

“I see no differences.”

“Then you better get your eyes checked.”

“Speaking of which—” Jaskier reaches for his scratch book standing on the bedside table “can I borrow your eyes for a second?”

Geralt frowns, wondering what the musician is up to this time.

Jaskier opens his scratch book and stares in his eyes intently for a while and as he scribbles something. "Thanks," he says, "I just needed an accurate model of the stars."

"You know," the nurse shakes his head and answers smoothly: "you could just ask for a mirror."

Geralt can't help but smirk at his open-mouthed speechlessness.

***

He hears a familiar voice singing, and for a moment he is sure that he has finally gone insane.

Drying his hands on a washcloth, Geralt makes his way to the source of the voice, thinking "That must how Jerry feels when he follows the smell of a piece of cheese Tom tries to fool him with."

Jaskier's voice is irresistible to him, just like how cheese is irresistible to Jerry.

Absolutely irresistible, and hard to miss.

He could distinguish Jaskier's voice among all the rest if he heard it in a room filled with millions of men singing a song together.

This voice is coming from their living room. To be more specific, from Ciri's laptop—which she was supposed to use for searching her homework topic, but that can wait for now—

"Or I shall die," he hears Jaskier singing oh so sincerely and dramatically "or I shall die!"

"Dad! Please don't be mad, I swear to God I was going to start doing my homework, but—"

The first thing he does when he sits on the couch next to his daughter is grabbing the laptop and rewinding the video to the start. He then checks if the volume is at maximum.

"Shhh," he gestures, all of his attention is on the video he is watching.

He doesn't even realize that he takes a deep breath as soon as he sees the musician's face appear in front of him on the screen before Jaskier even starts singing.

He is as beautiful as ever in his ridiculous mint green shirt that he left the first four buttons undone.

It has cactus patterns on it.

Geralt can't help but wonder if Jaskier wearing this shirt is actually some kind of a secret message to him and him only.

Didn't he say that Geralt was just like a cactus?

"...prickly on the outside sometimes, but soft on the inside? A cactus in the desert.”

His words. Not Geralt's.

What does that even mean then? Something like "I wanna wear you on me like a shirt?"

Okay, he should probably stop because he is reading too much into this and—

"Anyway, so, this song goes to the cruel man who made me want to buy this shirt because it reminded me of him. You know who you are,"

Geralt's breath hitches.

He is not reading too much into this.

If anything, it's vice versa, because Jaskier dedicated a song to him.

Jaskier is thinking about him, too.

Thinking about him too much that he has decided he should dedicate a song to him.

The scene splits into five and one of the boxes on the screen shows Jaskier playing the piano, while in the other he plays the lute occasionally, violin in another one, and accordion in the other one. And in the other, he sings.

Good God. Is there anything this man cannot do?—Besides picking names for babies maybe, since picking names is definitely isn't his strong suit.—

"I tell myself what's done is done

I tell myself don't be a fool

Play the field have a lot of fun

It's easy when you play it cool"

"Does this mean he gave up on me because he got fed up with waiting for my call?" he thinks. But then again, why would he sing a song for him if he gave up?

While watching the video, Geralt is well aware of the fact that he will watch this video again and again and will take special care of each Jaskier— making sure not to miss even the tiniest of the mimic and gesture he does.

"I tell myself don't be a chump

Who cares, let him stay away

That's when the phone rings and I jump

And as I grab the phone I pray

Let it please be him, oh dear God

It must be him or I shall die

Or I shall die"

He was right, this isn't a song that screams: "I'm giving up." Thank God it isn't. Jaskier puts his hand on his chest as he sings, and Ciri sighs next to Geralt, resting her head on his shoulder as she watches the video with him.

"Oh hello, hello my dear God

It must be him but it's not him

And then I die

That's when I die"

That dramatic son of a flower actually flings himself into an armchair.

"After a while, I'm myself again

I take the pieces off the floor

Put my heart on the shelf again

You'll never hurt me anymore"

While he sings the "put my heart on the shelf again" he puts a heart sculpture on his bookshelf with a serious look and frown on his face. He might have got this heart sculpture just for this video for all Geralt knows.

"I'm not a puppet on a string,"

At this point, Geralt wouldn't be surprised to see actual strings attached to the musician's body just so he could cut the strings. He really wouldn’t be surprised, at all.

Because Jaskier is that extra most of the time.

And Geralt loves that about him.

"I'll find somebody else someday

That's when the phone rings, and once again

I start to pray

Let it please be him, oh dear God

It must be him, it must be him

or I shall die, or I shall die"

The musician's voice goes up effortlessly into an unreachable octave as he sings the last part, and it's impossible not to be impressed.

But then again, the man puts his heart into everything he does, therefore even doing something like folding a simple frog origami seems impressive when he is the one who's doing it, let alone singing as perfectly as this.

He then slowly walks towards the camera as the other boxes disappear and that one takes over the screen.

"Seriously though," he makes an aggressive 'call me' gesture, and the scene fades to black after that.

"Whoever keeps Jaskier waiting must be crazy," Ciri comments and gave a snort of disapproval and frustration. "He must care about this idiot of a guy a lot if he sings for him like this. What a jabroni. It would take him only a minute to call him."

"Ciri!"

"What? I'm right."

"That's not a nice thing to say," Geralt warns as he hands the laptop back to his daughter.

"I'm surprised that you watched the full thing, by the way. Actually, you don't seem too annoyed with me watching his videos nowadays, and you seemed quite interested in this one."

"I just love Vikki Carr," Geralt says. He has seen the title of the video, after all, so he knew this was a cover of her song. "I've wondered how he sang this song."

"Name five Vikki Carr songs then."

Geralt doesn't know five Vikki Carr songs— he can't even name two, let alone five.

"Okay, I think that's enough fun for you today," the nurse pretends not to have heard his daughter. "Do your homework while I go out to get some milk."

"We have milk at home."

"No, we don't."

"I put it in the fridge myself just this morning, so yeah, we do."

"We're out of these cookies you love, though."

"I thought you said they consumed way too much sugar so we were going to come up with a healthy and as I've read from your invisible subtitles, also probably boring recipe we can make together this weekend?"

"I— God, you ask a lot of questions today." Geralt whispers tiredly, pinching the bridge of his nose and letting Ciri's "boring recipe" comment slide.

Fuck him for not saying "I'm gonna go get some groceries," instead.

"I just asked one question, but okay. So? You changed your mind?"

"Yeah, I changed my mind, just for one more week, you can have it."

"Really?! Thanks!"

"Anything you want, pumpkin. Alright, I'm off!"

Geralt ruffles her hair before he grabs his wallet, keys, and most importantly, his phone.

Just before he closes the door, he can hear Jaskier's voice coming from the living room once again.

He cannot blame Ciri at all.

***

"If this is another spam call and not the important call I've been waiting for I swear on all my lute strings that I'll crush that damn phone on the ground and dance upon its bloody ruins! Actually, no, wait, that would mean the possibility of missing the call I've been waiting for, but you got my point."

As soon as Jaskier answers his call and starts talking, he feels like all the tiredness of the day disappears. Jaskier's voice manages to do that even when he is simply busy telling him off, having no idea who he is talking to.

He can see that Ciri was right. He is an idiot for waiting for the right time.

"I'm seriously so sick of—"

Geralt finally cuts him off by saying: "Wow, I wouldn't wanna be a scammer or something right now, you aggressive Dandelion."

"Wait a second, this voice— Geralt?! Is that really you? Oh my God, you finally ca— I mean—"

Jaskier coughs as if he tries not to sound too excited, "Heey, the best nurse in the existence," Geralt can almost see his flirty frowning, yes, he manages to make even frowning look flirty for crying out loud, "How's it hanging?" he asks, his voice sounds deep, lazy, and dare he say, sensual.

"I should be asking you the same question. Are you still praying by the phone?"

"Someone does stalk me on social media, I see."

"And someone sings a song and makes a pretty impressive video clip for me, I see. My daughter was watching it, and that's how I found out about it. Just for your information."

"So you're not the one who stalks me online. It's Ciri," Jaskier says, and the fact that he remembers Ciri's name warms up Geralt's heart if he's being honest. "Sweet. Cool. Cool. I'm not hurt by that at all."

"Well..."

"Would you die if you let me be happy for just a moment? Not that I'm not happy to know that your daughter still watches my videos, but it would be nice to hear that you were the one who checked my account willingly."

"I'm sure I would see your video today anyway. Maybe it wouldn't be that soon, I admit, but I would see it."

"Is that so?"

"It is so."

Silence.

But it isn't an uncomfortable one.

"Did you really find it impressive?" Jaskier asks, his voice is full of hope and happiness.

"Well—"

"Nah, I know it's impressive, forget that I asked," he lets out a long sigh, "If I knew making a video clip for you would make you call me right away, I would do that earlier. Were you playing 'hard to get' or something? You know... I find it kinda cruel to make someone who just got out of the hospital keep waiting on the phone for so long. For your information, that 'kinda' is kinda unnecessary here maybe. I call it 'the polite kinda'. Or 'the unnecessary kinda'. "

The next moment, Jaskier's playful tone leaves its place to a caring, worried one as he keeps talking: "If something is going wrong with your life, I take it back though. Ignore everything I said in that case. Is everything okay? Are you okay?"

"Ah, about that— Don't worry, everything is alright," Geralt replies, "I was thinking about calling you today, but I couldn't quite find the time. I know that's not an excuse, and I know I could call you earlier, but I didn't want to call you only to say 'I have to hang up,' a minute later."

"I’m happy to hear that nothing is wrong. And well, even that would be better than leaving me hanging. Or a simple 'Hey, the best patient ever' text would do. You took so long that I would be lying if I said I didn't think about getting involved in another accident."

"I'd rather you didn't."

"I would get into millions of accidents just to see you, Geralt. Provided that I could have you as my nurse every time, of course. What's the point otherwise? I'm not a masochist."

"Such a flatterer you are, Mr. Pan—"

"I'm not trying to flatter you. Cross my heart and hope do die, I'm just scattering the facts around like they are glitters. Or cake sprinkles."

"God forbid! Accidents, death... Aren't we gonna talk about nice things at all?"

"I've been waiting for you to call me forever. I have every right to be bitter about it."

"I'll make it up to you, I promise. How about I start making up to you, starting now?"

"Sounds like you have something in your mind, Mr. Handsome Nurse."

"I do, indeed. Have you had dinner yet?"

"Does strawberry yogurt count as dinner?"

"I highly doubt it. You were complaining about hospital food, and yet that's what you choose to have for dinner?"

"I've never said I count yogurt as quality dinner, but it's still better than the things you dare to serve people as 'food', I should admit, I thought you already came to terms with—"

"Maybe you should come over so I can show you how a proper, nice dinner looks like. I'm not half bad at cooking."

Jaskier is silent on the other end of the line.

"Are you still there?" Geralt asks finally, "I'm sorry if this was too forward of me or too soon, I just thought it could be nice. You could meet Ciri too, that way."

"No! Yeah! I mean—" if Geralt didn't imagine it, Jaskier sighs and murmurs an angry 'get it together you dumbass,' to himself before he continues talking. "Yes, I'm still here. No, this wasn't too forward of you. I was just taken aback a little bit, sorry. I mean, not every day a handsome nurse who I've been waiting for his call for a decade calls and invites me over for dinner. I'd love that, Geralt."

"I'll send you the address, then." Geralt checks his watch, it's nearly 6 p.m. "Is eight okay for you?"

"Sure, that should be fine. Hey, Ciri still doesn't know, right?"

"I don't think I need to answer that."

"Huh? Why is that?"

"Don't you think she would just grab my phone and call you herself if she knew? Or reaching out to you on every social media possible? Shouting from the rooftops, even?"

"She really likes me that much?"

"She just called me, I quote, an 'idiot', 'crazy', and 'jabroni' after watching your video, so..."

"She did what?!"

"I mean, not directly at me since she doesn't know I'm the 'him' in the 'it must be him', but still."

"Seems to me like you're in big trouble here."

"Don't even remind me about it."

"I'd be lying if I said that doesn't put some pressure on me though. I mean... What if she doesn't like me?"

"Wha— Ciri already adores you. She adores you so much that it's annoying sometimes."

"It's impossible not to like you," is on the tip of his langue.

"They say never meet your heroes. What if when she actually meets me, she goes 'Meh, that's it?' What if I disappoint her somehow?"

"Worrying about earth getting invaded by the aliens in pink pasta costumes and tutus would much more sense compared to this. Believe me."

Jaskier laughs at that, but Geralt can still sense that he is not completely convinced.

"If you say so."

"I know so, Jaskier. I know so."

#the witcher #jaskier #geraskier #geralt #my writing #nurse geralt au #I Would Get into Millions of Accidents Just to See You #jaskier x geralt

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somekidnamedkai · 3 years ago

Note

Dec 23 with Luka pls 😊

Homemade Gingerbread Houses

not the best fic i’ve written, but heY, I tried lol.

Luka Clemence x Alice

Day 23 of my 25 days of Christmas Fluff

Word Count: 846

Making gingerbread houses was something Alice always enjoyed doing, it brought her a lot of joy and she thought she could give some of that same joy to her boyfriend, Luka. Walking into the kitchen she saw him mixing something in a pot, probably soup, he did make it a little more often in the wintertime Alice noticed. “Hey, Luka,” Alice said softly as she closed the door

Looking towards to see who it was, seeing Alice made him smile, “Hey,” He said to her happily, just seeing her made Luka happy, and nothing could ever change it. Noticing her hands were behind her back, Luka gave the soup another stir before he turned his full attention to her, “what’re you hiding?” He asked as he pointed to her arms.

A cheeky smile appeared on her face as she answered, “I loved making gingerbread houses during the holidays, and I was hoping you and I could make some,” she said happily but she was still a little shy about it as she showed Luka the boxes she got.

“Of course,” Luke told her, “and we could give those boxes to the others and make our gingerbread for the houses.”

Just the thought of making gingerbread houses from scratch with Luka made Alice's eyes sparkle, “that does seem awesome! Luka, you’re amazing!” She said as she went next to Luka and gave him a small kiss on his cheek, turning his face a deep shade of red.

Dinner soon came and passed, leaving Luka and Alice alone in the kitchen, “So… How do you make gingerbread?” Alice asked as she got her apron on as the jack of hearts grabbed some ingredients.

“I have a recipe,” Luka answered as he lifted his diary, “could you get the ginger from the cabinet you’re next to?” Luka asked her as he pointed where it was. Alice nodded happily as she grabbed it and walked over to Luka.

Some time passed by as the gingerbread cooked, but when it was done Luke got it out of the oven and Alice began to get the icing and decorations, which consisted of way too many mints, sprinkles, dew drops, m&ms, and lots of other types of candy. “Alright, I’ll hold the walls up and you can ice them together unless you want to hold them and I ice?” Luka suggested.

“I’ll ice,” Alice said as Luke let out a soft laugh as he grabbed some of the walls to the house they were going to do first and Alice looked at him slightly confused as she began to put the icing on the gingerbread, “what was funny about that?” She asked with a chuckle, seeing Luka happy and laughing made her want to laugh as well.

“Nothing, it’s just ‘I’ll ice’ sounds a little bit like Alice, and you’re Alice the second,” Luka said shyly, “it was kind of dumb to laugh at, I don’t kno-” Luka rambled but was quickly cut off by his girlfriend squirting some icing in his mouth.

“You’re so cute.” She told him as she gave Luka a small kiss. “How does the icing taste?” She asked as Luka wiped off the excess icing that was on his face. “It’s good,” He answered her with a smile. Luka grabbed his bag of icing and put some on Alice’s nose, his smile growing, “you’re cuter, by the way.”

A small giggle escaped from Alice’s lips as she wiped the icing off of her nose and licked it up. After the twos small icing fight was over, they went back to the house. After they iced on the door and the roof they got some decorations to put on it. “We could put the dew drops on top of the roof and have m&ms as the roof shingles,” Luke suggested, showing Alice what he meant. Seeing him so focused and into this made her so happy. Luka put a small dap of icing on a red dewdrop, but instead of putting it on the house he stuck it on Alice’s nose, “Hey there Rudolph,” he teased her.

A laugh escaped Alice's lips as she looked up at Luka, “what did my nose do to deserve this?” she teased him as she got some icing and rubbed it on his cheek. “Hey!” Luka exclaimed at her, his smile only growing. “You’re gonna get coal for being bad,” Luka said as he threw some brown m&ms at Alice, who ended up catching a couple in her mouth, making both of them laugh.

“I love you, Luka,” Alice told him with a smile as she kissed his cheek. “I love you too,” he responded to her as he looked at the house that was beautifully decorated, “and I love our house.”

“Want to do the other one? I did make enough for two,” Luka told her as her eyes sparkled.

“Was getting covered in icing the first time not enough for you?” Alice teased her boyfriend as they both got the gingerbread and began to assemble their other house.

#ikemen revolution #ikerev #luka clemence #ikerev luka #25 days of christmas fluff #ikemenrevolution #cybrid ikemen #ikemen revolution luka #luka clemence fluff #luka clemence x reader

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jay-and-dean · 4 years ago

Text

Yet another thing to celebrate

Dean x reader

Summary (I used the requester’s words) : Reader’s birthday is on Christmas Eve, which generally sucks because everyone is either skint or celebrating Christmas.

Warnings : Fluffy fluff with a little fluff whipped cream on top. Very implied smut.

Wordcount : 3.6k

Note : This is my fic for @girl-next-door-writes Secret Santa (I reaaally hope you like it lovely, merry Christmas and happy birthday) hosted by @negans-lucille-tblr on @spnsecretsantaficexchange.

I also made my participation to the amazing @acklesterritory‘s celebration challenge, in the fic, my prompt was “I saw that, you just checked me out”, it’s bold in the fic.

The song refered to is She’s always a woman, by Billie Joel.

The text dividers are from the great @firefly-graphics

Jay’s Masterlist

Christmas…

Before you even open your eyes, you sigh, grabbing the soft pillow in your fist and nuzzling on its softness in a sleepy grunt.

You don’t hate this day, but it often makes you a little sad despite your will to enjoy it fully. It is your birthday. December 24, the busiest day in the country, damn, in the whole West. And even if you are not the kind to want the full attention on you, to be spoiled or anything, you just wish sometimes that, for once, you could have a proper birthday.

When you were a teen, you more than once even dared dreaming of a party you could throw, but Christmas is about family and basically about everyone. Not you.

You dream of a little birthday party with friends, some drinks, music, maybe dancing a little... But it would be impossible unless you do it way before or way after, and it wouldn't really be the same...

This year is different though.

This winter, even if the celebration of your birth was totally forgotten, you don’t need anything more than what you have now. And what you have is Dean Winchester. Nothing is more important than that, nothing can make you happier.

In fact, nothing can really make you feel any other way than blessed after this summer. After Dean kissed you on that hunt, after you two had sex in the Impala on your way home ; after later he asked you to stay in his bed for the night that other evening you both ended up naked. And finally, after he asked you to stay in his room for good a few weeks later, and started calling you his girlfriend.

You smile thinking of waking up next to him and move your feet to find his behind you. But when you don’t, you turn and rub your eyes before opening them.

Empty. Your shared bed is empty.

“Dean ?” is the first word you say, but the room stays cruelly silent.

Of course… It’s Christmas. He must be busy, like everyone is always on that day… The sting on your heart comes back... You have woken up with the man you love every single morning for the last few months, but not today.

That is how lame your birthday can be.

After staying in bed almost one hour, trying to shake that blues off by thinking of how blessed you are, you finally are about to get up and face that stolen day, but the door opens slowly.

You close your eyes, not really knowing why, maybe just to avoid having to find an explanation for not getting up before if you were awake. The bed moves under Dean’s weight as he crawls on it slowly but you don’t move, even when he clumsily crushes your arm a little while hovering you.

“Happy birthday Baby” he whispers with his coffee breath close to your face. “Have you decided to skip today ? It’s almost noon.”

“Mh…” you hum, lifting your arms to reach his neck, desperate to feel his skin. “Thank you.”

You hesitate a second, wanting to ask him why he got up without you today, why he didn’t wake you with kisses and sweet words like he often does, but you don’t say anything, grateful enough that he got tired of you not being with him and came to get you.

He lets a part of his weight fall on you, making you huff and laugh softly. His scruff scratches your shoulder, the rough fabric of his jeans is uncomfortable and his belt is digging to your hip but you wouldn't change a thing.

Your hand goes to his neck and massages it softly, he hums, and you feel his body softly relax. You always know just how to calm him, how to make him fall back asleep after a nightmare, how to make his muscles calm after the roughest hunts. But after less than a minute, he grunts, sitting up.

"No, no" he shakes his head. "You're not making me skip that day with you ! Get up Baby."

He grabs your shoulders and playfully shake them, not realizing that even his kidding strength is huge.

"Geeet uuuup" he chuckles when your whole body is shaken and your laugh sounds funny because of it.

The warm water runs along your hair and down your spine, and a soft steam fills the bathroom. For sure, that was a great late breakfast, with pancakes Dean had made for you, and his little stolen kisses.

He is really making this day better.

Maybe you can forget about your birthday now, and just enjoy Christmas like a normal person. You are loved, and you are happy, you don't need anything else.

Washing your hair, you smile thinking of the tree the boys have bought, so big that they struggled to carry it up the stairs. You chuckle at thinking of Dean grumbling about the thorns covering Baby's seats. They even bought bags mysterious decorations and fairy lights they never let you see. The library now smells like Christmas tree.

We're celebrating this year, Dean said. And in the years you have known the Winchesters, you indeed never saw them put so much effort in a holiday.

A lot of things keep surprising you.

Sam once told you that his brother had changed a lot since he was with you, making you worry more than anything else. You never wanted Dean to change, you love Dean just the way he is... Then you understood what Sammy was saying...

You understood in the little things. Like Dean's new love for late mornings in bed, like him drinking a little less, being a little less reckless during hunts, humming in the shower, letting go more in bed, allowing himself to give up the constant control he has on himself... And in his will to celebrate Christmas. Dean is not different, he is just happier.

Your eyes get a little wet with joy at the thought while your rub your body with the delicious smelling foam.

Forget your birthday, if Dean's happiness demands this day to be the Christmas he didn't have as a kid, the Christmas he is finally allowing himself to want, then you are honored to help him make it perfect.

You step out of the shower and your eyes meet the big mirror. In the middle of it, written with a big finger on the thick steam : "I love you Y/n".

Your choice is made : This will be Christmas. This will be anything to make that man as lucky as you are.

"How can I help ?" you say, entering the kitchen where Dean is apparently trying to make cookies, wearing this apron he only puts on for great occasions.

"I'm making cookies men like in Shrek" he says pointing to the not-so-bad gingerbread biscuits he already cooked with his finger covered in dough.

You come behind him and wrap your arms around his middle, forehead on his back, just feeling his breathing for a second. Dean doesn't stop what he is doing because he is used to you tenderly and randomly holding him, his clean fingers only come to gently caress your arm for a second before he shapes another cookie, chuckling when he adds a tiny penis to the little guy.

"I love you too" you murmur, nose grazing his back to bath in his smell.

He hums.

"We will eat dinner pretty early, I hope you're hungry" he says, looking at his watch. "I want to enjoy some time with my girl after."

You smile, getting on your tiptoes to kiss the uncovered skin of his neck above the collar of his flannel. He wants a lazy evening, making love like you do, or maybe try a kinky thing ; what is sure is you will gladly give him what he wants.

Time goes by sweetly as you watch this deadly warrior check the turkey while his equally legendary warrior brother prepares another round of eggnog for the three of you. They move around like busy bees in the room and it's a perfect show.

You sit on the counter, talking about silly things, sometimes doing something to help, when your boyfriend lets you. You keep sipping from the sugary drink, and watching the beauty of Dean just be before your eyes. Unaware of how perfect he is in his every moves, he just works with his strong arms and skilled hands.

Your eyes linger a little along his thick thighs, and you bend your head to the side to enjoy the exquisite sight of the sensual curve of his butt.

"I saw that, you just checked me out" he says in a smile without even turning around.

"And ?" you let out in a chuckle. "What are you going to do about that ?"

At your surprise, he starts to rock his hips from right to left slowly in clumsy funny moves of his butt, like he wanted to sexy dance for you without stopping what he is doing, earning an eye roll from his brother when his hip hits him on his way.

Christmas is already perfect.

The table is beautiful. Different courses in pretty plates you didn't know the guys had filling it like you have only seen in the movies. There is way too much food for three people but you are so happy that your beloved Winchester can eat like they want for Christmas eve.

Everything is pretty, the giant messy tree has real bright decorations on it and there are even a few presents at its feet, wrapped messily in colorful papers.

But their most impressive work is the light in the room, changing the place completely. Almost none of the artificial lights of the bunker is on, and a subdued ambiance with fairy lights and candles make it look even more magical than it usually is.

"When did you find the time to do all that ?" you smile with unintended wetness in your enthralled eyes. "It looks... enchanted in here."

"You stayed in bed until noon" Dean says in a light chuckle, pulling a chair for you and putting a kiss on your cheek. "Merry Christmas baby."

"It's perfect, Deanie" you turn your head so his next kiss lands on the corner of your mouth. "Merry Christmas guys."

Sam sits, rubbing his hands at the sight of the turkey, and starts reminding his brother of an old memory of a past Christmas you listen with all your focus. Everything that can make you know more about their life always catches your full attention. You are, after all, their biggest fan.

The story is about a Christmas when Dean was a teen. He had spent the night between 23th and 24th December with a girl and was really late to come back to the motel. Sam thought maybe he wouldn't be back for diner, he had already taken the cereals out of the closet when Dean showed up carrying the whole cooked Turkey he had stolen from the girl's parents.

You look at your boyfriend with all the love in the world and bend to give him a kiss on the forearm while he cuts a piece of this not stolen meat for you.

"Her parents were dicks, and I couldn't let you starve, dad would have killed me" Dean chuckles, filling your plate.

But you know the story must be really different from just that, Dean never brags about how great he was with Sam.

You let out a little moan, tasting the food and Dean’s face is lit by a wide proud grin.

“It’s good ?” he asks before he even tastes, an excited hope in his eyes.

“Delischious” you answer with your mouth full, a hand before it.

And indeed, everything is perfect. Dean, as much as Sam can playfully denies it, is a great cook. He has no technique, no cooking education, but what he has is a real love for food and comfort, a great experience on mixing things and tasting that gives him a perfect intuition. And, above all, the strong selfless will of saying "I love you" with food like some people have.

Sitting on the floor next to the tree, you hold against you the red flannel Dean finally agreed to give you, and the books Sam bought for you. Your head is leaning lovingly on your lover's shoulder while he looks, exited, at the vinyl records he got, humming his favorite songs.

You crawl between his thighs and rest your back on his chest, your head back, temple grazing his scruff.

"Best Christmas ever" you smile, feeling his lips graze your cheek. "So what is the program of a Winchester Christmas after that ?"

You close your eyelid and take a deep breath of Dean's scent, expecting a sexy proposition.

"We're going somewhere" he smiles, and, when you open your eyes, you see Sam put on his coat.

"Now ?" you frown, a little confused. "Where ?"

Dean gets up, putting you on your feet with his strong arm, and takes his coat and yours from Sam's hands.

"I'm not telling you. Take your jacket and get in the car."

He is silent on the road despite all your questions.

You listen to the car's purring and look outside to try to guess where they are taking you. The white snow covers the sides of the road with a very thin and delicate layer, the headlights are hit with little swirling snowflakes, and no clue betrays their surprise.

Sam is smiling, looking out the window. You know they have been planning something, and you know you will love it. Maybe they will show you a place they used to go when they were kids, maybe take you to a special place where you can see the stars so clearly, like this time last summer.

"Come on Dean" you say, kneeling on Baby's back seat to wrap your arms around him from behind, going down a little to feel his firm chest though his shirt under your palms. "Tell me."

"You can't wait just five minutes" he tries to grunt, but it sounds more like a chuckle.

You fall silent, not letting go of him, holding him like the precious treasure he is, occasionally smelling his hair, kissing his shoulder and tracing the contours of his ear. You just can't stop touching him, and since that talk you had after sex once, you know how much he loves it.

"Aw" Sam mocks you like he often does. "You two are so cute."

"Fuck yeah we are" Dean groans, turning right to a one way road.

"You know Christmas is already perfect" you smile. "You don't have to surprise me again."

"Yeah, I know" he says, parking in front of a bar. "But, it's not only Christmas today."

You look around, confused. The guys open the door, letting the freezing cold enter the Impala, and get out in a perfect sync. You follow them, lifting your eyes to the colorful neon lights reflecting in the snowy night. Around on the parking lot, more cars than you would have expected are parked, and you wonder who would spend Christmas eve in a bar like this one.

But before you can wonder why they would have taken you there, to this bar you never heard off, your boyfriend's hand wraps around your waist and he guides you inside, pushing the heavy doors.

The first thing that hits you is the perfect warmth of the inside. The temperature is perfect but not only : the music is smooth like honey, it's this kind of blues that is paradoxically happy and comforting, it smells like wood and whiskey ; and above all, here too, there is something about the light that feels like a hug.

The second thing that hits you is the welcoming familiar face of Garth smiling to you.

"Garth ?" you frown and feel Dean's lips graze your ear. "Happy birthday Baby."

He lets go of you to walk to the people there at the bar, arms open to greet them, letting you stunned.

You are recognizing all you friends there, still in their Christmas clothes, walking to you to hug you and bring you drinks and for a few seconds, your body just stays still.

No one is missing, not one person. And, even if you don't have hundreds of friends since you joined the hunter life, you have never seen a room so full of love.

"Let me take your coat" Jody says, seeing you froze to the spot.

"I... You're here for me ? Th-they planned all that ?" you stammer with some watery emotions filling your eyes.

"Dean did" Jody smiles. "We followed."

You're sipping from that delicious drink the bartender made according to your tastes, unable to take that smile off of your face. Donna, a little tipsy in her pretty outfit, is telling sexy jokes with a full dimpled smile, making Sam chuckle and Charlie high-five her, spilling a little of her drink on you.

From the corner of your eye, you look at him.

He is bending on the pool table with a smirk, his beer next to him. From here, you can't hear what he is saying to the other players, but it seems a little cocky. After only a few seconds staring at him, it's like he felt it and he looks up, giving you the cutest wink.

And you blush. Because even after all you have lived together, even after the kinky experiences, the intimate moments, after seeing him cry, yell, suffer or come... A wink is still enough to turn you to a blushing mess.

All evening, he has been keeping his distance just a little. Not avoiding you at all but not clinging to you, to let you enjoy your friends, to let you have the full experience of a birthday party like you dreamed of since you were a teen.

A birthday with loud silly discussions, a lot of drinks, inventing silly tipsy games with your best friends, trading your clothes in the bathroom, catching up as much as dancing with each other... And you never felt loved that much.

Dean's love is the sun in the middle of your world, but now you can also see the stars, and it is probably the best night of your life so far.

He managed to do something you never could for years and all your friends agreed with his crazy plan. They all had an early Christmas diner to be able to drive here, offer you too many drinks and be there for you. They all made it about you and you're both incredibly grateful and emotional. And since most of them will come sleep at the bunker -and eat all the leftovers with you tomorrow- you don't have to care about the time.

Suddenly, a music note catches your ear.

You know that note by heart. It is the first note of your favorite love song, it is the firsts notes of what Dean hums in your ear sometimes when he holds you after making love to you, pushing your hair on the side to see your sweaty bliss face.

You turn you head and meet green eyes, closer than you expected.

"Hey" he says, taking your hand.

"Hey" you smile.

He tugs gently at your arm, pulling you away from the bar to wrap his arms around your waist.

You have missed him. Of course he was here, but after everything he has done for you, you really have missed holding him, smelling his skin and kissing his lips.

He starts to sway his hips really slightly, humming the love words of the song, and you throw your arms around his neck, looking up at his perfect face.

"She can kill with a smile, she can wound with her eyes..." he whispers the lyrics, fingers grazing the skin of your neck.

And for the hundredth time today, your eyes fill with happy tears while his fingertips go down on your back to hold your waist again.

"Are you having fun ?" he asks low, one hand stroking your lower back tenderly, thumb pushing your shirt up discreetly to feel your skin.

"It's the best night of my life" you give him your most sincere smile. "Dean... You are really incredible, you know that ?"

"Yeah" he nods, hiding his shyness in a kiss on your lips.

"I really was ready to chose Christmas, you know ?" you state, swaying your hips slowly with him, forgetting the rest of the world in your bubble of love.

His plumb lips gently raise on the corner, and he lets go of you to search his pocket.

"I didn't have to choose between hunter life and happy life thanks to you, so I'll make sure you never have to choose between your birthday and Christmas" he murmurs in your ear, before kissing your temple.

His hand reach yours and he opens it to put a little thing on your palm.

"What do you say we had yet another thing to celebrate on that day ?" his breath tickles your neck and you look down to your hand, discovering a little golden ring with a tiny blue stone in the middle of your shaking palm.

"Dean ?"

"Marry me Baby ?"

FEEDBACK IS SO IMPORTANT TO ME

Tags : @parinarain @mogaruke @masterof-agony @rainflowermoon @tftumblin @deans-baby-momma @roonyxx @thefaithfulwriter @vicariouslythruspn @emeow1496 @daryldixonandfrogs @holylulusworld @cocklesbelli @sandlee44 @screenchingartisancashbailiff @donnaintx @stormchasingchick32 @akshi8278 @magssteenkamp @sister-winchesters99 @neii3n @lyss-dw79 @im-a-shrub @sadwaywardkid@hopelesslydevotedtoyou1912 @slyqueenj @i-love-superhero @waywardsisterandpie @sunsetsandbooks @mrspeacem1nusone @stylesismyhubs @deanwanddamons @jawritter @peridottea91 @chelsea072498 @chocolateheart @vicmc624 @teresa-67 @jessie-michael @doctor-hp-mcu @hawkerz12 @mariaenchanted @hobby27 @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @thoughts-and-funnies @suramyaa @yasreadsfics

#supernatural #Supernatural Dean Winchester #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fic #dean winchester #dean winchester fic #spn dean x reader #dean x reader #dean x y/n #fluff #dean winchester fluff #spnsecretsantaficexchange #jay and dean #christmas

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jaskierswolf · 4 years ago

Note

hi wolfie it is i, the ramen man, i was wondering if you could write a prompt based on a baking competition tv show ? maybe even christmas themed if you want ?? no stress if you can't/don't wanna write it, i love u 🥺

This got... long? So you can also find on AO3

__________

Jaskier wasn’t stressed. He’d made this recipe a thousand times. It was his speciality! No one made better chocolate brownies than he did but his presentation let him down. They were messy, gooey and delicious but this was a competition. They needed to look good too. He whined as he sat in front of his oven. Who made chocolate brownies for a cooking competition? Oh god he was an idiot.

He glanced around the room. Valdo Marx was busy finishing up his winter spiced cake and it smelled absolutely divine; the bastard. Plus he’d brought along some holly sprigs to make the whole thing look a bunch more christmassy. Jaskier had baked some orange slices to decorate his brownies. He also had some edible golden glitter for the top and a few spun sugar decoration for good luck. His secret ingredient though was Cointreau. The orange liqueur kept the brownies extra gooey in the centre without them being too rich.

He stared into the oven, chewing his bottom lip anxiously as he ran a hand through his hair. They were almost done. There was a shiny film over the top that would give the brownies a nice crunch. If he did well with these he would get into the next round; the final round. In that round they hand to create gingerbread houses, well more palaces. They had to absolute architectural masterpieces and he was shitting himself. Like his brownies, his gingerbread tasted amazing but it wasn’t always pretty. They were delicious and wonderful but not much to look at on the surface.

He’d only gotten so far because they tasted good.

“Come on, come on, come on!” He muttered and pressed his face against the glass.

He really needed to at least get to the final. There were smaller cash prizes for all finalists and the publicity from the competition would do wonders for his little bakery.

“How’s it going?” Triss Merigold, one of the presenters asked.

He shrugged. “Not much I can do until it’s finished baking. It always goes much faster when you’re watching this at home.”

Triss laughed. “Clever editing.”

“I just hope I’ve done enough,” he sighed. “Maybe I can charm the judges with my guitar skills instead…”

“Ah yes, they said you play. Is that a hobby?” Triss asked with forced politeness.

Jaskier scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah. Well, I wanted to play as a kid. I was going to be the next John Lennon but you know how it is. My gran taught me how to bake and I became addicted. I still write my own songs for my YouTube channel though.”

“Wow! That’s amazing!” Triss made it sound like the least amazing hobby on the planet.

Luckily the oven timer went off at that moment and Jaskier was able to crack on. He pricked the brownies to make sure they were cooked through before setting it aside to cool. Whilst they were cooling he grabbed his tray of sugar decorations and the orange slicer.

“Bakers! You have five minutes!” Triss called out.

“Oh bollocks!” He groaned. He wasn’t going to have enough time to let it cool before decorating. Luckily the brownies tasted better warm but they were also harder to get out of the tin in one piece. He whined pitifully but dug a knife around the edge of the tin before slicing the brownies into the neatest rectangles he could manage. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

The camera man glared at him for swearing but he just stuck his tongue out. He was stressed, he was allowed to fucking swear! They were crumbling in his hands as he moved them to the plates. He cleaned up the crumbs as best as he could before showering them with edible glitter. He arranged the baked orange decorations as best he could so they looked slightly less terrible and then finally delicately placed the spun sugar on the top, only breaking two of the little shits in his hands.

“And stop!” Triss yelled and all the bakers stood back from their stations.

Valdo Marx was smiling smugly. His winter spiced cake looked fucking fantastic. On his other side stood Priscilla. She’d made cupcakes that were elegantly decorated to look like snowflakes, each one slightly different and beautiful. Next to Priscilla was Essi Daven. Her chocolate Yule Log looked amazing, Jaskier almost believed it was a real log.

Oh he was so going out.

He sighed and plastered a fake smile on his face as Yennefer Vengerberg re-entered the room.

“Time’s up bakers. You are apparently the best of the best but only three of you will make the final round. My expectations are high. I’m sure you’ll disappoint.” She smirked at them, violet eyes flashing dangerously. “Sadly, it is not only me that you must impress with these bakes.”

Jaskier felt his eyes widen. Shit, he’d forgotten that they brought in a second judge in this round. The bakers never knew who would be until they were introduced but it was always a famous chef and Jaskier suddenly felt like he couldn’t breathe.

“Please welcome, my ex-husband… Geralt.”

Jaskier let out a pitiful whimper as Geralt fucking Rivia entered the room. The man was only his celebrity crush. He would be fine. It was going to be fine and holy shit he was even more gorgeous in real life.

Fuck.

“Now, as I am sure you are all away, Geralt and I have never once agreed on anything except our daughter. So this promises to be fun.” Yen drawled sarcastically.

Geralt chuckled and crossed his arms in front on his chest. He was wearing a tight black t-shirt and Jaskier’s entirely life was suddenly just Geralt’s arms.

They were so big.

“That is precisely why I was invited, Yen,” Geralt muttered with a fond smile. “Evens out the vote.”

“My vote is fine on its own.”

“Hmm. We’ll see.”

Jaskier zoned out the rest of the conversation as the other bakers made their way to the front to be judged. He was too entranced by the god stood before him. The long silver hair that was pulled up into a bun, revealing the oh so sexy undercut. Jaskier watched Geralt’s lips part as he tasted one of Priscilla’s cupcakes. He got some frosting stuck on the corner of his lips and Jaskier desperately wanted to help him lick it off, but instead Geralt’s tongue flicked out to catch it. Jaskier was weak.

He zoned back in long enough to notice with great satisfaction that Valdo’s cake was under-baked and a little bit shit, not even holly could save it. So Jaskier was still in with a chance, and then it was his turn. He was hoping the brownies would still be warm. If they’d cooled down too much then his presentation would probably fuck him over.

“Buttercup?” Yennefer raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “If you could stop drooling over my ex for two seconds, tell us about your… brownies?”

Jaskier’s fingers flexed and he tugged nervously at the edge of his shirt. “Ah yes. Umm. Hi,” He stammered and blushed as Geralt winked at him. “Brownies, orange. Chocolate orange brownies,” he swallowed and ran a hand through his hair. “I used dark chocolate mostly but there are chocolate orange chunks in there too, any orange flavoured chocolate is good. Orange zest, orange juice and umm.. oh ah, orange liqueur.”

“Aren’t you concerned the orange will overpower the chocolate?” Yen asked sharply.

Jaskier shrugged. “I make these every year. They sell well at the bakery.”

“Smells good,” Geralt noted.

“The presentation is shocking,” Yennefer countered.

“Yeah,” Jaskier admitted with a sheepish smile “but I can do better. If you give me a chance.”

Geralt raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re running out of chances.”

“Yeah but I’m cute.” The words fell from his lips before he could stop them. He clapped his hand over his mouth and blush furiously. “I am so sorry!”

“Hmm.”

“Let’s just taste them shall we?” Yen suggested.

Jaskier nodded, still hiding behind his hands. “Please.” He felt a hand on his shoulder and he yelped.

“Relax, Jaskier,” Geralt murmured in a low voice.

Jaskier’s blush deepened and he smiled up at Geralt. Oh those eyes were like honey, so warm and inviting. There was still a small smudge of frosting on his lips that Jaskier hadn’t noticed before but now he couldn’t stop staring. He wondered if Geralt tasted as sweet as he looked. “Thanks, Geralt.”

“Geralt, stop flirting and taste the freaking brownie.”

“Yes, dear,” Geralt sighed.

Geralt took a bite of his brownie and fucking moaned. A quiet whimper escaped Jaskier’s lips. God he was going to melt on national television but he didn’t care. He’d had a chance to meet his favourite celebrity and Geralt had liked his baking! It was honestly life goals. The only thing he had left to tick off was his wedding to Geralt by the coast. That had always seemed like an unreachable fantasy that helped him sleep at night but now Geralt was right in front of him… it didn’t seem quite so far away.

“Fuck,” Geralt moaned. Jaskier chuckled, that would have to be beeped out in the final cut. “This is amazing!”

Yennefer looked surprised as she tried her own forkful of brownie. “Not bad, buttercup. Not bad at all. It melts in your mouth.”

“And the orange is actually subtler than I expected.” Geralt gave him a fond smile and Jaskier had to remind himself how to breathe.

“Ah, umm. Thanks, Thank you, Geralt.”

“It looks like dirt,” Yennefer said cooly “but it tastes heavenly. Presentation has always been your weakness, Jaskier.”

Jaskier’s eyes widened. Yennefer hadn’t called him ‘Jaskier’ since the first round when Triss had mentioned it was Polish for buttercup. “I know. I know!” He whined.

“If you get through to the final then you will fail miserably unless you can change that,” she added with a raised eyebrow.

“Taste won’t save you, no matter how cute you are,” Geralt smirked.

“I know. Wait hang on what?!” Jaskier stammered at Geralt’s words.

“You did good, buttercup. Well done.” Yennefer said firmly and rolled her eyes. “We’re done here.”

“Thank you, Yennefer, Geralt,” He nodded, definitely not still blushing as his gaze landed back on Geralt. “Thank you.”

____________

Jaskier screamed into the cushions as he threw himself down on the sofa. He’d fucking done it! He was in the final! He’d never imagined in a million years! Not to mention that Geralt Rivia thought he was cute. He wondered if he would be able to get Geralt’s autograph or whether that was just weird considering he was one of the judges.

“Jaskier?”

Jaskier rolled over so he could see Geralt, forgetting that the sofa wasn’t that wide and falling onto the floor. “Oh fuck!”

“Are you alright?” Geralt asked as he came over to help him stand up. Jaskier gripped Geralt’s forearm as he was pulled to his feet.

All other thoughts left his mind as he stared at the muscles in Geralt’s arms.

“Arms…” He blurted out. “I mean! Shit. Umm, oh god.”

Geralt just laughed and steadied him on his feet. “Look, I wanted to ask…. once the show is over and I’m no longer a judge. Did you want to get dinner?”

Jaskier gaped at Geralt. “I’m sorry what?”

“Unless I’ve completely misread the situation. Fuck. Sorry. Look you can say no, I won’t score you worse because of it,” Geralt paled and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “We’ll pretend this never happened.”

“No, Geralt wait!” Jaskier grabbed his arm. “Yes, ask me again after the final but yes. Dinner sounds great.”

Geralt smiled faintly and nodded. “Great.”

“Great,” Jaskier repeated. “It’s a date!”

Geralt nodded again. “I have to go. We shouldn’t be seen alone together until after the final.”

“Yeah, yeah. Of course.”

“Good luck, Jaskier.”

Jaskier grinned dopily as he watched Geralt walk away. It looked like Christmas magic was a real thing after all. “Yeah, you too.”

Wait. You too? Oh fuck it. _____________ Tag list: @alwenarin @slythnerd @davidtennan-t @flippinfricks @innocentcinnamonpun @marvagon @elliestormfound @geraskier-trashh @panerato @moonysourenza @artistsfuneral @victorieschild @hailhailsatan @wherethewordsare @havenoffandoms @bitchy-witchy-post-mortem @electricrituals @geralt-of-riviass @00qtee @kittynannygaming @stinastar @scribblesonmapleleaves @thecomfortofoldstorries @fontegagrilledcheese @anythinggoesfandoms @veritasrose @trickstermoose67 @nonegenderleftpain @ohheytheremiss @kueble @love-more-today-than-yesterday @kozkaboi

#the witcher #geraskier #geralt of rivia #yennefer of vengerberg #jaskier pankratz #triss merigold #modern au #christmas prompt #wolfie's witcher writing #ramenyul #winter prompts

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pascalpanic · 4 years ago

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I love your headcanons and I have a request! I'm someone who LOVES baking for my loved ones, friends and co-workers. What are your HCs for which of the Pedro boys have a sweet tooth and/or would enjoy their S/O showing affection through excellent homemade baked goods?

@sugarontherims this u?

this is so cute and also relatable so i am so excited. I’m gonna do each boy’s weakness for your baking and then a little bit about them, AND the order from top to bottom is the biggest sweet tooth to the smallest

Sweet Treats and Sweet Tooths

Javier Peña- Brownies

Javier has a crazy sweet tooth, but he hides it well. No one knows about it except you, the one who catches all the times he’ll find his way to the break room and return with crumbs in his mustache. You work with him at the embassy, and he never comments when you pull out the container of treats, but he’ll sneak one as he walks past. You call out that you saw it, and he’ll turn around with a mouthful of chocolate goodness and make a face of surprise. It’s fucking adorable. The brownies are Javier’s favorite- he loves chocolate in all forms, and the fudgy texture is so delicious that he ends up trying to copy your recipe and failing miserably. That’s how you get your first date with him: Javi tells you he just can’t get the recipe right. It’s gotta be your magic touch that makes them good. Maybe you’d show him sometime?

Marcus Pike- Red Velvet Cupcakes

Marcus adores sweet treats, but his real weakness is frosting. His favorite kind is the cream cheese stuff that you put on your red velvet cupcakes. He’s always loved the cupcakes from one specific bakery a few blocks from his D.C. apartment, but he swears there’s nothing better than yours. You make the frosting from scratch, and he rushes to your desk with a sweet but conniving smile every time someone mentions you brought treats today. “Wouldn’t happen to be-” “For the love of God, Marcus, do you want my recipe for the red velvet cupcakes?” You tease, and he grins.

Frankie Morales- Chocolate Chip Cookies

They’re classic and sweet, just like Frankie. He loves them in any way or form, but he’s partial to cookies with melty chocolate chips. You’re always making treats to bring to the guys’ houses when you get together with the boys, and Frankie always eats more of your cookies than anyone else. You started to bring separate plates of them just for Frankie, so that the other men would get a shot at eating any of them. He still steals them from the big plate in the kitchen. He makes little happy noises when he bites into one, grinning and getting chocolate all over his face. Doesn’t matter- it’s an excuse for you to wipe the chocolate off of that cute dimple.

Agent Whiskey- Pie

Jack likes his drinks to be strong, but he prefers sweet foods over salty. This classic Southern boy loves pie! It doesn’t matter what kind- he’ll eat anything you bring in, but he’s a sucker for a custard pie. Banana cream might be his favorite if you forced him to pick, but he adores any of them. He loves to call you “cutie pie” as a pun on how much he adores your baking. Seriously, this man would quit his job if it meant he could be your full time taste-tester. He loves to stand in the kitchen, getting in your way until you give him a kiss, and stealing licks from the spoon.

Marcus Moreno- Snickerdoodles

Anita was never big on baking when Marcus was just a tiny tot with metalbending powers, but when she did, it was always snickerdoodles. Cinnamon is one of Marcus’s favorite spices- you can always tell, as his colognes always has undertones of it. He melts and it reminds him of his childhood when he bites into the fluffy cookies you brought to his desk one day. He smiled up at you and admitted that they were better than his mother’s, and he loved those a lot. He asks if, maybe, you would teach him how to bake? He wants to make sure Missy can experience those sweet moments in the kitchen like he and his mother did. Of course, you say yes.

Din Djarin- Gingerbread Cookies

Din has never really had the chance to eat for the fun of it. He’d become an instant foodie once he’s exposed to it, but his favorite foods are the ones full of flavor. He likes the spicy noodles you try on one planet, absolutely adores the bursting sour fruits you try on another, but your baking is something different to him. If you mix the ingredients, he and Grogu will shape the dough neatly into a little gingerbread Grogu and Mando and you. He has excellent steady hands, and he’ll pipe the details on his cookie while Grogu puts so much frosting on top it can barely hold up. He secretly prefers the one you make, with light smears of frosting and spicy red candies as eyes.

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herstarburststories · 4 years ago

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Merry... Birthday?

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader

Summary: You love christmas, but Dean doesn’t. Yet, he might make an exception for your birthday this year.

A/N: This one goes for @negans-lucille-tblr ‘s secret fic exchange. My secret Santa was @katymacsupernatural. Hey, honey! I hope you enjoy this and happy birthday! You deserve double presents, so here’s mine. All mistakes are mine!

Divider by @talesmaniac89 !

You loved Christmas.

It was probably a nostalgic longing for your long gone urban life. Just in the same way you’d still catch yourself looking through the news for election results or feel your stomach twist if you didn’t eat homemade food at least twice a week. You were dead to the government and certainly spent more on the road than in a home. Besides, you had met up with God enough times to know him. All the encounters and screaming and unapologetic abandonment should make you want to throw any baby Jesus against a wall or even climb on a Christmas tree just to shout about all the hoaxes so perfectly molded in patterns through our brains like braids.

Yet, something about you loved christmas.

The pretty lights always shining, it didn’t matter where you go. For once, all the city-- everything would be entirely made of light. Their incandescent glow always companishing each person, either it was in an once treacherous alley or only to make the kids' grin bigger as they watched them among the busy streets with wide eyed gazes. The confusion in the kitchen that often ended up with huffs bursting into chuckles between the smell of meals that were too much and would make a room for leftovers for the rest of the week. How everything seemed to be made only of happiness, and nothing could ever cut through those water; all the knives were suddenly swords for kids to play and no white gun. In Christmas, a house became a kingdom for every heart. Everything was good and felt through the skin to the bone, like a single glimpse, a hidden day of what would be paradise.

That was how you were raised, at least. The Winchesters didn’t share the same mindset, no. While you grew up with decorating the tree, they were hiding bodies in the dim light. Leftovers were all through their whole year, and Christmas was described as good or not with one single criteria: snow streets. They had to take one? Annoying date. They didn’t and there was eggnog? Bearable Jesus’s birthday.

Yet, you attempted to make the bunker the more festive possible: buying a bunch of christmas lights, cookies’ ingredients and even a small nativity scene. Your attempts to enjoy the date’s niciities ended up with Sam breaking his arm after crashing on the ground because you insisted on him putting the lights in a place higher than his age, not to mention the burned cookies that looked more like tiny monsters than gingerbread men.

Your parents used to make this look so much easier.

Although the youngest Winchester understood a little more about the concept of holidays, a believer in the good until the very end, his brother didn’t share the idea. You couldn’t say you were surprised. Dean just had two barely normal christmas in his life: one when he was dying and one with Lisa and Ben. Both situations made it to his heart only to shatter from the inside.

‘’Baby Jesus?’’ Dean snorted, shaking his head at the sight of you adjusting the weird little dolls in the nativity. He placed another ruined cook in his mouth, speaking with his mouth full next: ‘’We have the son of Lucifer, guess that counts.’’

‘’Don’t say that once Jack gets home.’’ You rolled your eyes, turning to face the oldest Winchester with your hands on your hips. How could he eat that? You couldn’t even make it a bite and Sam only had half of those. ‘’And stop eating those. They are burned.’’

‘’I’ve had worse.’’ He remarked, adding another cookie to his mouth. You grimaced, wondering for a brief moment how your boyfriend could be simultaneously the guy who saved the world and a man with the taste of a five years old.

‘’Yeah. But I’m the one who has to hear you whining about your bellyache later.’’

‘’I don’t whine--’’ You arched your eyebrows at his statement, making Dean huff in agreement. ‘’That was once and because of Sam’s weird ass vegan bacon.’’

‘’You acted like you were dying.’’

‘’My tongue was!’’

‘’So get this.’’ Sam’s voice interrupted your childish argument, catching the attention of both hunters like a shiny object did to a cat. ‘’Apparently we got an earlier christmas gift.’’

‘’What is it?’’ You asked, approaching the table.

‘’Three teenagers disappeared in the forest, all personal objects left behind.’’ Sam explained as Dean scratched out his neck to glance at his brother’s computer screen. Nothing like a case in Colorado. ‘’The authorities think it’s a serial killer. But one of the girls, Kayla Wodson, said she saw a weird, skinny giant take her friends.’’

‘’Ho ho ho and three bodies.’’ Dean clapped his hands together with a wry curve of lips. ‘’Alright. Let’s hit the road-- Wait, wait, wait. Where do you think you are going?’’

You were standing beside Dean while Sam raised to his feet, ready to pack his bags. Dean, nonetheless, was quicker than his brother, soon putting himself in front of Sammy; hands protectively standing in front of the youngest’s chest to keep him from moving any further.

He shook his head with a scoff. ‘’Dude, come on.’’

‘’Not happening, Sammy. You got a broken arm.’’ You mumbled a sorry along Dean’s big brother speech, to which Sam replied with a comprehensive smile. ‘’Y/N and I take care of it.’’

‘’He’s right. Must be the first time in his life, but he is.’’ Dean turned his head, furrowing his eyebrows at you ‘’Don’t worry. It’s just a wendigo anyway. ‘’

‘’Okay. Just…’’

‘’Don’t forget the fireblazer. As if your brother would miss an opportunity to use it.’’ You scrunched up your noise, causing a chortle out of Sam while Dean commented something about grabbing the specific instrument and walked away. ‘’Maybe you could call Eileen. Ask her to help you to back some christmas cookies.’’

Sammy shook his head at your wiggling brows. ‘’That doesn’t sound as sexy for me as it does for you.’’

Dean Winchester was good with numbers.

Not the urban numerical sense of the deal, of course. He almost didn’t make it in sixth grade with useless geometry and all that, and he still used his fingers to count when he had to deal with an equation. No, his good and quick way with numbers was easier, intrinsic to his head.

How many years since mom died? Seventeen. How many people did he have to save? All of them. How many years had he left? Less than he once owned.

Hunter math was simpler, and was all he really needed since he was four years old, running from the fire with his baby brother in his arms-- which brought him to the second section of his particular geometry: birthdays and death anniversaries. Dean never, ever forgot any special date. Those were his own holidays, the only worth celebrating and remembering. His wishes, grief, and cherishment were reserved for the people he loved, not some celestial assholes who saw his life like a book.

Therefore, his mind went on a golden rush for your day as soon as the Wendigo hunt took more than you both expected. You wouldn't be able to make it home before your birthday, which would be ending shortly, a matter of two or three hours. His inner engineers were useful tonight, in his vision, useful enough to make those sappy movies jealous. While you were washing some guts and leaves away, Dean went to the nearest convenience store. His long arms nesting a bunch of stuff he never dared to touch in years. The cashier with drowsy eyes and escarlet Santa hat seemed bored with his shopping, probably because she saw an uncountable amount of people buying the same things over and over. He couldn’t blame her for the suburban exhaustion. If anything, it was a small comfort for his war orbs to see and be a part of a scene so mundane.

He hustled back to the dive motel room, singing in relief to himself once he stepped in and heard you singing Christmas Tree Farm while the water rushed in. He grimaced at himself for recognizing that Taylor Swift song. How couldn’t he? That woman was 80% of all you heard everyday. Man, he was whipped.

Tilting his head back in reality, he started organizing in clumsy manners of putting everything in place for you. His bruised hands touching so carefully the fragile ornaments to make the motel room with grubby walls and weird black stan on the floor that only seemed to grow a little more like you.

You, the woman who put up with him, who laughed at his stupid jokes, and who watched Scooby Doo, all snuggled up to him every friday. You, the woman who switched from AC/DC to Taylor Swift and then Eric Clapton. You, the one who understood his job and helped him to wash off some of the blood on his hand and never got scared of how red the water could get. You, the girl who rolled her eyes at his first attempt of flirting and now stole his french fries and kissed his lips as if he was worth being delicate with. You, his breathing, his true holiday, his only act of faith besides Sammy.

Dean pressed his teeth against his bottom lip, looking up and down his little manual work. Part of him said it was ridiculous, he surely would make a lot of fun of Sam if he did that to a chick. Yet, mostly he was proud. He wanted you to like it. It wasn’t even near to what you deserved, but it was a piece of it. It was what the Winchester could give you, and that would be hopefully, enough.

While Dean was caught in the crossroad of judging and admiring his surprise, you left the shower with a towel wrapped around your head and lips mumbling Cocaine. Your feet glued to the ground once you witnessed what was in front of you: the room was decorated with christmas lights, a tiny plastic tree on the table, right beside a pie with candle on the top and two cup of what smelled like hot cocoa.

‘’Dean…’’ Your tender tone brought him back from his traineck thoughts as he turned around to glance at you. You chortled in astonishment as he raised his eyes and said surprise! ‘’What’s this?’’

‘’Well, it’s your birthday.’’ He shrugged, scooting closer to you with a smirk. Dean smoothly wrapped his arms around your waist, yours instantly resting around his neck. ‘’In my defense, they just had christmas stuff. Blame your parents for having you close to Jesus’ special day.’’

‘’Christmas stuff include pie and not cake?’’ Your brows knitted together, a heartwarming smile on your lips as you watched his expression marked by multicolored little lights. He smelled like something was a blaze, and you knew that was for standing too close to the candle and not for burning a body this time. Small changes.

He scoffed humorously. ‘’You like pie better anyway.’’ He nodded at the carnival-like situation around you two. Dean Winchester wasn’t the kind of man who got insecure, but you could catch a perk of brand nervous hesitation as his green eyes shot you an anxious glance. ‘’Did you like it?’’

‘’I loved it.’’ You pulled cheeks dimpled with joy that was kissed by Dean’s own smiling lips. The kiss was so gentle, it was his own palpable light hearted emotion. You being happy in his arms. It had been so long since he felt he could be enough, he could make someone happy. But you were right there. As you pulled away, another short kiss was given between playful words: ‘’That’s what I call a christmas miracle.’’

‘’Shush.’’ He leaned in and pecked your lips. As Dean pulled back, he couldn’t help but watch around with the pride of Hubris. His glance went back to you, a lopsided grin on his face. God, you loved that smile. You loved that man. ‘’So I added some whiskey to the hot cocoa. We could drink some, eat the pie, and see if those lights make a good improvise rope. What do you tell me?’’

All you could do was kiss him again.

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annabethy · 4 years ago

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under the mistletoe, watching the fire glow day 9: cliffs

Character A vows to do something nice for a stranger during the Christmas time. Character B is that stranger,, percabeth

Percy happens to think that he’s a nice human being. He tries to be, at least. He has his moments because no one is perfect, but he’s always done his best to be considerate of those around him.

So when his friend tells him that he’s really not a nice person, he just about loses it.

“I am not a bad person!”

Leo raises his hands defensively. “I’m not saying you’re a bad person. All I’m saying is that you could be a little bit more... generous.”

Piper rolls her eyes. “Leave the poor man alone, Leo.”

“I’m generous,” he says, miffed.

“But...” Leo waves his hands wildly, and Percy feels the instinct to punch him in the nose and make him Rudolph. “Do something nice for once.”

“Percy,” Piper says, “he’s just mad that you didn’t give him a piece of your gingerbread cookie. Don’t listen to him.”

Still, it stings just a little bit. Even if it’s a joke, Percy doesn’t think it’s very funny. That’s what prompts him to do something kind this Christmas. He honestly doesn’t know what he plans on doing because what could he do? Buy all of someone’s presents and also go broke in the process? Maybe he could buy someone’s cheap coffee, but then is it really something nice if it’s only two dollars?

Whatever it is, Percy knows that Leo has to be there to see it so he can make Leo choke on his words. The only problem then, though, is that Leo would no doubt say something along the lines of you’re only doing it because you want to prove me wrong, not because you care, bla bla bla, and the Percy will actually shank Leo with a peppermint candy cane.

Percy tries so hard to find the chance to make someone’s Christmas, but it’s so much harder than he would’ve thought. People ignore him when he’s speaking to them about buying their order, or they think it’s some weird Christmas ploy.

He doesn’t get to do something kind until Christmas day.

Percy’s standing in the freezing air on top of a snow-tubing mountain. His friends had dragged him here against his will, because despite being a native New Yorker, he hated the cold. He wanted to be included though, so he came along anyways, stuffed into a black snow suit and a knitted hat. His nose burns from the icy atmosphere, and his fingers are numb. He considers checking for frostbite but then he decides he’d rather not know.

He’s standing on a small wall of ice overlooking everyone else. Leo is somewhere to his right, threatening to push Piper off of the wall, and Percy purposely avoids making eye contact in fear that he’ll be next.

The wall of ice can’t be anything more than five or six feet. He doesn’t know if they’re actually allowed to be up there, but there’s so many people doing the same thing that he’s not too worried.

He watches as a few people jump off of the wall into the fluffy layer of snow, vaguely listening to the conversations around him. He hears a mother hassling her children, and his ears perk up as he notices her muttering something along the lines of her not being able to afford buying them each a hot chocolate from the cabin that lays near the bottom of the mountain.

Percy doesn’t stop to think first, which is probably a mistake.

“I can buy it for you,” he interjects kindly, thrilled that he’s finally getting the chance to do something nice.

The mom looks at him, and it’s almost as though she’s appalled that he’s spoken to her. Percy shrinks back.

“I’m good,” she says.

“I don’t mind,” he continues, more nervous. “It’s only a couple dollars each, and—”

She holds a hand up. “I don’t want to have sex with you.”

Percy’s mind comes to a screeching halt. “What!? That’s not what I—”

“You’re going to tell me that you’re offering to pay twenty dollars and it’s not because you want to sleep with me?”

“No! I was just trying to do something nice for a stranger after my friend said—”

“I don’t want to hear it!” she snaps, already beginning to walk away from Percy. “Follow me and I’ll cut your dick off.”

It’s so shocking to him that he doesn’t even have time to respond before she’s already gone. He truly must have the worst luck because he’s just trying to create Christmas magic, and everyone seems to be doing the exact opposite of that.

Percy’s mouth gapes slightly, his brain still not comprehending what just happened. He’s only pulled out of the haze when someone snorts next to him.

He turns his eyes and catches a girl looking like she was smothering laughter.

“I’m sorry,” she says, laughter now bubbling out of her lips. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a conversation go so wrong so quickly.”

“I don’t even know what I did,” he mutters, scratching the back of his neck.

“Something she didn’t like, apparently.” She’s still giggling slightly, and Percy thinks it’s kind of cute. She’s shorter than him, and her nose has a red tint to it. He can see the puff of air each time she takes a breath, and she looks like she’s ready to go inside and curl into a ball for a nap.

“God. That’s embarrassing.”

“I got a front row seat to that show,” she says. “Why are you trying to do something nice, anyways?”

Percy is surprised that a stranger would want to talk to him after witnessing that, but he doesn’t mind. “My friend called me a horrible person and said I was going to hell.”

“Ouch.”

“That’s not exactly what he said,” he admits, “but he might as well have. He’s dead to me.”

“And yet you’re still trying to please a stranger,” she says wryly.

“I don’t want to go to hell,” he whines, and she laughs softly.

“I’m sure you won’t go to hell. You might lose your genitalia, but you’re not going to hell.”

“Yes, thank you for the reminder,” he says. The faint music in the background changes songs, and she rolls her eyes.

“This music is getting out of hand,” she says. “It’s like they’re trying to suffocate us in Christmas spirit.”

“It could be worse, don’t you think?”

“Is rather drown in eggnog than listen to another Christmas song.” She thinks for a moment, looking out into the distance off of the cliff of ice. “Can you promise to push me off this cliff if all I want for Christmas is youplays again?”

Percy chokes. “Push you off the cliff?”

“Yes, please.”

“I wouldn’t want to hurt you,” he says.

“Nothing could hurt more than having my ears bleed to that song. I think it would be easier to simply die and get reborn as Santa’s slaves in the north pole.”

“Oh, wow.”

“Besides, this could be your chance to do something nice.”

“Does murder count as something nice?”

“In certain situations, maybe.”

Percy smiles, though he instantly regrets it when his teeth start to ache. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Annabeth,” she says.

“Percy,” he returns. “So before I get arrested for shoving you off a cliff, let me just make sure I’m hearing this right. You want me to push you off that ledge if Mariah Carey starts playing?”

“Exactly. You have my full permission.”

“Great,” he chokes out. They lock eyes and chuckle slightly at their own antics. Percy thinks someone calls his name from somewhere behind him, but he’s much preoccupied to turn around. Percy doesn’t think Annabeth would be someone to bully him, unlike some friends.

Percy thinks he should write a letter to Leo about his recent harassment. He thinks little rascals is a good baseline. It would start with, Dear Darla, I hate your stinking guts. You make me vomit. You’re scum between my toes. That’ll show him.

“Are you alone?” Annabeth asks kindly.

“I’m here with my friends, but I might as well be alone. They’re mean. I don’t like them.”

“You sure they’re your friends?”

“Eh. Not really,” he says, but he’s only kidding. He loves them dearly, even if they’re the worst people he has ever met. Leo in particular.

“Lovely,” she says. Her gloved hands reach up to move a strand of hair away from her mouth. The wind has started blowing harder, and it’s beginning to tangle her hair. “I’ll be your friend, then. I won’t bully you.”

“I hardly know you. How can I be sure you won’t bully me?”

“I guess you’ll just have to stick around and find out.”

He wouldn’t mind sticking around, he thinks. Especially not with the way she’s looking at him, making him feel the urge to pull her in close and protect her from the biting winds.

As they continue talking, Percy can’t help but think that he likes her. He really like her, actually. She’s sweet and funny, always having something to quip back to him. He finds out soon that she lives quite close to him, and something in him screams to ask her if she wants to do something soon. He holds off on that, but he still can feel the way his heart threatens to pound out of his chest.

A sly grin forms on his face as he hears the change in music. It’s not a song that’s easy to miss, so it catches his ear immediately, and he is prepared.

“Hey, Annabeth.”

“What?”

“Guess what’s playing.”

She tilts her head as she listens to the music, and then she groans in annoyance. “Of course it is.”

“I promised to do something nice this Christmas.” She blinks. “You did.”

“I gotta do it to you.”

“Percy—”

“I made a promise,” he says, shrugging. He steps forwards, and she takes a step back, but there’s a wide grin on her face.

“Don’t you dare,” she threatens with zero malice in her voice.

“It’s my duty to you,” he says. “I don’t break my promises.” With that, he fulfils the gap between them, grabbing her in his arms by the waist and lifting her up. She wiggles in his grasp, letting her legs go limp, and she’s laughing until she can’t breathe.

Percy brings her to the ledge, his smile matching hers, and as he tries to drop her as gently as possible, she grabs on tighter and pulls, and he goes tumbling face-first into the snow with her.

He lands somewhat on top of her, and his face is buried surprisingly deep. He pulls his face out of the hole he’s dug, and when he looks at her, her head is thrown back as she lets out uncontrollable giggles. When she looks at him, it only gets worse.

“Your eyelashes are covered in snow,” she gasps, wiping carelessly at his face for him. She kicks him off of her lazily and leans back, looking up at the sky. “You ass.”

“I just did what you asked me to!”

“I didn’t think you’d actually do it.”

“But you’re alive, and I’ve done my good deed! We both win.”

She shakes her head at him, eyeing him is mock disappointment. “I change my mind. I am going to bully you.”

“You’d have to stick around long enough for that,” he reminds her.

“After you just tried to kill me? You bet I’m sticking around, if only for revenge.”

Percy pouts. “I’m so scared.”

“You better be because when I push you off a cliff, it isn’t going to be seven feet into snow.”

“At least I can die happy knowing that I did my good deed for the year.” Percy turns onto his size and gazes deeply into her eyes. Her eyes fit in perfectly to the scene around them, layers of white snow, barren trees in the distance, matching the grey sky above. He really does want to see her again, to find out if she’s as soft as she looks, if she’s as perfect for hugging as she seems, if she wants to kiss him as bad as he wants to kiss her.

He gets his answer when she says, “You haven’t finished your good deed quite yet.” Percy pretends to be oblivious. “Oh? What else do I need to do?”

She smiles in the perfect way he just knows he’s going to fall in love with. “Kiss me.”

He pulls her in close, both of them still laying in the snow, ice beginning to seep into their backs, and when he puts his lips to hers, she’s warm and sweet and perfect.

And when she pulls away to lock eyes with him before slamming his face back into the snow, he can’t even be mad. She’s cute, looking at him proudly, and he’s falling in love with this stranger on Christmas night.

,, courtesy of ash @silenabeth

#percabeth #percy jackson #annabeth chase #pjo #Percy Jackson and the Olympians #my writing

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fandomsonrequests · 4 years ago

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christmas with ateez (maknae line)

reader: gn!, m!, f!

notes: some cussing. read the hyung line >> here happy holidays everyone!

san

It was Christmas morning and everyone knew what that meant— gift opening time. Well, it wasn’t actually morning, it was more like early afternoon. But you and San didn’t care, you weren’t going to be late for anything so why not sleep in for a while? Anyways, you both deserved it.

San was practically vibrating with excitement at the thought of being able to give you your gift. Yours on the other hand was wrapped up neatly and tucked away in your jeans pocket. You smile to yourself, trying not to give away your own excitement.

You were pulled away from your own thoughts when you felt something large but light plop onto your lap, making Byeol (who was on your lap) scamper away by your feet instead. You gawk at the size of the gift, it was almost as big as your whole body. You stared up in pleasant surprise at San who only beamed at you, his cheeks flushed and dimpled.

“Merry Christmas _____!” He greets you, and leans in to kiss you. It was full of teeth and smiled but neither of you minded. “Go on, open it.”

You put the gift in between your legs and opened the wrapper carefully, letting out a gasp. A little backstory— you and San met at a plushie store, aiming for the same one before letting him take it in exchange for a coffee date the next week. You were both stuffed doll enthusiasts; so you were filled with joy and gratitude when you pulled out a rather large unicorn stuffed toy.

It was one you wanted when you passed by a plushie store but couldn’t get due to the lack of time. It was soft to the touch and silky, making you squeal in delight. “Oh my God, San— I love it!” You lunge at him, pressing kisses all over his face.

He wraps an arm around your waist, laughing along with you. “I’m glad you like it, baby.” He muses.

Now it was your turn to bring out your gifts. You pick up a small package from under the tree and call for Byeol. San raised a curious brow at you but said nothing, watching as the cat jumped onto your lap and purred when you started scratching behind her ear.

“How come she listens to you more than me?” He pouts when his cat basically bathes in your affection, making you giggle.

You shrug, unsure of why she prefers to listen to you. “This is for the little cutie. I’ll give you yours after you open up hers.” You tell him, the grin never leaving your face.

Once again, your boyfriend gives you a curious look before opening the gift to see a cat-sized sweater perfect for Byeol. “Oh it’s so cute! Byeol look what they got you.” He cooed to the feline who pawed at the sweater curiously. You two struggled a little to put it onto her but manage to do so. The both of you give a successful cheer when she makes no move to remove it from her body.

While San was distracted with taking photos of the cat, you stood up, pulling out a small box from your pocket. You knelt down in front of San and curled your throat, managing to get his attention. He turned to you with a puzzled look before it melted into one of shock after seeing the position you were in and the velvet box in your hand.

“_____,” He gasps, wide eyes glazing over with tears that were threatening to spill.

“San,” You breathe out.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes _______ I’ll marry you—“ He says, unable to hold back the tears while you laugh gently.

“I haven’t even said anything yet..!” You protest playfully but move to slip the ring onto his finger.

“Well either way I’d still say yes..!”

San takes a moment to admire the engagement ring, seeing the simple jewel on top of it glint from the afternoon sun. He practically throws himself onto you, crying happily into your shoulder before pulling away to give you a deep kiss. It was wet and salty— but you could feel the way he poured all his gratitude and love and passion into it.

You reach up to brush away his tears, leaning your forehead against his. “I love you so much San.”

“I love you more, _____.”

mingi

“Chunghee, Mingi— look at the camera!” You call over to your fiancé and your brother.

The two boys turn their attention from their snowboards and sleds and towards the camera you had pointed at them. They strike a silly but cute pose, waiting for you to take the photo before asking you to take another one. You indulge in their request, snapping a few more photos before letting them do their thing.

You, Mingi, and your younger brother decided to enjoy the snow for a bit. And what better way to do that than going to a ski resort? It was only for a few days but still- you were surprised, to say the least, when Mingi presented you with the confirmation email of your stay from the ski resort.

“Alright bud, just don’t hesitate. It’s a lot like skateboarding— only on the snow.” You hear your fiancé tell Chunghee as he prepares to snowboard down a small hill.

You beam at your brother and give him a good luck pat to his shoulder. “You got this. We believe in you.”

“Okay, yeah I got this. Easy peasy— no big deal.”

Your brother inhales and takes a deep breath before pushing off and going down the hill. You and Mingi cheer excitedly when he manages to slide down without toppling over, the both of you jumping up and down. Your brother beamed up at the both of you, giving you two a thumbs up.

“HELL YEAH CHUNGHEE!!” Mingi hollers, his grin so wide that his eyes turn into small crescents. He turns to you this time, his smile shifting into something more mischievous.

You know what the smile means and you shake your head, backing up from the man. “Mingi, no—“

“I haven’t even said anything..!” He protests as he advances towards you.

But before you could run, he lunges at you and pulls you right into his arms. He kisses your cheek before blowing a raspberry onto your skin, making you laugh. You try to wriggle out of his arms, arguing that Chunghee was waiting for him at the foot of the incline. But that doesn’t work because he was tugging you towards a rather large circular sled.

“Just this once, I’ll be behind you. I won’t let anything happen to you.” Mingi says, brushing away a bit of snow that fell to your hair. “Promise.”

You glanced over to the sled with cheesy Christmas patterns painted onto the side. You hear Chunghee calling out for the both of you, particularly the way he was cheering you on. “C’mon, _____! If I can do it so can you!”

“See? It’s no big deal.” Mingi adds as he was already settling into the back of the sled.

He pats the space in front of him, the dorky smile never leaving his face. You chew the inside of your cheek before relenting, releasing a defeated sigh. “Fine,” You whine as you settle into the spot in front of your fiancé.

You immediately feel his arms wrap around your waist, tugging you closer to him. You settle your hand over one of his much larger ones, and squeeze them in gratitude. He starts to push the sled forward with his other hand before calling out to the teenage boy waiting for you. “Get ready to film their reaction!” He tells them.

“Mingi wh-aAAAHHHH” Your sentence is interrupted as he launches off, the both of you sledding down the hill.

The wind rushes through your ears and you could feel the icy air brush past your face. You hear Mingi’s excited whoops and cheers as you descend. You on the other hand were yelling out of surprise and adrenaline. Sooner or later you reach the bottom of the hill where Chunghee was rushing to you, phone in hand. You couldn’t process what he was saying, the feeling of your heart beating out of your chest and the blood pumping filling your senses.

Your fiancé gently shook your shoulders, looking over at you. “You okay baby?” He asks you with a giggle.

“Y-Yeah,” You reply as you stand on shaky legs. Your brother hugs you tight, telling you how he was proud of you for braving that hill. Mingi joined in a couple of moments later.

“See? That wasn’t so bad.” The older male says as he pecks your cheek. “We’re so proud of you.”

“You wanna go again?” Chunghee asks.

You look up at the top of the hill where you came from, seeing that the drop wasn’t as big as you thought it was. Your lips slowly form into a determined grin. “Alright, lets do this again.”

wooyoung

“Honey, no offense but what the fuckis that?” Wooyoung asks in slight horror when he sees your runny icing batter.

You sigh in slight frustration and drop the large spoon into the bowl, wiping your hands on the apron around your waist. “I knew it, I knew something went wrong.”

Your boyfriend only chuckled, shaking his head. You see, the two of you thought it would be a great idea to bake a gingerbread house from scratch. Granted, you two got a fairly popular recipe from the internet but it’s the effort that counts. And for a while, things were going great. The gingerbread pieces came out alright and we’re cooling down on the trays.

It was the icing that was supposed to hold them that was the problem. Wooyoung was tasked with the cookie people and house pieces, as well as some other parts to add to it, while you were tasked with the icing. Unlike your boyfriend, you weren’t blessed with much skills in the kitchen. Which is why you left the cooking to him and you were stuck on cleanup duty.

“Okay baby boy don’t panic,” he tells you as he grabs some of the powdered sugar to add to the icing in order to thicken it.

He looks up to see you by the side with a small pout on your lips, causing him to laugh and hug you. He nuzzled into your cheek when one of your arms came up to wrap around his waist, pressing a kiss to your jaw before leaning in to give you a proper one. “Don’t be sad, you actually did well for a first try.” He mumbles against your lips, pecking them one last time before pulling away completely to continue mixing the icing.

“That’s a biased answer,” You argue as you clean up the kitchen counter, curiously poking at the gingerbread pieces. “You’re only saying that ‘cos you’re dating me.”

“What? No, no, no, I’m being genuine.” He refutes as he sets down the spoon once he was done mixing the icing. “Now help me dye this icing.”

You waddled over to him and nuzzled into his neck, hugging him from behind and placing a sweet kiss to his cheek. “What would I do without you..?”

“Burn this whole kitchen down probably,” He teases as he basks in your affection. He pulls you back towards him with his adorable high-pitched laugh when you throw him an unamused glare and detach yourself from him. “I’m kidding, don’t give me that look.”

He turns around and wraps his arms around your neck, your own going around his waist. He leaned his forehead against yours and nuzzled your nose with his. “I’m proud of you _____. Thank you for doing this with me.”

You couldn’t help but crack a small smile at that, closing the gap between you two for a short but sweet kiss. You grin into it, him doing the same, bursting into another bout of giggles when your fingers tickle his sides. He begs you to stop, saying that one of you could knock over the food, and successfully pries your wriggling digits away from him.

“Come on, this gingerbread family needs a house built for them.”

jongho

“Areum, can you open the door please?” You call out to your teenage sister who was brooding on the couch, phone in hand.** **

She sighs heavily, irritation clear in her tone. You couldn’t really blame her- she did go through an ugly breakup this season. One that was done over the phone when she caught her boyfriend cheating on her with a good friend of yours. You tried your best as an older sister to get her cheered up. One of these attempts was calling your boyfriend Jongho over. The two practically adored each other, so hopefully being around each other would lift her spirits.

Areum’s gloomy face brightened significantly when she saw her future brother-in-law(strike that) your boyfriend behind the door. “Hey,” She greeted him with a hug who reciprocated it.

He ruffled her hair and stepped in when she allowed him in. “Why the long face, kiddo?” He asks.

“Its Jack; he cheated on me with Winny _and _dumped me over the phone.” Areum sighs as she sits down on the couch beside him.

You soon join the two on the couch as she pours her heart away to him. You’d occasionally provide some information, supporting your sister’s story. By the end of her story, tears were slowly trickling down her cheeks. Jongho reached up to gently brush them away, hand traveling down to her shoulder and offering a supportive squeeze.

“What do you say that we put into the snow and get your mind off of it?” He suggested and looked over to you, eyes silently asking if it was okay.

“That sounds like a good idea,” You add and nudge your sister with your elbow. “Wanna have a snowball fight? Us against Jongho?”

The said man gave a whine of protest, successfully eliciting a soft chuckle from Areum. She sniffles and brushes away the rest of her tears. “Alright- get ready to lose big guy.”

You told the pair to go on ahead, tossing Areum her gloves, coat, and scarf. Jongho makes small talk with her when he notices her suddenly stop mid-sentence and freeze. He saw that her haze was elsewhere and followed it all the way to a teenage boy with a girl on his arms. It didn’t take long for him to realize that the guy must’ve been her boyfriend. He looked back to Areum who had fresh tears pooling in the corner of her eyes.

His heart clenched at the sight and a quiet rage was lit inside of him. Jongho leaned down to grab a fistful of snow, compacting it into a tight ball before catching your sister’s attention. “Hey Areum, watch this.” He smiles, a bit devilishly, before chucking the snowball towards the boy.

Splat.

The snowball hits the poor kid straight in the face. This causes Areum to snort out in laughter. She decided to partake in the fun, allowing Jack and Winny’s momentary confusion to give her a chance to make a couple of snowballs, throwing it at the two of them. Sooner or later, you and Jongho were tossing a merciless volley of snowballs at the two, making them whine in protest.

“C’mon man what the fuck???” Jack yelled in annoyance.

“You’re lucky that’s all you get for messing with my baby sister!” Jongho yelled back and stepped aside to allow Areum to throw another ball at him.

You rush outside to see the commotion. The sight was funny, seeing the younger couple be hit relentlessly, but the pacifist in you told you that it was too much. “Okay, okay- you two they got the message.” You laugh as you stop them, looking back to the others to see them dusting the snow off their clothes. “God, you guys really let them have it.”

You manage to calm the two down, steering them away from the cheaters when Jack called out. “Yeah that’s right- get your bitch ass sister to protect you..!”

The insult makes you stop in your tracks, the cheery disposition dissipating. Without another word, Areum grins and hands you a snowball which you gladly took. And before Jack knew what had happened, you threw the ball right at him, hitting him directly in the face and causing him to fall back into the snow. Areum and Jongho let out an excited whoop.

“You wanna say that again?!” You ask, moving to gather more balls.

Winny, being sensible enough, tugged Jack away before the three of you could chase them away. You three share a laugh, watching as the pair run away like cowards. Serves them right.

“You ladies are deadly,” Jongho muses.

Areum couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s why you’re so into my sister. That’s your type.” She chuckles. But before Jongho could quip back, she had already tossed a ball at him, followed by you throwing another one.

He laughs, baring his cute gummy smile. “Alright- you two asked for it.”

You and Areum squeal in delight as he chases the two of you around, volleys of snowballs being exchanged. Sure the day started off glum, but at least now it could end with joy paired with the warmth of hot chocolate that was soon to come.

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peachnewt · 4 years ago

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Midnight Snack - Gingerbread 1

Merry Christmas, ya’ll!

I wanted to do something for the holidays involving my slow burn boys. Somehow, this rose to the top. Here is the first taste of Louis and Will switching places in the pred/prey relationship, while in a fantasy setting. ^_^

Midnight Snack - Gingerbread

by peachnewt

Part 1

Once upon a time, a mountain in the West grew so tall that it's peaks, covered in icy snow, would reflect the sun's light like a candle, lighting the valley with a golden glow an hour after sunset. Thus, the mountain was called the Lantern Pillars and the inhabitants of the valley benefitted from the extra hours of light to store away supplies for the harsh winter and pursue artistic endeavors. Buildings and towers stretched like candles ever upwards, bearing banners and stained glass that could be seen in any blizzard. The valley, called Wax Wake, became the jewel of the Pillars, a destination for many nobles and merchant passing through the mountains with their exotic goods.

But one area of the Pillars lay in the lee of the various crags and slopes in the mountain range; a rocky, forested area called the Greyfells. In that dim and cold stretch of land lived a giant name Louis, the Grey.

Louis was an imposing figure, standing almost eighty feet high with wide shoulders, ice gray eyes, and a silvery blond mane of hair. This wasn't a "fee-fi-fo-fum" giant that barreled around the countryside in rough furs, demanding maidens to keep his cave tidy, or oxen to feed his hunger, or gold to upkeep his lifestyle. His mother raised him and his two older brothers better. He kept his cave in semi-chaotic order with baskets and hangers for his possessions, did his own laundry, varied his diet with vegetables and other forage-foods so he didn't need to spend as much money on meat, and he had a yearly stipend for protecting mountain passes from bandits and clearing out rubble for merchant caravans.

But Louis still wore rough furs. Why wear fine wool or linens when they would tear on the slopes? Plus it was cold up there.

And Louis did have a temper. While he didn't boom "fee-fi-fo-fum", he did grumble like a storm when the local coffee house didn't count out enough beans to last until his next monthly grocery run. It was basic math, take the normal about of coffee a person needed and scale it up by sixteen.

When one passed through the mountain trails they saw deep pits from fists, slashes of red, and the strike of an axe blade bigger than a wagon. Sometimes, at night when the Lantern Pillars had dimmed the townsfolk could see sparks flying in the Greyfells, an axe hitting stone. They heard tale of blood-thirst and violence from a surviving bandit that surrendered himself to the authorities in Wax Wake after the band he had been allied with had been destroyed.

At one point in the early Autumn, Louis left for a week. "Visiting family", he said to those left in charge of the mountain pass. When he came back, he had dark bags under his eyes, a large sack over his shoulder, and a posture akin to a starved wolf.

"I'm working on something important," he growled at the human guards. "I'll do my rounds, but don't expect anything else unless it's an emergency."

It had been customary for Wax Wake to hire the giant to help clean the stain glass of their towers, since he could reach them so easily, and hang the new banners for the winter celebrations. They dared not ask this year. Louis stayed in the Greyfells.

No One with any brains or sense of self preservation wandered near the Greyfells, or pried into Louis the Grey's business.

***

"If I had any brains I would have stayed with a caravan and waited until morning," William hissed to himself and the blizzard. His booted feet sunk into another snowdrift.

William had been traveling with a group of builders and craftsmen on their way to Wax Wake to peddle their wears and skills. It was a rite of passage to try their hands in the jeweled city. But their wagon axel broke halfway down the mountain. They hadn't the supplies to repair it and civilization was half a day away. William had offered to find help, and went off in the direction of Wax Wake. Except a blizzard had descended; white, blinding, howling, turning him around until he could not tell north from south.

Night had fallen. William, still lost, squinted for any sign of light in the darkness. He tucked his hands under his armpits, sinking his chin into the scarf around his neck.

His nose, not his sight, had been his salvation. William smelled cloves, ginger, and cinnamon on the breeze. Cookies? William thought. Spicebread? He hadn't eaten since noon and his stomach growled, bidding him onward.

He saw a faint light in the same direction as the scent. Shelter, he hoped.

William wove through the trees and scratching branches until the bramble broke into a clearing pure white. The wind died in the circle, the snow and moonlight pristine as it lit up a lopsided brown shack caked in bits of white. William didn't care how badly made the domicile was, it was shelter from the cold, hopefully occupied with someone that could help him, and feed him.

"Hello?" William trudged on towards the shack. Warm spice hung in the air along with the overwhelming aroma of sugar. And the snow under his feet felt different, more like sand.

He peered into the shack. A stub of a candle, as big around as his thigh, had been lit and took up the majority of the wooden floor. No furniture, no people aside from him.

"Anyone home?"

What an odd house, he mused. Stepping inside, the smell of gingerbread surrounded him, yet the only piece of gingerbread he saw was a stale hunk the size of his fist to the side of the candle. If no one was home, they wouldn't be grudge him a bit of gingerbread from the floor.

While chewing on the hunk of gingerbread, delicious, he examined the rest of the rough house. The vaulted roof had gaps filled in with a white paste burned from the candle. His eye followed the wall, attached to the roof with a tilt, leaving another gap filled in with white paste. The house wasn't hewn from stone, brick, or wood. Was it wattle and daub? Clay?

Will tested a ragged, brown wall, scratching it with a cold fingernail. "It's gingerbread?"

The tiny scratch, however, was enough to test the structural integrity of the shack and find it wanting.

Down came the walls, burying William in giant slabs of gingerbread, snuffing the candle.

---

Will woke stuck between a pool of slowly cooling wax and a slab of gingerbread pinning him across his stomach. Will gasped, trying to fill his lungs. Despite its confectionary nature, the slab of what had once been a roof, or perhaps a wall, could not be shifted no matter how much he struggled. Pinned as he was, he couldn't eat his way out either. He would either freeze to death, or suffocate.

Will bleated out into the night for help until his throat felt like sand and the wax under him had hardened. Then he heard a rumble, vibrating the ground and making the edge of the roof dig deeper into his belly.

An avalanche?

Instead Will heard of roar of frustration and the slab over him was lifted as if it was light as a feather.

A giant face, bearded, blond, and full of icy fury stared at him. The whispered giant of the Greyfells dressed in furs and breath of frost.

"Are you fuckin' kidding me?!"

***

Louis had stomped through the forest towards the protective circle he had set up for his project. He carried a bag of red candies and a pot of icing with a small trowel. If he could get all of the decorations up tonight then he could sleep in the next day. When he arrived, he saw a set of footprints in the pristine snow, and the gingerbread house collapsed. Of course when he lifted the roof he'd find a meddling human.

"Are you fuckin' kidding me!?" Louis snapped.

"What?" breathed the human.

Louis tossed the gingerbread roof to the ground where it broke into four pieces, and then pulled the brown haired human out with one hand. He stared at little menace, eye to beady eye. "I've been trying to keep this damned house together with sugar paste and a prayer, and then you come along and nibble on it like a fuckin' mouse until it falls?!"

"It was an accident!" yelled the human, pawing at the large hand that held him with his one free arm. The tips of his feet, sticking out the other end of the giant's fist, twitched. "I was lost and looking for shelter and food. And the shack wasn't stable, I barely touched it! And the only piece of gingerbread I ate had already fallen from the walls!"

"Shack!?" Fury lit up the giant's eyes like lightning. He squeezed the human just enough to make him wheeze. "I worked all day on this house and you call it a shack?"

"S-sorry, but by definition it was a shack. Though a delicious one. I'm sure you can build a better one in a few hours."

Louis didn't want to admit that the fallen shack had taken him two days, and had been his best effort out of seven.

"I'm out of patience, out of my mind, and out of coffee," growled Louis. He felt cruel and liked it, tapping into the reputation giants had gained as blood-thirsty ogres. "You picked the wrong day to piss me off. Cause I also haven't eaten in the last five days."

Will gulped, suddenly nervous at seeing the giant's perfect grin. "There is something admiral to be found in fasting in protest or in pursuit of a passion. Why break such a streak? Why not six days?"

"Oh, I don't know." Louis let his growling stomach speak for itself, causing the human to blanche. "Maybe because it'll make me feel better."

"I'm sure we can talk about this in a reasonable manner!" screeched the human as he was pulled closer to the giant's mouth.

"Reason left long ago." Around the same time he had left to visit home and got saddled with this ridiculous task.

"There is always time for reason. Starting with introductions! I'm William James Rowe from Brex." William stuck his hand out in the giant's directions, as if expecting a handshake. "And you are?"

Louis unclenched his jaw and breathed in the smell of sweat, sugar, and fear. "Hungry."

Part 2

#Giant/tiny #pred/prey #midnight snack #g/t writing #peachnewt

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