#hush first time drawing a christmas tree

[pinep-ne]

More of a drabble (deepest apologies) and a little Jovier doodle cause u deserve it (to make up for it) ^_^

AHH!!! First time drawing them...

Anywho. (Lifting the cloche) Your fic, @officialbugdrink...

Placed in Blackwater, pre-canon, where instead of acquaintances, Charles and Arthur's relationship is semi-established.

(i have this fic and more posted on ao3!)

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"Charles."

The voice behind him is out of breath. Charles had already known who it was before a word was uttered. Arthur tends to stumble about a lot, not necessarily stomping unless he's particularly angry, but there's an off-kilter sway to it, and it holds an odd little rhythm Charles can recognize yards away.

He turns behind him and sure enough, the man stands before him, clouds of soft white billowing from his nose and mouth, chin tilted down, unconsciously searching for the warmth of his fleece-lined collar. Looking a lot like he has no clue how he got there in the first place.

Charles turns to him fully. The lantern sitting at his feet— its amber light shifting, casting different in angles upon Arthur's unsure expression. He has his hands behind his back, very obviously putting a wall between Charles himself and the culprit of his own bashfulness.

Charles finds it so endearing in this moment he feels he's forgotten how to breathe. He sets his rifle against the tree he's been leaning on.

"Arthur," he says, like a soft sigh. "Why're you up so late?"

Arthur shifts again, turning his head to behind him, very inconspicuously, then back to Charles.

His voice stays hushed like the entire world is listening. "I know you ain't like a whole lotta attention, figured you was guarding tonight, woulda made it a little more... well..." Arthur trails off, averting his gaze again, shoulders dropping. Then, he starts up as he usually does, as if he's been shocked. Opens his mouth, and shuts it; another telling quirk of his.

"I made you somethin'," he settles on.

Before Charles can even process it, Arthur's slowly revealed the item in his hands, unable to hold back a smile. A small, whittled figure. Charles stares blankly at the thing, then back to Arthur, before he recognizes its shape.

It's... a horse. Not much bigger than his palm, carved and smoothened by deft yet obviously intermediate hands. Arthur's steps forward, offering for Charles to take it, like they're exchanging some divine, precious object.

Precious, certainly. "It's Taima," Arthur exclaims, a little less quiet than before.

"Arthur, I've never..."

"I know!" He huffs, "I just wanted to give you somethin' anyway. An' the gangs doing the whole gift thing come morning. Lord knows I'd get shit for the next week, if I'd shown you this then. Save us both the trouble."

Charles runs his thumb along the detail, still fixated on it, feeling like his heart's caught in his throat. It certainly looks like her, now. Stylized slightly, but the head especially, her character portrayed to an impressive extent. He's known about Arthur's sketches. Seeing it translated to a tangible, sentimental thing, and a craft born from love specifically, is a whole other experience he's found himself unprepared for.

It was the smallest detail he'd shared over a few beers; only the vast prairie and Arthur having the ears to hear it. A simple admission, that he's never really had the opportunity to celebrate anything close to Christmas. As a child, it simply wasn't a part of his culture. Now it's merely on account of his lack of community, of permanence, and by that matter, any relation to anyone.

Arthur, still, rambles on all matter-of-factly. As if the gesture isn't completely shattering Charles where he stands, unable to yet say anything. Soon though, he notices, and immediately begins to wind down. Takes it as distaste, maybe. He starts spewing out empty apologies, under the guise of reassurances, doused greatly in insecurity, as he usually does when he can't really make sense of a reaction.

Charles doesn't take the time to decipher it, only grabs Arthur by his collar before the man can tear away anymore pages, catching him in a fleeting kiss. Embodying the desperate need to express something back; so rushed that it's painful. He snakes a hand, occupied with the little figure, beneath Arthur's arm, covering the expanse of his back— embracing.

"Thank you," he manages, muffled somewhere in the fleece of Arthur's coat. The figure is warm in his hand, as are the arms wrapped around him, and the body that sways them both.

[eddiemunson-reader-shame]

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader: Space Oddity, Part 1

In my ongoing quest to write more self indulgent reader inserts, I present to you: Weird Reader.

Sorry guys, but in school I played with the girls who pretended to be Warrior Cats, and ate lunch with guys who unironically did the Naruto run. The only thing separating me from this reader in this story is the fact that I mask in public and unmask at home.

[Chapter Two]

***

“You want me to play D&D with you guys?”

You watched with suspicious eyes as Mike Wheeler and Dustin Henderson nodded frantically, stirring the sweet, syrupy dessert of fruit cocktail in your lunch tray compartment. Staring at you was like staring at a taxidermy raccoon: you were dead eyed, but still positioned as though you could jump out and give someone rabies.

If he had been asked at gunpoint, Mike would have admitted that you were a last resort choice.

“Yeah…” Mike said cautiously, trying not to stare directly into your eyes.

Dustin smiled, leaning forward.

“You like D&D, right?” He tried, hopeful.

Everyone they had asked in Hawkins High had so far said no to subbing in for Lucas Sinclair, and Mike had balked at the idea of even thinking of asking you when they got rejected for the fifth time. You were even worse than the freaks of Hawkins High. The collective student body had come together as one to declare that you were a weird, mean bitch.

“I like what I’ve heard of it…” you mumbled, “I never played it before…”

Dustin’s face lit up like a Christmas tree.

“Really?” He asked, his geometric pattern button up nearly dipping into his open can of chocolate pudding, “Never ever? So you’d need to be taught?”

Before you could venture an answer, Mike pulled him back.

“Could you-… Could you just excuse us please? Thank you.”

You nodded slowly while Mike dragged Dustin away to a corner of the bustling lunchroom. While they conversed in hushed whispers, you sat there alone, the students sharing your space giving you a wide berth at the head of the lunch table.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?!” Mike hissed at Dustin, “You’re going to ask The Bitch to play, and she’s never even played D&D before?!”

Mike knew the stories. Robin had once asked to borrow a pencil from your jubilee of pens you kept in the pocket of your shortalls. Reluctantly you agreed, and then you had a meltdown when she took the flat contractor’s pencil with the He-Man sticker on it. Steve had told any of The Party who would listen about his encounter: even Eleven could perfectly recite the story about the weird girl who had flat tired Steve in the hall every day at 9am when he walked by Mrs. Click’s class, ruining the backs of his brown suede moccasins so often that his mom stopped replacing them after a while. His description of the perp matched you exactly.

Even Mike on his first day of school had been subject to your oddities. A casual lunchtime stroll found him tripping over a trap, made of plastic milk crates and dead branches you’d constructed by the football field. The encounter ended with him being subjected to your twenty minute screaming lecture on why it was rude of him to wreck the “houses” you’d made for the skinks that darted around the concrete walkways.

Mike Wheeler hated you because of reputation, but Dustin knew better than to fall victim to heresy. He had seen the drawings of dragons, daleks, dinosaurs, wolves and mermaids on xerox paper you had left behind once in the lunchroom. When he found you to give them back (you didn’t say thank you), he’d been gifted with a drawing a day later in his locker: a very detailed Spock giving the Vulcan salute, “Live Long and Prosper” written underneath in bubble letters above your loopy cursive signature. He still kept it taped to his Geometry folder.

“Dude, yes! Chill out!” Dustin hissed back, looking at you fondly from a distance, “You remember what Eddie said? ‘Find the little lost sheepies that need us’. Look at her, man. Doesn’t that scream little lost sheep to you?”

They turned to look at you simultaneously. After looking both ways to check the coast was clear, you commandeered Dustin’s abandoned chocolate pudding. Spooning the syrupy peaches, pears, pineapple, and single half of maraschino cherry of your fruit cocktail inside, you mixed the chocolate and fruit together. Lathing up the leftover pudding with your tongue, the spoon was licked clean before you tossed it vaguely into an indignant girl’s creamed corn, but she was too afraid to yell at you while you were armed with chocolate.

With great relish you began eating your concoction with your fingers.

Mike grimaced while Dustin just laughed.

“She’s perfect.” Dustin gushed, “And you should see her drawings, they’re badass!”

“Just because she’s a gross weirdo who’s good at drawing doesn’t mean she knows jackshit about tabletop games!” Mike growled, nearly gagging when he saw you mop up the leftover pudding in the can with your bread roll, “You bring a beginner into Hellfire Club, Eddie’s gonna blow a goddamn gasket! He’s already on the warpath because of Lucas’ championship game tonight, can you imagine what he’ll do when we bring in The Bitch?!”

“Mike, relax. Eddie’s not going to know she’s a novice. Everyone still flips through the handbook, they won’t notice if she does it. We’ll give her a crash course, I’ll even let her borrow my Player’s Handbook so she can come in looking like she at least knows the basics. And if Eddie does get pissed we can just… ease him into the idea that a succulent babe wants to play with him.”

Dustin made the shape of a curved figure with his hands, while Mike looked ready to punch him in the groin.

“You think he’s going to fold for a fat girl?” Mike snarled.

“… Shut up Mike,” Dustin said, immediately protective of you, “He’s going to fold for a cute girl. Look at her! Soft arms, round face, thick thighs… Eddie’s gonna lose his goddamn mind, man! That’s like his ideal type.”

They continued to argue back and forth, finally coming to a grudging resolution when Dustin dragged Mike back by the shirt to your lunch table.

“If this goes to shit, I know where you live.” Mike hissed quietly.

“Shhhh!” Dustin slapped Mike’s arm before looking back at you with a dopey grin.

You were staring down both of them, eyes flicking from Dustin to Mike. The empty pudding cup can was sitting exactly where it had been once full before, but the pop top was gone, and you were pretending like you hadn’t just gone to town on an unholy concoction.

“I made a decision.” You said suddenly.

The two freshmen looked at one another, before leaning in closer. Mike looked skeptical, but Dustin’s grin was nearly splitting his face in half.

“I’ll play with you guys.” You said after a few seconds.

Dustin couldn’t help but fist pump into the air, nearly tipping over backwards on his chair while Mike just grimaced like he was about to puke. An imperfect smile with chocolate teeth flashed at the boys, and you were just about to speak when Mike stopped the party.

“Okay, listen… if you’re going to play, you’re going to have to put in the work, it’s not like playing Monopoly.” He said, staring you down, “This is serious shit.”

You closed your mouth, head tilting to the side.

“Oh… I thought it was like, making your own characters and pretending to be them and stuff.” You said.

“It is, but it’s a lot more nuanced than that. Our Advanced D&D campaigns are different. We play very combat heavy sessions, we use actual strategy in battle. It’s not a goddamn tea party.”

“And Eddie takes the rules very seriously…” Dustin chimed in, “So we’ll have to familiarize you with the basics.”

“Eddie!?”

Both boys jumped back as you banged your hands on the table, getting up close and nearly crawling on top over to them. The students sitting next to you collectively jumped, the metal legs of their chairs scraping and making a horrid screech against the linoleum flooring.

“You mean… you’re talking about Eddie The Freak, right?” You hissed under your breath.

“Eddie Munson.” Dustin corrected, frowning when you called him a freak, “He’s the dungeon master of our club… of Hellfire Club.”

Your eyes widened, and your chest began to rise and fall rapidly.

“You’re right though. That is the very same freak.” Mike cut in, lowering his pitch hoping that feeding into the negativity would scare you away, “He’s a dick to newcomers. You might get the boot if he finds out we brought you in without having any background knowledge of D&D.”

His words made you shrink back, looking at your lunch tray and the little mess of chocolate you’d unknowingly splattered on your clothes. Dustin could have killed Mike, while the latter just looked smug.

And then… you began to giggle.

“Okay…” you smiled.

“Okay?!” Mike and Dustin repeated.

Mike managed to speak up while Dustin was still picking his smiling jaw up off the floor.

“You’re sure you still want to play?” Mike asked, panicking as he pulled out all the stops to get you to quit, “Eddie is not a patient guy with new players, he’s going to rip you to pieces and sacrifice you to the devil!”

You nodded quickly, breathlessly hyperventilating.

“Yeah…! I… If Eddie Munson is running the game… I really wanna play.”

Dustin gave a high pitched giggle of his own and shook Mike’s shoulder, absolutely loving the way your face broke out into a goofy grin. You didn’t even flinch at Mike’s attempts to scare you.

“You got a thing for him or something?” Mike ventured cautiously.

“Yes.”

You answered so unabashedly, with no hesitation, that for a minute it actually endeared you to Mike. Who knew that The Bitch of Hawkins High was actually a human being with wants and needs?

“Wait… are you serious?” Mike asked.

“Uh huh…”

You giggled, biting your lower lip and covering your burning face.

“I think… I think he’s really hot…”

If they had been drinking Tab, they would have spit the liquid out all over you.

“You think Eddie’s hot?” Dustin wheezed.

“Yeah… um… I’ve had this like monster crush on Eddie since I was in fifth grade. He did like this talent show and played the guitar real good, and he’s all loud and funny and crazy and I think he’s got a real charming smile…”

The cadence in your already deep contralto was lilting into a mezzo soprano the more you talked about their sadistic dungeon master, and you were rocking side to side in your plastic chair while Dustin and Mike just watched you make a complete ass of yourself.

This probably would have turned into two hours of blabbing, had not Mike refocused you and Dustin and begun to actually lay out the basics of TSR’s Advanced Dungeons and Dragons. No time to lose, back to business. If you were going to play with Eddie you had a lot of catching up to do. They had a spare set of dice, and Mike helped you roll for stats as Dustin began to write out a crude character sheet for you based on your imaginative ideas.

“We can probably make you a character very quickly.” Mike said, flipping through his own Mead Composition notebook as he checked past characters that had died valiantly in battle, “I have one you can use. Barbarians are stupid easy for first timers since you’re just hitting shit with a sword-...”

“I want a character based on my story I’m writing!” You exclaimed, and then you subjected Mike to your brief (lie) synopsis of one of many witchy characters who was cursed by a dark goddess.

It took a lot of adjusting and words that held no meaning to you, like “Domain of Trickery” and “Cleric of Shar”. The two freshmen helped you settle on a character that would be deemed useful for Hellfire’s campaign, and made sure to force feed you every rule and spell that Gygax and Arneson had conceived for your chosen class. True to his word, Dustin let you borrow the Player’s Handbook he carried with him at all times when the bell to conclude lunch rang out. You took it with promises that you’d give it back when you met them outside of the drama room later after school, already burying your nose in the pages when you walked off to your class.

The boys saw a different side of you that possibly no one else in the school ever had: a familiar side, a human side. A side that was brutally honest and sometimes a little mean, but just as vulnerable and relatable as anyone else. A consensus had been reached during their shared English class: you were definitely weird, but actually pretty smart and imaginative. Possibilities of keeping you on as a permanent member were being discussed when Dustin and Mike found you hiding behind the lockers just outside the drama room around three pm.

“What are you doing?” Mike asked.

You shook your head, clutching your fat trapper keeper to your chest and handing Dustin back his Player’s Handbook.

“Eddie’s in there…” you muttered, chewing on the spine of your trapper keeper covered in duct tape

“Yeah, he usually gets there with Jeff, Gareth and Frank really early, to set up the map and the dice towers.” Mike nodded.

From the rectangular slat of a window, one could see Gareth and Frank meticulously setting up Jenga pieces and miniatures on top of a slab of butcher paper marked in sharpie, janky cindrilical tubes painted to look like castle towers were set up at each place at the table (the dice towers, fashioned from Pringles cans, cardboard, glue and paint). Eddie and Jeff were deep in conversation, plugging in lamps and electric candelabras left over from the drama club’s last production of ‘Pride and Prejudice’. Inside the mood was almost holy, reverent (or like Eddie liked to call it: a softcore porn on Valentine’s day mood), and the boys couldn’t help the eagerness as they went to the door.

You, however, stayed firmly planted behind the lockers.

“What are you doing?!” Mike hissed, “Come on! We’re gonna be late because of you!”

“I don’t wanna go in…!” You snapped back, suddenly shy.

Mike looked at Dustin, ready to destroy him, while Dustin tried to talk you down.

“Hey, hey! Come on, it’s okay. Don’t worry! You have a good character, and if you need help you can just sit with me and Mike-…”

“But what if he doesn’t like me?” You protested.

“I swear to you on my mother that Eddie is going to love you.” Dustin said, trying to calm you down, “You’re great. You actually came with a character to play, and he’s going to be so happy that a girl is showing interest in his hobbies.”

You were about to turn tail and leave when you felt an iron grip around the meat of your bicep, pulling you forward with an unnatural strength born entirely of Nerd Rage.

“Oh hell no!” Mike said, pulling you kicking and protesting towards the door, “You’re not doing this to me right now god dammit! You’re going to get your ass in there, and you’re going to play! I didn’t sit through lunch listening to your weird edgy character backstory just so you could pussy out at the last minute! Now get your ass. In. NOW!”

With a harsh shove, you flew into the drama room – tripping on your own two feet trying to catch yourself – and spilling the contents of your trapper keeper all over the ground. Strong hands caught you before you face planted into the floor, holding you steady.

“Easy, easy!” Called out a familiar voice, “Goddamn... What the hell was that for, Mike?! You could’ve broken her nos-…”

Eddie Munson’s voice trailed off, and the boys watched as their fearless leader, their metalhead bard, began to stare open mouthed slack jawed at you.

“You told us to find a lost sheep.” Mike snarled, “So here she is.”

[paperclip-skz]

Christmas Special 😉

Happy Holidays.

head cannons ( smut + fluff + angst + delulu )

2.6k words

**********

Christmas special 

Chan could hardly contain his excitement as he watched you approach the Christmas tree, the twinkling lights casting a warm glow across the room. Beneath the branches, nestled among the vibrant wrapping paper and seasonal decorations, lay a small, elegant velvet box, its rich color drawing your attention immediately. Inside that delicate box rested the most important question one could ask in a relationship—a question that could change everything. 

As he stood by, his heart raced at the thought of sharing this pivotal moment with you. He envisioned the look of surprise that would light up your face, the way your eyes could widen in recognition of the significance of what lay within. All you had to do was open the box, and in that instant, both of your lives could transform. The anticipation hung in the air, thick and sweet, as he waited for you to take that first step into a future he had long dreamed of sharing with you.

You crawled underneath the tree, grabbing the first tiny box you saw. To: my heart, from your love. 

“What’s this?” you ask, curiosity making your insides twist. 

“Open it” is all he says, his smile shining brightly. 

As you gently open the tiny box, a gasp catches in your throat, and your eyes widen in disbelief. Tears threaten to spill over as you take in the beauty of what lies inside.

Chan shifts from his spot and crawls next to you, his gaze sincere. “There’s no one else I would rather be with than you,” he says, cupping your face in his hands. His voice is a tender whisper that pours his heart and soul into every word.

You can’t bear to let him finish, your heart racing as you nod emphatically, tears cascading down your cheeks. “I love you with all my heart, and it would mean the world to me to make you smile every day,” he adds, laughter dancing in his voice as he watches joy bloom across your face.

In a rush of emotion, you lean in and kiss him passionately, not waiting for his response. The warmth of the moment envelops you both, and when he finally speaks, his smile is radiant. “So is that a yes?” he asks, hope shining in his eyes. 

Minho wasn’t sleeping; he couldn’t. The morning sun crept through the curtains of your shared room, illuminating your peaceful expression as you slept. Outside, the Christmas morning snow blanketed the ground, and he loved it when it snowed on Christmas. The warmth inside promised a cozy holiday spent just the two of you, wrapped in the comforts of home.

“I love you,” he whispered softly. It had already been a year, and he still hadn’t said it out loud. He knew he should have expressed those words the moment he saw you, but they always got trapped in his throat whenever he tried to tell you while you were awake.

He struggled with expressing his feelings, particularly these. “I love you,” he said again, keeping his voice low so he wouldn’t wake you. This had become a habit for him—saying “I love you” while you were asleep. He repeated those words every time he woke up before you. He knew he couldn’t say them when you were awake; somehow, every time he attempted it, his voice just wouldn’t cooperate.

You hummed in your sleep, scooting closer to him. He wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. He kissed your forehead, and your eyelids fluttered awake. He loved how you looked in the morning—lightly groggy, sure, but it was the pure definition of warmth. Your hair was slightly messy, and your face was bare, but you always held a sleepy smile across your lips, which he loved.  

His chest filled with not only desire but a warmth he knew all too well. It was the same warmth he felt every time he saw you sleeping, the same warmth before he hushed the words you needed to hear.  

“Good morning,” you stretched, burying your face into his chest.  

He hummed, smiling warmly at you. “Merry Christmas,” you mumbled, wrapping your arms around his body.  

He was so utterly in love with you, he could barely comprehend it… “I love you,” he whispered. You lifted your head, not recognizing the words at first.  

“Huh?” you asked, a lazy smile draped on your face.  

“I... I love you,” he said again, this time, for the first time ever, as clearly as day.  

Your face fell open in shock before lighting up like a kid at Christmas. “I LOVE YOU TOO,” you tackled him, straddling his lap and kissing him. 

Panic courses through every vein in your body; you’ve never been this nervous since your first high school dance. Even then, it wasn’t as nerve-racking.  

“Baby, they are going to love you.” Changbin comes over to you, soothing your arms. Of course, he’s calm; this is completely normal for him. He sees them constantly; this is nothing for him.  

But for you, this is your first time meeting his group, his friends, his second family—some of the most important people in his life. “I just really want to make a good impression. Is this enough food? Is it too much? Did we forget something?” You rush through your words, but Changbin quickly seizes you and silences more words with a searing kiss.  

He grabs hold of your neck, connecting your lips with his and holding you there until he can feel you relax into his touch. Your whole body melts like liquid as his tongue demands entrance between your already swollen lips.  

“Calm now?” he whispers against your lips.  

“Mmhmm,” you hum, still relishing the feeling of his touch…until the timer for the ham goes off, and panic surges through you like you just spotted a spider on the ceiling.  

“Shit!” You push Changbin out of the way, nearly making him fall over. And at that point…all he can do is giggle and smile.

Hyunjin hated the sounds of Christmas. He hated the whole idea of it. The idea of a holiday where you are grounded in the fact that nothing is enough. Not enough gifts. Not enough prensesnts. Not enough money. Not enough time. The idea that he was not enough for the holiday. 

The fact that he was walking around a holiday market in his black oversized jacket with his friends was a miracle in itself.

His friends had coaxed him into coming to the holiday market. While they shopped and marveled at the decorations, he stood there, waiting for the torture to end.

Until…he heard you.

He tried his hardest to drown out the slurred words of the drunk carolers, but your voice was loud and clear. You sang each song distinctly. Unlike the others, you weren’t drunk or mumbling through the lyrics; you were singing with clarity.

“At least someone knows the words,” he thought. Forgetting about his friends, he followed the sound of your sweet voice. There you were, in a small circle of tipsy carolers who didn’t know the lyrics. You stood in the middle, wearing a bright red coat and a fluffy hat.

He paused, not caring how people passed by; he was simply captivated by your beautiful singing, even if only for a moment. A warmth spread through his chest, something he had never felt before.

Once the song ended and you took a break, he saw his chance. “E-excuse me?” he stammered.

You turned your head quickly, “Yeah?”

“You guys sang really well,” he blurted out, surprised at his own nervousness. He was never one to fumble over his words.

“Oh, thanks!” you replied, beaming at him with the most beautiful smile he had ever seen.

His face flushed; he had never encountered a more stunning smile.

“C-can I” he stuttered again. 

“Do you want to join?!” you beamed. No, no he didn’t. But if it meant seeing you smile like that more times than once, he’d do anything. Even if it meant singing…. Christmas songs. 

He nodded his head, and you linked your arm through his. “Guys, we have another caroler!” Everyone cheered in a slurred victory, and you got everyone back on track to sing another version of "Jingle Bells."

Hyunjin whispered the lyrics over your voice, but he couldn’t take his eyes off you. Maybe Christmas isn’t so bad after all.

Han pulls you in closer beneath the soft, warm blanket, his voice laced with playful impatience. “Come ooon, I’m cooold,” he whines, his fingers roaming over your body, seeking out any warmth he can find. 

You can’t help but chuckle softly at his antics, allowing him to explore until he finally settles on a comfortable spot beneath your shirt. His warm palm rests gently on the skin of your belly, sending a shiver of warmth through you. You lean your head against his shoulder, feeling your body relax into the cozy embrace he offers. 

“So, what should we start with?” he asks, breaking the comfortable silence as you reach for the remote nestled beside you on the couch. 

You take a moment to consider, rifling through the various titles listed on Netflix while your mind drifts to fond memories. “How about…” you muse internally, your fingers scrolling through the familiar options until you spot it. “Dash & Lily,” you finally decide, remembering the small holiday tradition you and Jisung have enjoyed together over the years. 

“Sounds good with me!” Jisung chirps happily, his eyes lighting up with excitement. He cuddles up even closer, wrapping his arm around you securely as the unmistakable, cheerful ba-dum chimes through the speakers, signaling the start of the series. The sweet sound envelops you both, drawing you deeper into a world of festive mischief and charm.

“Smells good,” Felix comes up behind you as your hands knead the sugar cookie dough in the bowl. He kisses your shoulder and watches your steady hands knead the dough. 

You giggle at his delicate touch. “When are the guys coming?” you ask over your shoulder. 

“I’m not sure, but I don’t imagine them getting here until late,” he responds, tracing kisses from your shoulder up to your neck. 

You can’t help but giggle as his fingers dance over your skin, sending a flurry of tickles that make you squeal with laughter. “Hey, cut it out with the tickles!” you protest, but your voice is playful, giving away just how lighthearted the moment is.

Soon the bowl of dough is forgotten when Felix drags you away from the kitchen in a flurry of tickles and kisses, guiding you to the living room full of treats, presents, the sounds of a Christmas movie playing, and the smell of cinnamon filling the air. 

“What are you doing?” you say through a fit of laughter. 

“I want to give you a present a little early…while the house is empty,” he says. 

“Okay?”

“Wait here.” He dashes away and you spin to look at the film that’s playing. A moment later you hear footsteps approach, but you don’t turn around. Suddenly you feel Felix’s presence behind you and something shiny above your head. Felix lowers a necklace in front of you and clasps it around your neck. 

You lift the little pendant into your hands, admiring the heart-shaped locket he placed. “Felix,” you say in awe, the gold necklace shining brightly in the light. 

“Open it,” he urges softly. 

You carefully open the locket, feeling the cool metal against your fingertips, and your heart swells as you catch a glimpse of your favorite photo nestled inside. It captures a moment frozen in time—a group huddle with Felix and the rest of the guys surrounding you. In the center of the frame, you’re encircled by their warmth, their arms draped around you in a tight embrace. Each face beams with joy, laughter sparkling in their eyes as they share this unforgettable moment. The image radiates happiness, and as you gaze at it, a smile spreads across your face. “It’s perfect,”.

“I don’t need anything,” he pouts linking his arms around your waist. 

“It's not about needing anything,” you emphasize the word need as you nuzzle into the crook of his neck, “its about letting the people you love to spoil you with the things you want,” you explain, smiling awkwardly at him and pleading with your eyes. 

“The only thing I could ever want is many more Christmas’s with you” he kisses the top of your head, making your heart burst. “Your my present every year” he smiles. 

Which linked the idea of your current plan…and your current state. It was simple, but it was perfect. “Okay you can come in!” you call out. 

Seungmin walks in from the bathroom with his hands covering his eyes, “walking in” he voices, his hands still covering his eyes, “not looking,” he teases. 

You grumble at his playfulness, “Minnie, you can open your eyes.” 

Slowly, he lets his hands fall with a smile wide on his face, but that smile soon fades away as he looks at you… nothing but a bright red pin skirt covers your lower half and a bright red ribbon is tied around your breasts, barely covering your nipples. You stand there, your body buzzing in anticipation as you see Seungmin’s palms begin to sweat. 

“Fuck” he whispers. 

“Merry Christmas,” you smile….and his eyes grow dark. 

“Absolutely stunning,” he murmurs in a sultry voice, his eyes dark with desire.

You’re leaning over your dresser, adjusting your earrings for a holiday dinner with Jeongin and his family. He had picked out a form-fitting black dress that hugged your curves perfectly, paired with sleek black heels and a glimmering gold necklace that accentuates your neckline. 

“You’re just saying that to stall the inevitable,” you tease, glancing back at him, a playful smirk on your lips as you run your fingers over the fabric of your dress.

He rises from the couch, his tailored black suit clinging to his body in all the right places. “Actually, no,” he pauses, his gaze locking onto yours. “Well, yes, but that doesn’t make it any less true.” He approaches, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you against him with a fierce intimacy.

“My my, is it a Christmas miracle? The infamous Yang Jeong-in is feeling affectionate?” you quip, turning to face him, your teasing tone laced with flirtation.

His breath hitches as he leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss meant to be soft and tender, but it quickly deepens into something heated and urgent. What started as a fleeting brush of lips ignites into a passionate exploration, his mouth moving against yours with a hunger that sends shivers down your spine. Feeling the intensity of his desire, you find yourself responding, lost in the electric connection between you, the world outside fading away into oblivion.

You grabbed at his body desperately pulling him closer to you. But you knew it was time to go, so you pulled away “Jeongin, we are going to be late” you whisper against his lips. 

Him being the greedy little menace he is, steals another kiss before saying “they can wait a few more minuets” another stolen kiss “you know what I want for Christmas” his kisses move to the corner of your lips and down the line of your jaw. 

“What” you moan. 

“You, riding my cock and screaming my name so loud the neighbors know who you belong to.” his teeth graze your skin leaving goosebumps in their wake.  

“Innie” you moan out having no restraint in your voice, urging him further. 

He pulls back to look at you, “aw look at you; redder than Santa’s suit, hm” 

[fizzyginfizz]

Star

For @hinnymicrofic - Prompt 28 - Star - Post-DH

“Muggles have a saying: when you wish upon a star, your dreams come true.”

Harry’s hushed words hung in the sticky twilight of summer. Unseen crickets began their nightly tune-up, rubbing their wings first with tentative chirps, crescendoing as their mates joined the evening concert.

“Their dreams come true?” Ginny tossed Harry an over-the-shoulder smirk as they lay on their backs, staring up at the indigo sky. “That’s all it takes? See a star, make a wish, your dream comes true?”

“That’s what they say.”

Bruises long faded; wounds slow to heal. Humor was their balm, their bandage, their potion. Ginny’s role was to dose it out in manageable portions, a shot of cherry-flavored fizz to chase away bitter memories.

“You were in my last dream,” Ginny teased, nudging Harry with her shoulder.

“Oh?” Eyebrows lifting, Harry rolled on his side to face her, propping himself up on one elbow. “Good dream?”

Gotcha.

“Don’t look so excited,” Ginny tsked. “You were sitting at the good common room table- “

“The small one by the fireplace?”

“No, the big one by the window. You needed the big one, because you were teaching your Patronus to play Exploding Snap. That stag was uninterested. He was tossing popcorn strings on his antlers.”

“Like a Christmas tree?” Harry grinned.

“Yes, except it wasn’t Christmas because Ron was there wearing his awful Cannons swim trunks. He was going through a barrel of pygmy puffs, fishing out all the blue ones to toss over his shoulder to Hermione, who was juggling them five at a time."

“Fascinating. Lots to unpack here. Should have paid more attention in Divination.”

“She said juggling Pygmy Puffs was effective preparation for her Gobstones OWL. There was also a flamingo playing the accordion.”

Harry chuckled. “And where were you in this dream?”

A quick quip formed on her tongue, poised to accompany a wink and a smirk, dressing lies to masquerade as wit. Crafting a joke to keep them washed in sunshine silliness, proving they were alive, whole, resilient, undefeated.

“I was- “

The quip turned sour. Cherry-flavored fizz gone flat.

She tried to make truth as bubbly, but the truth was still.

“I was searching for something.”

Her words, whisper soft, settled between them. Ginny wished she could snatch them back, those words of twilight. Half afraid he would ask for more, half afraid he wouldn’t.

He had never asked for her truths. Truth was uncomfortable, it didn’t sparkle or tickle one’s nose. What was she to him, if not his greatest comfort? His light, his distraction, his, his, his… his since she was ten years old, orbiting him like a planet around a star.

But his voice was also whisper still, next to inaudible beneath the symphony of crickets. “What were you searching for?”

“That’s the thing,” Ginny said, her brows drawing together, as she kept her gaze up at the darkening sky. “I don’t always know. But I know it’s vital, something I need to find before I can move on. And it’s like it’s something I should already have in my hand, like my wand, or something stupid like my left sock. The more I search, the more it feels as if I’m in slow motion. Then when I wake up, not only didn’t I find it, I have no idea what was missing in the first place.”

Tiny pinpoints of light emerged one-by-one as the indigo sky deepened to navy.

Ginny risked a glance. “Do you ever have dreams like that?”

Beneath a sky of winking stars, the corner of his mouth curled into the gentlest, most patient smile she had ever seen. “Not anymore.”

His hand brushed her hair away from her cheek, lingering.

Then he pointed up, at the brightest star. “That one looks promising. You should wish on that one. Find what you’re looking for.”

Then, something in Harry’s eyes twinkled, like the stars above them.

Heavens shifted; orbits realigned.

“Also, a flamingo playing the accordion?” he quipped. “The world needs your dreams to come true.”

With one dose of cherry-flavored fizz, Harry became her sunshine. Or maybe her starlight. Glimmering in the inky darkness, steady, fixed in the night sky.

She laughed, full-throated, glorious. “I haven’t even told you about Flitwick and Hagrid’s tango.”

He reached over, pulled her onto his chest. She closed her eyes, the sure, steady thump of his heartbeat beneath her ear. “How did they manage that?”

Ginny opened one eye, “Stilts.”

“Did Hagrid have a rose in his teeth? Please tell me he had a rose in his teeth.”

Ginny peeked up at the brightest star above and made her wish.

[danpuff-ao3]

My beloved Nina, also known as the very gifted PinaNaponi, and here as @vulnerasanenturmyprince. I cannot tell you how much this lady means to me. She's on a hiatus from fandom right now, but I couldn't not dedicate some love to my sweet friend.

Nina and I met during one of the worst periods of my life. And she had no idea just how much joy she brought into my life then, because I kept so much of what I was dealing with hush hush. Our first time interacting was a literal cry for help on my end where Nina told me "if you're okay talking to a literal stranger, my DMs are open." Which just goes to show how openhearted and generous she is. She gave me so much support that day.

When I was struggling, and feeling alone, and afraid, Nina reminded me that decent people exist. She's walked through rough situations with such grace and class. All before we were properly friends. And she is, somehow, all the more wonderful when she's in your corner.

This lady is intelligent, skilled, creative, and passionate, and kind. I adore her to bits. And even when she slipped out of fandom, we've kept in touch. And I know without a doubt that whatever our distance on this earth, and in fandom, whatever life throws in our way, I've got this lady for good. And she simply must be celebrated! She writes, narrates, draws, and even binds books! Talk about a quadruple threat!

So here are some goodies of Nina's for you to admire. All below the cut because I got carried away with hers and it's longer than usual!

Art:

Rockstar AU Severus & Harry

Snarry Sanctuary Discord icon

Compulsory Figures fanart

Snape's nose art for Impeccable Logic and Belated Epiphanies

Severus' birthday (Snarry)

Star Trek Snarry

Dron Christmas (for me!)

Snarry Christmas

Birthday Fic-Bindings:

Danpuff short stories

Genuinely, I cried. (She also included yummy German snackies in the package, but that's besides the point.) Is there a better gift to give someone? To put your love into giving another's work physical shape? I have a physical copy of my own works because of Nina. I'm tearing up just thinking about it. Never have I been given such a thoughtful gift. And it's yellow, too!! (I love yellow.) (Also I'm a Hufflepuff, if the "puff" in "danpuff" didn't give it away.)

Certain Dark Things

LilaDiurne's Certain Dark Things is an incredible story and the book Nina created for it is so gorgeous! Geez Louise, what a rockstar!

Drabbles:

Hunger

Harry/Severus. Rated: E. Words: 196.

Severus is a gourmet.

No pretty Girl

Harry/Severus. Rated: E. Words: 297. Hate sex.

Snape is a terrible liar.

Fics:

Feline Felicis

Harry/Severus. Rated: M. Words: 10,708. Cat!Harry. Fluff.

Potter, in a fit of being his usual hazardous self, goes about things in all the wrong ways. Of course it falls to Severus to fix the mess. It goes not at all as expected.

The Ferryman

Harry/Severus. Rated: E. Words: 7,021. Mental health issues.

A story about ghosts and Psychopomps, and two men who might be better off together.

Set Phasers to Stun

Harry/Severus. Rated: E. Words: 18,580. Fluff & smut. Humor. Headmaster Snape & Professor Potter. Snarry Swap 2021.

Harry returns to Hogwarts to apprentice under none other than Severus Snape as a Star Trek: Voyager craze hits the school. Harry is soon to find out that he, in fact, does like sci-fi ― and Vulcans.

Podfic:

Boxes & Baubles

written by me! Narrated by Nina. Severus-centric. Lily & Severus friendship. Minor Regulus/Severus. Endgame Harry/Severus. Rated: T. Length: 21 minutes.

Christmas trees over the first four (and a half) decades of Severus’ life.

Poem:

Lovers' Flight

Harry/Severus. Rated: T. Words: 221. MCD. Wartime. Poem. Kill Your Darlings Fest 2022. Inspired by "Elf King" by Goethe.

When Goethe meets Snarry

Webcomic

Quarantine Days

Harry/Severus. Rated: M. Muggle Au. Domestic fluff. Fluff & smut. Snarry AUctober Fest 2021.

A collection of three-panel comics about Harry and Severus stuck at home during quarantine.

for an explanation about Mutuals March, or to figure out why i wrote you a thing, please check out this post.

[ask-the-friendly-ink-demon]

[Title: Getting Ready For Christmas] so i was bored one day or a week ago, this took a long while to finish cause i didint know who i wanted to put in here, but i think it’s safe to say im proud of how this one turned out, happy early christmas to you all characters from left to right -susan -Pred [ @ask-the-demon-of-joey-studios‘s bendy ] -xier [ @sammys-sanctuary‘s new bby boi ] -benson [ @ladyfluffbutt aka @mybfsademon‘s winged twat] -Prowler  [my precious goopy armored boi] -lil bendy [ @kkw424 aka @little-bendy‘s bendy ] -Alice [ @licoriceblackaliceangel aka @candyredterezii‘s alice (i tried thinking of what your alice would of wear if she attended a christmas party- oof)] -Ritual!bendy [ @derpy-doodlees aka @ask-ritual-batirm-crew‘s bendy ] -My Boris -Soul/Dancer [ @ask-soul-bendy‘s bendy ] -Benny [ @the-inktype‘s bendy ] -Henry Jefferson Jarvis -Alpha hope you all like this!

[f1nalboys]

New Traditions

just needed some soft poly!ghostface stuff because i love them hehehe

Poly!Ghostface x GN!Reader

WORD COUNT: 880

WARNINGS: a little angst, mention of billy’s mother leaving and his childhood (fuck billys dad fr), fluff, not proofread

Christmas was Billy’s favorite holiday at one point in time, if you can believe it. Back before his mom left, he would wake up, run into the living room and be met by a beautifully decorated tree and a pile of presents underneath. He’d enter his parents bedroom and jump on the bed, yelling about Santa Claus, and they’d wake up with laughter before following him out.

But that was a long time ago. Once Billy’s mom left, his dad seemed to give up on their old traditions. Billy wasn’t sure why it hurt so much to wake up on Christmas day to no lights, decorations, tree, or presents, but it did. Billy came to resent any holiday other than Halloween, and even that was hard not to think about the times his parents would take him around the neighborhood in matching outfits.

Stu helped make those other holidays bearable, but he never could get Billy to enjoy Christmas. Even when he invited him to his parents house where they had just as many gifts for Billy as they did for Stu and his sister, even when Stu would decorate their apartment in things he knew Billy would love. It all reminded him of his mom. 

This is your first Christmas with the two men as a couple and Stu took you aside to let you know how Billy felt. “He has bad memories attached to this time of year, Y/N,” Stu told you with a sad smile. “We’ll try and distract him but don't’t be upset if he’s still a little sad. All we can do is be there for him.”

And that’s exactly what you were planning on doing. The thought of Billy alone in his house while his dad was God knows where on Christmas Eve, it was enough to break your fucking heart. You aren’t sure when the idea came to you but you coundlt deny the fact that it was a really fucking good one.

Billy could tell you and Stu were plotting something from the hushed whispers and darting glances, but he was too out of it to care. He’d be lying if he said it didn’t give him a little bit of anxiety, though; what kind of shit were you going to pull and how much was it going to remind him of his mother?

“Merry Christmas, Billy.” He woke up on Christmas morning to your voice and it made him smile. When he opened his eyes, however, he let out an extremely loud laugh. You and Stu were sitting on the bed, decked out in elf outfits, including pointy ears you bought off of the internet. “Come to the workshop!” 

“When the hell did you guys get dressed up like this?” He asks, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. It was late in the morning, the two of you letting him sleep in since he got drunk the night before. “Workshop? What are you two even talking about? I feel like I’m hallucinating.”

Despite everything telling him to lay back down and to wallow in self pity, he decided to humor you. This was your first Christmas with them, after all, and he didn’t want it to be too terrible. Stumbling out of bed after you both, his mouth drops open when you usher him through the door of the bedroom into the hallway. Paper snowflakes littered the ceiling along with crudely drawn Santa’s and reindeer. “Those are from my sister’s kids, you remember them?” Stu says with a large grin, throwing an arm around Billy’s shoulder. You were on the other side of him, holding onto his hand. “They even made you some cards! C’mere,”

Billy allows you and Stu to pull him around the house, showing him the decorations you both had made as well as the cards and drawings done by your younger family members. On the coffee table were almost a dozen construction paper cards, all for Billy. 

“I know Christmas is rough for you and, I don’t know, I wanted to try and make some new traditions for us. We love you Billy, so much. So? What do you think?” You were rocking abc and forth on the ball of your feet, nervous, waiting for Billy to say something. He was looking around the decorated apartment with a shine in his eyes you haven’t seen during a holiday since you’ve known him.

Without saying anything, Billy walks over to both you and Stu and hugs you both, pulling you in close to him. His body is shaking and you can feel your shirt grow wet from where he had placed his face; he was crying. For a second, you worry that he’s crying because you made him sad, but then he’s choking out words that are too muffled for you to hear.

“Thank you. So much. I… don’t know what to say,” He says, voice cracking, as he pulls away from you both. His face is splotchy and his eyes are still filled with tears but he’s smiling. “I don’t deserve this.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Billy,” You say, grabbing ahold of his hand and kissing it while Stu moves behind Billy and wraps him into a tight hug.. “You deserve so much more. Merry Christmas.”

[faerie-goth]

WTF, Fenn?!?

The story behind this - so this came from a discussion that started on Discord about the guys in fishnets, which led to me drawing Fenn in a fishnet top (with piercings in a certain place because punk Fenn absolutely would lol) which has led to...this fic bit.  If I do anything more NSFW it’s going on AO3 and not here, but I’m not sure how NSFW my aro/ace ass is capable of writing.  Just have this for now.

“Treasure!  There you are!”

I turn to see Fenn, my paramour, coming towards me with his usual swagger, a bright, beaming smile on his face.  His cheerfulness at this hour is a bit concerning - either he’s been plotting some prank, or his mind has been absolutely in the gutter.

“What did you do this time, Fenn?” I ask, stopping him dead in his tracks.

“Uwah?  Why do you automatically assume that I’m guilty of something?”  Fenn pouts adorably, casually flipping his purple-white hair out of his face and over his shoulder.  God, this man was so beautiful it hurts.

He taps just below his lower lip, indicating that he’s still waiting for his good morning kiss, a ritual he’s insisted on lately.  I acquiesce, giving him a short peck as to not light him up like a Christmas tree with my power.  Fenn sulks just a bit, but is understanding as to why we cannot afford to linger, especially since we’re currently standing right outside the classrooms.

“And a good morning to you, too!” he grins, hands drifting further into my personal space.  

“Aren’t we supposed to be getting to class, Fenn?  A class that you’re supposed to be teaching?”  I attempt to steer him in the right direction, not wanting to catch an earful from Toa again.

“Well, yes, but I had a surprise for you first.”  

Apparently this was the sort of surprise that had him blushing and speaking in a hushed voice.  This could either be something very sweet and personal, or very…kinky.  Neither of which are liable to be appropriate for our current location.

“What kind of surprise, Fenn?”  I ask with a raised eyebrow, noting that he didn’t appear to have anything unusual on his person.

“Well…” he started, taking my hand and placing it on his chest.

“Uh…you want me to feel your heartbeat?”  I had to admit, it was absolutely racing.

What are you doing, Fenn?

“Oh, it’s a little more in this direction,” he says as he repositions my hand.  

“Ah…still a bit tender there.”  Fenn gasps as my palm catches on something small and metal beneath his shirt, that is definitely not where a necklace would be.”

“Fenn, what did you do?  Did you…” I lean in closer to whisper-yell in his ear.  “Fenn, did you get your fucking nipples pierced?!?”

Oh, this would be fun.

[dangerous-mess]

Holiday Troubles

Characters: Aizawa, trans male reader

Contains: Unsupportive family, transphobia, homophobia, misgendering, mentions of a deadname (D/N), mentions of religion and praying, mentions of dysphoria, angst, hurt/comfort, angst with fluff ending. This was written mainly as a comfort fic during the winter holidays but wanted to post this here (originally posted on AO3). Please read with caution as this content may be triggering for some

Word Count: 2K+ 

The holidays were always rough for you, being not only gay but transgender as well. There were the off-putting tension and feelings every time you walked in the room, and the side glances and judgemental glares that were shot your way if you were even caught wearing something feminine and not masculine. Mostly from your parents and family, feeling the obligation that you had to follow gender norms in the hope to not only pass but to be taken seriously in your own identity.

The holidays got a little easier once you married your now husband. He made visiting your family a bit easier and made the holidays in general, more enjoyable for you. This year, unfortunately, he had meetings and a nightly patrol that he couldn’t get out of, so you were left to go to the Christmas family gathering by yourself.

The day came, and needless to say, you were a nervous mess. You dressed up in a suit, something masculine of course to appease your family and keep those comments at bay. Though, you knew you weren’t in the clear as there was still a high chance of being deadnamed and misgendered by family who were unsupportive or others who just didn’t try. Your husband, Shouta, let you know before he left early that morning that if you needed anything at all to give him or Hizashi a call and they would come and get you in a heartbeat. He said Hizashi, just in case he couldn’t be reached, which was fine with you, Hizashi had become a close friend to you.

You arrived at your parent's house a little later than they asked, just cause you were nervous and needed more time to prepare for this evening. You knocked on the front door, adjusting your suit as you waited for someone to open the door, only to be greeted by one of your younger siblings. They gave you a big hug, before dragging you inside where you were greeted by family. Your grandmother was the first to deadname you. She called out as you talked to your uncle, a devious smile on her face as the name rolled off her tongue. You cringed hearing it and so badly wanted to correct her, but if your mother caught wind that you did, who knows what drama may pursue. You endured the conversation with her, as she made sure to drop in your deadname every chance she could get.

“Honestly D/N, you really should stop playing dress up and realize that you are a girl. Your husband would be so much happier to have a wife who knows her place and not some confused girl.”

You took a deep breath and bid your goodbyes to your grandmother as you went to find someone else to talk to. Eventually, dinner was called, and you all gathered around and your grandfather said a prayer. You looked down at your feet the entire time, not really wanting to participate in the prayer. Soon it wrapped up and a line formed into the kitchen to get food. After everyone got food, everyone gathered around and talked, telling stories of things that happened within the past year in their lives, as well as asking questions to others to get the latest scoop. You just decided to eat silently, trying to not participate in the gossip fest happening before you.

“So Y/N, how are you and your husband doing?” Your dad asked before he took a sip of a beer. You held up your pointer finger, signaling that you needed a moment as your finished chewing food before you smiled and spoke.

“Oh, we are doing well! He sends his deepest apologies that he couldn’t make it, hero duties called.” You smiled, taking a quick glance around the room. Some whispers were exchanged, knowing it was about you and Shouta. It was clear that besides your family not supporting your identity, they also did not support your marriage to a hero. Especially a hero who was supportive of you and your identity.

“Honestly, how she manages to keep such a hero man, is insane. Like who would wanna marry some confused lesbian?” One of your aunts spoke out. You gripped your glass tightly, biting your tongue, not wanting to start any issues.

Other family members chimed in to add on to your aunt's comment and soon it became too much. You quickly excused yourself and went to the bathroom farthest away from your family. You pulled out your phone and texted your husband. You told him that you needed him or Hizashi or someone to come to pick you up, as you originally walked, as it was nice earlier prior to the sun setting. You quickly got a reply, saying your husband was on his way, and that he was getting someone to cover the rest of his patrol. You felt a bit bad to interrupt and have him leave his patrol, but god you just needed him right now more than anything.

You hid amongst the rooms as you waited for Shouta to send you a message or signal that he was here. Your mom called out your name, walking down the hall looking for you. The smile on her face dropped as she saw you and grabbed your arm.

“Come on Y/N, we are about to exchange gifts. Stop trying to hide and be nice and spend time with your family. It took a lot of work and effort to get everyone here, like your grandparents who haven’t seen you in ages.” Your mom aggressively whispered at you, as she pulled you towards the living room. You stayed silently, hoping that your husband would be here soon.

Your mom let you go and pointed to a chair near the tree. You sat down and were handed some gifts. You slowly opened them, trying not to draw attention to yourself. The first gift was in a gift bag, and opening it exposed a colorful piece of clothing. You pulled it out and it was a sundress. Although you didn’t mind breaking gender norms, dresses were never your thing, they held too many bad memories and made you dysphoric. You frowned, not having the energy to fake a smile. You felt your mind start to spiral before a voice pulled you out.

“Oh, D/N do you not like it. I made sure to even get the right size and everything. I thought you could put that on and surprise your husband when you go home. Imagine how he would react to see his wife, finally coming to terms with herself.” Your grandmother called out, staring at you the entire time. You went to open your mouth when another voice spoke up.

“Actually, I think my husband looks handsome and perfect just the way he is in the suit he is wearing, but thank you. Maybe we can save the dress and give it to one of my students, I know one of them would get much better use of it.” Shouta’s voice boomed out, making a hush fall across the room. You never heard the front door open, but then again Shouta was very good at staying silent. You looked at your husband, feeling all your emotions and feelings starting to rise to the surface. You caught a dirty look your mother gave you as you stood up and made your way over to Shouta.

He held out his hand as you got closer and held it tightly, quickly bidding goodbye for you both as he quickly led you outside to the car that was waiting outside and still running. “I had Hizashi drive me over, hope that’s okay.” You just nodded at him, not letting go of his hand until you got into the car. As soon as you and Shouta were in the car, Hizashi sped off.

“Heya listener, how did it go?” Hizashi asked out, peeking into the mirror looking back at you.

“I lasted longer than last year, so that’s a new record at least.” You joked, trying not to cry. At least not now, you had to make it until you were home and in bed, with your husband holding you close.

Hizashi talked most of the ride home, while Shouta kept glancing back at you. You tried to listen to what was being said, but you couldn’t focus, so you just looked out the window, slightly dozing off. You woke up to the feeling of being carried, your eyes adjusted as you saw Shouta was carrying you into the house and to the bedroom. On any other occasion, if he was carrying you like this you were bound to tease or crack a joke or something, but in this moment you just stayed in his arms, gripping onto him tightly. Once you both got to the bedroom, he helped you undress and slip on something comfy. After he finished helping you, he quickly changed and climbed into bed, pulling you close to him and holding you tightly.

For a while, you just laid there in his arms, fighting back the urge to scream and cry. Though, after he comforted you and let you know it was okay to be upset and that you could let it all out. In which you did, you sobbed in his chest for what felt like hours. You screamed and sobbed and let out all the feelings you bottled up for the few hours you were at the family gathering. Eventually, you ran out of tears to cry and were only left with your own thoughts. You were overthinking, mostly dwelling on the words your family spoke out to you this evening, and couldn’t help but question if it was true.

“Sho...I’ve got to ask you something, kind of important.” You gently pushed away and sat up in the bed, looking at him. He stared at you, and nodded, letting you know it was okay to continue on. You took a deep breath and went for it, “Am I enough for you? I brought a lot of baggage and trouble into our relationship and I know it can’t be easy for you dating me, specifically with the backlash and comments that get made by my family and others about me transitioning and just. If you were with anyone else, I feel like you won’t get all this drama and I’m sorry I’ve brought so much of it onto you Shouta.”

You watched as his facial expression changed and you quickly looked away, finding interest in anything that wasn’t his face, afraid of what his reaction not only meant but the words that were about to follow. “Y/N, please look at me.” You slowly looked up and he placed a hand on your cheek. “I love you Y/N. I love you for you, you are my husband and I won’t want anyone else besides me. You are more than enough for me. And we both have a lot of baggage but that doesn’t change my feelings for you, we can work through it all together. I meant what I said in my vows and at our wedding and I still stand by it. Forever and always.”

You fiddled with your fingers before speaking up, “I love you Shouta so much, I’m just afraid one day I won’t be enough, cause as silly as it is, I don’t feel masculine or manly enough, that you’ll find more of a ‘real’ man one day and just leave me behind.” Tears filled your eyes and you looked down, just wanting to hide under the blankets.

“Y/N Aizawa, you are absolutely masculine and manly enough. I will never find anyone else or more a man than you. You are all I want, and all I need. I love you so much, don’t ever doubt my love for you, cause it is never-ending sweetheart.” Shouta spoke out, lifting your head up and placing a small kiss on your forehead before pulling you into his arms, holding you close. You just stayed there close, as Shouta whispered sweet nothings into your ear as you drifted off to sleep.

Shouta always made the holidays more bearable, but he also made life in general easier. He made waking up a little easier and helped with your hectic thoughts to calm you down. He truly was the love of your life and the best you could ever ask for. You couldn’t have gotten any luckier to have a husband as sweet and perfect as you. He may not be the number one hero to the rest of the world, but in your eyes and his heart, he was, he was your number one hero.

[donutloverxo]

Festive movies w/ August Walker

This is my first fic for Auggie! And second submission to happy hoelidays challenge cohosted with @navybrat817 @stargazingfangirl18 . I used the prompt 'I know a wy to warm you up'.

Warnings - 18+ only please, Smut(m/f), daddy kink, slight ddlg, cockwarming, soft!August.

Word count - 1k

7 days of ficmas

“But, daddy!” you whined, clinging to his huge bicep, putting on those princess eyes that always worked on him and an exaggerated pout.

“That’s not going to work, honey,” he seethed, trying to shaking you off of him. His heart swelled when you fell against the armrest of your couch, your eyes misty as you whimpered, calling him a ‘meanie’.

“I said I’m sorry,” you sniffled, knowing exactly what you were doing to him when you caught his face softening, and although your tears were real, so heartbroken about being rejected so cruelly, you wanted to milk his guilt and make him feel bad as much as you could. “And you’re still being mean!”

“Saying sorry doesn’t make everything okay, princess,” he shook his head.

August had told you to stay home, especially when he was gone, making you quit your job at the café where he had met you. You didn’t need it anymore anyway, he was going to take good care of you now. He needed to keep you safe, he had too many enemies, who would be happy to get their hands on something so precious to him.

He explained it all to you as nicely as he could, promising you as many stuffies as you could ever wish for when he gets back from his mission, and a nice Christmas spent together. Buying you a diamond ring, planning a proposal and a speech to go along with it to officially make you his.

Although he wasn’t much for the holidays he wanted to make it special for you as it was your first Christmas together.

But you decided it would be more fun to go out to your friends Christmas party, and then get drunk on eggnog, so naively thinking that you could trick him.

“You’re such a dumb baby,” he shook his head. “Since it’s Christmas, you get to decide your punishment.”

“Um...” you tried to think, something that seems like a punishment but actually isn’t, “You could maybe fuck me stupid with your big scary cock?” you blinked, your eyes wide and innocent as if you’d ask for something as wholesome like another scope of ice cream.

“No, that’s not a punishment. You would enjoy it far too much. I got you something from tiffanys,” although he didn’ttell you what exactly he had gotten you, he pointed to the gifts under the tree, “Maybe I should take that away? Return it?”

“NO!” you screeched, your heart hammering at such an outrageous prospect, you climbed on his lap, slobbering his face with kisses, apologising over and over again to try to make him less mad. “Please! I’ve never had any real diamonds, please,” you spoke against his moustache before kissing his lips.

“Alright, alright...” his resolve crumbled as he smiled, blowing a raspberry in the crook of your neck, “Since it’s Christmas, I can let it go for now, I’ll just have to punish you next year.”

“Okie, good! Now it’s time for the grinch,” you smiled proudly at your accomplishment, at being able to have fun with your friends and get away with it too as you put on the movie. Sure daddy would ‘punish' you, but you would just have to convince him to let you off with a few spankings.

“Ugh, I’ll forget about your punishment if you don’t subject me to this,” he threw his head back and groaned.

“Daddy, you promised. Are you going to break a promise to me and go back on your word?” He had promised to do all Christmasy things with you when he had left for his mission and you fully intended on holding him to his word.

“You’re too clever for your own good,” he said, pulling you onto his lap.

You almost wanted to tell him to pick whether he thinks you’re dumb or clever instead of going back and forth on it, but then thought better of it.

Half an hour or so into the movie August was too bored, he watched your cartoons with you sometimes to indulge you, but right now he wanted something more.

“Time to take this off, Y/N,” he said, unzipping your onesie.

“But I’ll get cold...” you looked back to him over your shoulder, not quite catching onto what he wanted to do with you just yet, his perfect innocent doll.

“Don’t worry, princess, I know a good way to warm you up,” his smirk almost predatory as he rid you of your pesky clothes, leaving you in just your socks as he took his hard cock out of his pants.

Nudging your intimate lips apart, he teased you with his leaking tip, kissing your temple to sooth the whines and whimpers you gave him.

“Daddy, it hurts...” you cried as he pushed into you, your legs spread wide on sides of his thighs, his fingers digging into the meat of your hips to keep you from running away.

Since your cunt hadn’t had any type of attention for over a month, it had grown unaccustomed to his long and thick length. It was always a struggle to fit him, but even more so now since you weren’t as prepared as you usually are, where it felt as if he was splitting you apart. You weren’t allowed to touch yourself when he was gone, or ever since you were his. That was one rule you were way too scared to break.

“Shh,” he hushed you, sitting back against the cushion once he was fully impaled inside your heat, “It’ll get better in a bit. Stay still for daddy will you? Don’t you want to be good for me?”

You whimpered, tears streaming down your face as you fought to seek more friction to your aching, swollen clit and sit still. Your pussy quivering around him and then clenching around his length, which earned you a slap to your behind.

“You better behave, princess. Be quiet and sit there like a good slut if you want your diamonds.”

You wiped your tears away, determined to be good for him, not really paying attention to the movie anymore.

“I’ll suck your cock after, daddy.” You said after some time, he hummed in response, drawing random patterns on your hips, “and maybe... you can fuck my ass? As my Christmas present to you?”

Which made him perk up and sit up straight, you hissed as his tip hit your spongy spot, “Are you serious, princess?”

It was something he had always wanted. But you were too scared to try, on account of just how fucking huge he was. And while you had gotten him a nice watch and cuffs, you wanted to make up for being a bad girl.

“Yes, daddy,” you murmured.

Laying your head against his shoulder and closing your eyes as you vaguely heard him say ‘Merry Christmas'.

Tags will be in the reblog! Click the link in the bio to be join the taglist or shoot me an ask/dm. Comments and reblogs are really appreciated! ❤❤

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Please note that my work is not to be reposted or published anywhere other than my Tumblr or AO3 account without my permission. Reblogs are most welcome though!

[alidravana]

Title: A Little Christmas for Two

Fandom/Pairing: Roswell New Mexico, Michael/Alex

Rating: T

Chapters: 3/3 (Complete)

Summary: Will a series of misunderstandings ruin Michael and Alex's first festive season as a couple? Or will the two of them finally confide in each other in time to save Christmas?

Can also be read on A03.  For @alilypea!

*****

As Alex walked into the cabin, he immediately felt on edge.  The cabin was silent.  Alex could still hear the wind howling outside, but that was muted, the well-built cabin walls hushing the roar.  There were no other noises, nothing signaling the presence of another occupant, even though Michael’s truck was out front, his boots by the door, and his hat hung up on the hook.  

Alex’s hand glanced down by his side, the automatic draw to look for his service weapon, which he rarely carried these days.  Surely there was no need to panic, nothing looked in disarray, the door hadn’t been forced open, nothing to indicate that Michael was in any danger.

Forcing his body to untense, Alex turned and hung up his jacket next to his boyfriend’s, letting out a small smile at the thought of Michael feeling comfortable enough to come into the cabin while he was out.  He then sat down at the small bench to pull his shoes off, sliding on his slippers that he wore inside the house.  

Michael must have gone down early, Alex surmised, heading towards their bedroom.  Alex winced at the slight creak the door made as he opened it a crack, but frowned when he didn’t see Michael’s familiar body under the covers.  Michael loved the heavy duvet they had over the bed, but it was still laying there, untouched.  The bed completely made the way that Alex had left it that morning.  

Shaking his head in confusion, Alex took a few more steps towards the living room.  Then he heard it.  

The worst sound ever.

No longer trying to be quiet, Alex picked up his pace, bursting into the living room and looking frantically for Michael.  He was crying softly on the floor, sitting in front of a Christmas tree that Alex knew for certain wasn’t there when he had left in the morning.

Taking in the discarded cardboard boxes strewn across the room, Alex quickly came to the conclusion that Michael, or someone, had purchased the tree and it’s decorations.  Is that why Michael was crying?  Was he upset about the presence of the tree?

Alex wasn’t sure what hurt more, his head or his heart.  But he knew he had to do something, and soon.

Alex carefully sat down on the floor, wincing slightly as his prosthetic pinched his skin.  Instead, he straightened his right leg while bending his left underneath him.  Ignoring the uncomfortableness of his seating position, Alex reached towards Michael, the latter collapsing into his arms.  He felt a brief moment of relief, glad that whatever had happened, that Michael still sought comfort from him, with whatever was going on.  

Rubbing Michael’s back in small circles, Alex tightened his arms around Michael, whispering quiet platitudes in his ear.  It might have only been a few minutes when Michael started to calm down, but it felt like forever to Alex.  But Michael still wasn’t saying anything, and Alex knew he’d have to make the first move.  

“What happened?” Alex asked, figuring it was the easiest question to start with.  “Is it the Christmas tree, Michael?  You know, we don’t really need one if you don’t want one,” he added, taking a look at the tree in suspicion.  If it was the tree that caused Michael to be upset, he had no qualms about burning down the thing himself.

Assuming that he had guessed correctly, he continued on.  “You know, we don’t even have to celebrate Christmas, if you don’t want to?  You don’t have to put up with it just so I’m happy.”  Alex shut up quickly, not meaning to say that last little bit.  He didn’t want to pressure Michael into doing something he wanted to.

He could feel Michael tremble under his arms and he panicked, but then peered closely at Michael.  He wasn’t crying anymore…he was laughing?  What the hell?  His eyes scanned the living room looking for a bottle of whisky, of scotch…something to explain this weird scenario.  But nothing, nothing obvious.

Michael pulled back, chuckling out loud.  “We are a couple of idiots,” he managed to choke out, his giggles turning into a full belly laugh.  “Idiots!” he wheezed, holding his sides.  

“Well, I’m glad you figured it out, because I’m confused as hell,” Alex confessed, still looking at Michael like he was a mad man.  Well, mad alien, Alex corrected in his head.

“You thought I didn’t want to have Christmas -” Michael said, unable to speak further due to his laughter.

“Well you told Isobel that it was stressing you out!” Alex said loudly, recalling Michael’s words clearly in his head.  But Michael was shaking his head back and forth.

“Alex, my love,” Michael said, shuffling over to cup his hands around Alex’s cheeks.  

Alex blushed as his whole body reacted involuntarily to Michael’s movement, having to stop himself from letting out a quiet moan.  

“Christmas only stresses me out because I don’t know how to celebrate it -” Michael took a deep breath and then continued to say “-and I didn’t know how to ask you.  I’m sorry.” He apologized, leaning his forehead against Alex’s.

“-And so you asked Isobel…”

“-And so I asked Isobel...”  

The two of them said at the same time, smiles appearing on both men’s faces.  

“I’m sorry too, Michael.  I should have just -”

‘-talked to you, I know, me too.”

Alex smiled at Michael, leaning in to place a gentle kiss on his lips.  “Can you tell me why you were upset?” He asked, figuring that someone needed to start the conversation.  

Michael nodded, but stood up, reaching a hand out to help Alex off the floor.  “Let’s get a drink though,” Michael added, interlacing his fingers with Alex’s and leading him towards the kitchen.  

Yeah, a drink sounds perfect to him too, Alex thought as he trailed after Michael, a chuckle escaping.  They really were a pair of idiots.

—

Alex sighed as he took in Michael’s sleeping form, his head propped up on his elbow.  Michael had seemed embarrassed last night when he explained that he was crying because he felt alone, but his embarrassment paled in comparison to Alex’s.  The two of them had agreed to communicate more, knowing that they needed to to make their relationship work, and what did Alex do - overhear a conversation and jump to conclusions.  The wrong conclusions that ended up only hurting Michael. 

It was difficult, but Alex got over his own nervousness and told Michael how his family celebrated the holidays.  He told Michael how Christmas Eve was the best night, because his dad often worked late, meaning that he and his brothers could order pizza and stay up late, watching Home Alone and eventually all its sequels.  Christmas itself was a series of rituals, up at the crack of dawn for gifts, to Church for service, and back, only to have a turkey dinner that his father ordered from a restaurant in town.  While Alex wouldn’t exactly say his dad was relaxed on Christmas, he generally was easier to get along with and Alex could honestly say that he enjoyed spending that time with his family.  

Alex knew he had a lot to make up for and only a little bit of time left.  But it was time to start now.  Because a little Christmas was better than no Christmas after all.  

Letting his hand trail along the side of Michael’s hip, he smiled as Michael’s eyes started to crack open.  “Ready to decorate?”  Alex asked, hoping that he wasn’t jumping the gun too quickly, but the smile on Michael’s face made any lingering concerns disappear.  

Hopping out of bed, and into a quick…well not so quick shower for two, Alex pulled Michael back into the living room, intent on starting the day by finishing decorating the tree.  Michael seemed a bit hesitant at the first sight of the Christmas tree, but then got more and more excited as he explained his ornament purchases, Alex commenting how much the guitar ones looked like the guitar that he owned back in high school.  

Which also reminded Alex that he might have a few ornaments in the basement, and was relieved when he found the small box quickly.  Michael oohed and ahhed over the one ornament that contained a baby picture of him, and then they both had a chuckle over the one that Liz had gotten him of a Goth Santa.  Michael reached out, wrapping his arms around Alex as he used his powers to place the star on the top of the tree.  

Next on Alex’s list was watching a Christmas movie.  When Michael had explained that Isobel introduced him to made for TV festive rom-coms, Alex could see a familiar spark in his eyes.  So Alex cued up one of his favourites, a fake dating to true love reveal and pulled Michael in-between his legs on the couch, a warm, heavy blanket pulled over their legs.  But they were only half way through the movie when Michael shifted in his arms and disappeared under the blanket with a mischievous look on his face.  And oh…oh…that was a definite improvement to watching these movies with Michael rather than with the girls.  

Honestly, after the end of Michael’s intermission, Alex was tempted to just pull him back into bed for the rest of the day.  But then Michael tentatively suggested that they go for a stroll through the light display while they looked for something to wear that night to Isobel’s party, and Alex agreed enthusiastically, trying to brush off that twinge of guilt he felt at the hesitation that was still evident in Michael’s tone.  He was also concerned that they might be too late to find something for the party, but then they stumbled on the best ugly Christmas sweaters ever.  

So that night, the two of them showed up to Isobel’s, in the best matching ugly Christmas sweaters.  Alex’s was a bright green, a reindeer’s face was front and centre, with actual lights blinking on the antlers and it read ‘Save a Reindeer, Ride a Cowboy’.  Meanwhile, Michael’s was a complementing bright red, and had an image of a cowboy on it…leaving nothing to the imagination.  Alex had blushed something fierce when he first put it on, but at the same time, he also loved the declaration it was making.  

And so did everyone else at the party, as lots of big grins and hugs greeted the two of them.  Alex wasn’t surprised to see Kyle and Isobel joined at the hip, but it was still odd as well.  Taking a sip out of his spiked hot chocolate and laughing at a story that Maria was sharing, Alex was surprised when Michael came up behind him, his arms wrapping around Alex’s waist.  

“I have a surprise for you,” he whispered into Alex’s ear, and Alex followed wordlessly, nodding at Maria as they headed out back.  Isobel had set up a small bonfire, but no one else was outside, everyone opting to stay indoors where it was warmer.  

“So what’s the surprise?” Alex asked, looking around in curiosity.  He really hoped that Michael wasn’t wanting to re-enact their sweaters, at least not until they got home, because he definitely wanted to stay in Isobel’s good graces.  

“Close your eyes!” Michael shouted, and then disappeared into the shed, Alex reluctantly covering his eyes with his hands.  Alex waited for a few minutes, but then could hear Michael step closer towards him.  

“Okay, now open them!” Michael said softly, standing right next to Alex.

Alex had no words. There was snow, falling down in the tiniest snowflakes, leaving wet little dots along his face.  Blinking, Alex watched carefully, realizing that it was only snowing where they were standing.  

“Liz helped me make it,” Michael said with a soft grin, almost as if he knew the question that was about to be asked.  Cupping Alex’s face, Michael leaned in for a kiss.  Alex’s eyes closed as Michael’s warm lips touched his, Michael’s tongue sweeping in only for a brief taste before pulling back out.  It was a rather chaste kiss overall, but it was full of love and care.  It was the perfect Christmas kiss.

“Merry Christmas, Alex,” Michael said and this time it was Alex pulling him in for a kiss, that was anything but chaste, his hands going up to tug slightly on Michael’s curls.

“Let’s go home,” Alex said, and Michael nodded, the two going back inside to say their quick goodbyes.  As the two of them drove back to the cabin, Alex reached over, interlacing his fingers with Michael’s.  

Who knew that what started off as an awkward Christmas ended up being a perfect little Christmas for two?

[hb-writes]

For Old and Young Alike - Pt. 2

{Part 1}

Summary: 1913 in the Little Lady Blinder universe. Clara has saved up for the perfect Christmas gift for her family and it’s almost time to show it to them. She’s just got to fetch the gift and wake everyone for the Shelby family Christmas breakfast first. 

Inspired by this anon request: What about a little blurb set around Christmas time when Clara is younger maybe just before the boys go off to war, she has been saving her pocket money for ages to buy all her siblings and polly a little gift and she’s so excited to give them to her family x

Featuring: Tommy Shelby, Ada Shelby, Finn Shelby, Polly Gray, John Shelby, Martha Shelby, Arthur Shelby, Charlie Strong, Clara Shelby

-----

When Clara rose from the bed she shared with Finn, it was still much too early, the sun not yet up and the house very much silent. She checked on her siblings and aunt, listening outside of Ada's and Tommy's and Polly's rooms for telltale signs of their slumber, deep even breaths heard through each of the closed doors.

She couldn't stop herself from admiring the tree as she came down the steps, the few gifts there under the lowest branches visible even in the rather dim light meaning Father Christmas had already been to number six. Clara didn't linger there on the steps long, far more focused on the gift she'd purchased for the others than any of the boxes sitting beneath the tree.

The gift had been wrapped and labeled and hidden with Freddie's help, stowed high and away from prying curious eyes. It hadn't crossed Clara or Freddie's minds that she'd need someone similarly tall in order to get the package down when the time came.

Clara was smart enough to know she'd not be able to get it on her own, not with the help of a stool and not by standing on the tips of her toes. She'd need the tallest person available and that person, her older brother Thomas, was peacefully asleep in his bed.

Tommy usually woke early on Christmas mornings. At one time it was him and Arthur doing the early rousing, then John and Ada when he'd become too old to show excitement over such things, and for the last few years, it had been the twins waking him, the babies synchronizing their pounces to cause the most surprise, taking precious care to knock the most wind out from their unsuspecting older siblings' chests.

He wasn't used to hushed whispers stirring him, warm breath surrounding his ear as a light pressure weighed on his right shoulder, and it confused him in his half-asleep state. Tommy snaked his arm around his sister, recognizing the presence of Clara even if he hadn't heard her little voice coaxing him along. Tommy shifted closer to the wall, pulling her under the covers, eyes still closed.

"It's alright, my girl," he said, vaguely stroking his hand through her hair. "Just a dream. Go back to sleep."

Clara didn't correct him settling under the warmth of the blanket for a cuddle even though she had her own agenda, waiting there long enough for Tommy's breath to even out, his chest heaving in a steady rhythm beneath her.

"Tommy?" she whispered once he'd begun to snore a bit.

Met with silence, Clara pushed his eyelid up with a single finger, the gesture gentle but intrusive all the same. "Wake up, Tommy."

"Clara," Tommy groaned, swatting her finger away and using the arm wrapped around her to hold Clara and her wandering arms against him. "It's not time," he mumbled. "Father Christmas hasn't—"

"But he already came, Tommy," Clara said, struggling against him. "And I—"

Tommy inhaled deeply, trying his best to hold his sister's belligerent little body still. Tommy knew Father Christmas had already come to the Shelby home. He'd come no more than a few hours earlier, just at the moment when Tommy had gotten home from the Christmas Eve dinner at Greta's, dropping the gifts under the tree after checking that the twins and Ada were asleep, or at least pretending to be asleep, in their beds. He was grateful that Polly had done the wrapping, stowing the handful of packages in the shop after they'd put the twins to sleep.

Really, Tommy shouldn't have been surprised his sister was awake this early being as they'd finished reading the final chapter of A Christmas Carol around seven, just before he'd been due to Greta's. He couldn't imagine Polly had let them stay up much beyond that.

"And if you don't go back to sleep, he'll come back and gather up anything he's left."

"No, he won't," Clara answered, "and he can't come back as I haven't been naughty."

"You're being naughty waking me up so early," Tommy mumbled, "and naughty little kids get coal for Christmas."

"I'm not naughty. I just need your help."

Tommy shushed her again, repositioning them both and pulling the blankets up as he held her to his chest. "Go back to sleep."

She ignored his words, pushing her arms up against his chest, trying to get out of his hold. "And not helping those in need is very naughty, Tommy, maybe even a sin."

Tommy snorted now, almost properly awake at his sister's words, a phrase he suspected to be transplanted from their aunt's mouth straight into Clara's. "I wouldn't want to be a sinner on Christmas, now would I?"

"I would expect not, Thomas. You'll get coal."

Tommy released Clara's arms, reaching for the pocket watch discarded on the nightstand. "And you need this help from me… right now?"

It was about half-past four in the morning and Tommy dropped the piece of metal to the bedside table as he wrapped his arm around her once again. If Tommy had his way, they'd both rest a bit longer and he'd help her with whatever it was she needed closer to six, or even better, at seven. He'd not sleep any later than that, even without the twins' traditional Christmas morning wake up call.

"Please, Tommy?"

Tommy shushed her again, wrapping the arm around her once more. "How about we get a bit more sleep and I—"

"But, it's Christmas. Please, Taaaa…mmy?" she said, drawing out the first syllable, pouting and wide-eyed though Tommy's head still tilted back against the pillow and he saw nothing but the inside of his eyelids.

That long opening syllable, the Taaaa he'd not heard with any regularity for a few years, his name usually so rushed as it came from her lips, the pieces of it mushed together as she uttered it only as a hasty introduction or conclusion to whatever she wished to tell him, the other content more significant than whatever sound she whirled at him to gain his attention.

The reappearance, whether she'd done it purposefully or not, pulled at something in him and Tommy released his sister, opening his eyes as he looked to her.

"You're a little devil, Clara Shelby."

"I am not!"

"You are and you don't even know it, which makes it all the worse."

-----

Tommy looked up to where Clara pointed, to the brown paper package on the very top of the cabinet, hidden just behind the decorative edge. It'd been there for weeks now but he hadn't noticed it.

"You pulled me out of bed for this?" he asked as he pulled it down. "What is it?"

"A surprise," Clara answered, pulling the box from his hands as it came within her reach and holding it to her chest.

"Alright," Tommy answered, rubbing his eyes. "We'll put it under the tree then, eh? Open it in a few hours? Give us all the gift of a bit more rest?"

Clara nodded as she took a step away from him, stopping suddenly at a lone creak on the stairs.

"Father Christmas come yet?"

Ada yawned, wrapped up in a robe, her hand clasped around Finn's as the pair tentatively traversed the stairs.

"Finn wants to know," Ada offered to Tommy's raised eyebrow. "I'd have liked that gift of a few more hours you've just mentioned."

"I imagine you would," Tommy said. "What time did you get in last night, Ada?"

"Not very late," she answered. She'd been back before Tommy, just barely, though. He'd seen light in her bedroom window from out on the lane. "Not that it's your business what time I get in."

"And where were you 'not very late' last night?"

"Molly's," Ada answered. "Though, again, not really your business."

Tommy sighed. He'd hoped to simply get his sister back to bed for a few more hours, or at the very least, he hoped she'd allow him a bit of rest on the couch. He'd planned to ask after Ada's whereabouts later, without quite so big and impressionable of an audience. He knew she hadn't spent the whole night with Molly Evans.

"So did he come, then, Tommy?" Finn asked.

"He did," Clara said to Finn, "and he left us presents and drank all the whiskey."

"Big surprise there," Ada said.

Tommy rubbed his face once again, willing his body to accept that sleep was something long behind him, willing his body to not punish him too much for drinking Father Christmas's glass of whiskey and then some.

"We best wake John and Arthur if we're doing this now."

"And Aunt Polly?" Clara asked, already on the second step.

Tommy lifted her into his arms. "Let Finn go wake Aunt Polly. You help me with our brothers. Ada can put the kettle on," Tommy said. "I'd tell you to start with breakfast, but we don't want to burn the place down, eh?"

Ada scoffed. "It was one bloody time, Tommy. It was just a bit of smoke."

He raised an eyebrow as he glanced at the twins, both of them starting to giggle.

"Well, go on, then. I don't need an audience to make tea, especially not if it's the three of you."

"Why's she so cross on Christmas morning?" Finn asked.

"Perhaps because someone woke her up before five."

"But you're not cross and I woke you up," Clara answered.

"Yeah, well, I imagine you were a bit gentler than Finn," Tommy said. "And we know how our Ada needs her beauty rest, makes her lovely inside and out."

"Shut it, Thomas," Ada answered. "And make sure to wrap yourselves up in something. It's chilly out."

Tommy pulled a blanket off the back of the couch, wrapping them both. "Good enough for your standards, Mother Ada?"

She stepped forward, wrapping the blanket a bit tighter around her sister, tucking the fabric under her chin. "If either of you catches your death of cold out there—"

"We won't, Mother Ada," Clara said, mimicking Tommy's overdone inflection as she spoke her sister's name. "We're just going down the lane."

Ada rolled her eyes, shouting at them. "Fine! Go off and catch your colds, then!"

"See, my girl, that's why you're coming with me. You won't wake up half the lane shouting like our sister."

"Shut up, Thomas!" Ada said as she stepped through to the kitchen.

"Ada, you're not supposed—"

"Oh, come off it, Clara. Our brother deserves to be told to shut his mouth every now and then. Maybe if you said it, he'd listen."

"Now, Ada, don't go poisoning my Clara against—"

"Me? Me? You think I'm poisoning your Clara against you?"

"I won't give a second thought to poisoning the lot of you if you don't stop with all your shouting," Polly said as she came down the stairs, guiding Finn in front of her.

"I wasn't shouting," Finn said.

"I wasn't shouting either," Clara echoed.

"Yes, I know, my loves," Polly said, shifting her eyes from the twins to her other niece and nephew as she sharpened her tone. "You would never cause such trouble on Christmas morning."

Polly gave each of the twins a kiss on the cheek, offering them both a "Merry Christmas" and a smile before giving Tommy a peck on the cheek as well.

"Merry Christmas, Polly," Tommy said, beating her to the sentiment.

"Keep your sister under that blanket. Wouldn't want her to catch her death of—"

Clara and Finn both started giggling once again at Tommy's raised eyebrow, the three of them stopping suddenly as Polly cleared her throat.

"See." Ada threw her hands in the air. "Just as I've said. Tommy's always poisoning the twins against—"

"Calm down, Ada. Your brother's only doing it to rile you up. And you're only making it worse for yourself by letting him."

Ada huffed. "Unbelievable, the lot of you," she said, storming out of the room.

"Can we do breakfast first?" Finn asked, tugging on Polly's robe. "Then the presents?"

Polly opened her mouth to answer, cut off by the cursing and sound of crashing pots and pans one room over. This time Polly raised an eyebrow, smirking as the kids and Tommy chuckled.

"You alright in there, love?" Polly asked

"Fine, Polly," Ada answered. "And shut up, Tommy!"

"I didn't say anything, Ada."

"But you were thinking something or making a face or…just shut up and go get the boys."

-----

Clara snuggled against Tommy's chest, the two of them working together to hold the blanket up against the chilly air out on the lane.

Tommy directed them to John's house first, unsurprised when the door fell open with just a gentle push. They never locked up, Martha and John possessing something, perhaps an ill-placed bit of courage or comfort or stupidity that allowed them to feel protected within their four thin walls, only a barely competent door latch between them and the rest of Small Heath.

Clara released a small squeak as Tommy turned around to shut the door behind them, struggling to get out of his arms when she spotted Martha and the baby in a chair by the fire.

"Oh," Tommy said as he turned to them, allowing Clara out of his arms, her socked feet closing the distance to Martha and the baby in a few seconds. "Morning, Martha."

"I'd ask if you want to come in, but as you already have, maybe you'd still allow me to offer you a seat before you sit?"

Martha eyed Tommy for a moment before looking down at Clara, her little finger already clasped by the cooing baby.

"We didn't want to wake you," Tommy said. "Was planning to have Clara tiptoe in to steal John and the kids and let you sleep."

As little sleep as John got, they all knew Martha got even less, responding to most of the late-night and early morning calls of their babies before John even stirred.

"So you two decided to break in quietly, then?" Martha asked. "Sounds like a good way to get yourselves shot. You know he keeps a gun under his pillow."

"Where's Sarah?" Clara asked.

"Asleep with your brother. We can go wake the lazy lump if Uncle Tommy will take Joseph for a moment."

Tommy accepted the bundle of blankets into his arms, more adept and comfortable with an infant than most people would expect. He settled into the vacated chair as Martha took Clara's hand and led her up the stairs.

Martha stepped into the room first and pulled two things from the bed, the gun beneath John's pillow, which she stowed in the drawer of the nightstand, and then the sleeping toddler pulled from the spot between John and the wall. John stretched out the moment Sarah was pulled from the bed, subconsciously unraveling to occupy the space now vacated.

Martha gestured for Clara to have at it, the woman's smile further encouraging the excitement that had already budded in Clara on the way up the stairs.

Clara's words, her alarm bell greeting, shocked John's system, his hand going under the pillow in search of the missing gun before she'd even properly gotten the second syllable of 'merry' out from between her lips. Clara ran from across the room and landed with a grunt followed by bright giggles as she collided with his chest.

"Wake up, John. It's Christmas," she said between laughs.

John's heart was beating so fast and hard it took him a moment to recuperate, just lying there with his wife and sister giggling, his daughter waking to the noise, her laughter joining the chorus.

"Christmas, is it?" he said, glancing through the window to the dark street. "It's still Christmas Eve, I think."

"No, John, it's Christmas," Clara answered.

"Must be pretty fucking early, then."

Martha scolded him and John sat up, Clara sliding off his chest to sit in his lap.

"Tommy and I broke in to wake you up."

"Broke in?" John asked, glancing up to his wife for confirmation.

"Your brother," Martha said. "He never fucking knocks. Just lets himself in like he owns the place."

John raised an eyebrow at the language he'd just been corrected for and Martha rolled her eyes. "I suppose your sister has already learned it. Sarah, too. We'll try better with Joseph."

John smirked. "Clara learned it around Sarah's age. Imagine this sweet little thing sat right there at the breakfast table demanding more fucking eggs. Gave Aunt Pol quite a shock to the heart the first time she heard her say it, eh Clara?"

"I don't remember," Clara answered.

"I suppose you wouldn't," John said, depositing his sister on the covers as he pushed himself out of bed and began pulling on the rest of his clothes. "Has Pol started breakfast yet?"

-----

When their fourth set of knocks went unanswered, Tommy shifted Clara to his opposite hip and fished the key to number 57 Watery Lane out of his pocket.

The first floor was dark and silent, and Tommy kicked an empty whiskey bottle out of the way as he carried Clara towards the stairs. Clara wiggled out of the blanket and Tommy's arms and he set her down on the top step, Arthur's bedroom door angled open to reveal a heap of blankets on top of the bed.

Clara intended the same wake-up for Arthur as she'd given to John and prepared to launch herself on top of him, but Tommy caught her under the arms, pulling her back up to his hip as he spotted a delicately arched foot slip from under the mound of covers.

"Hey!" Clara attempted a whisper, but it still came out as a shout. "Put me—"

"Shush, love. It's still early," Arthur mumbled, assuming the noise came from the bed beside him. "Give me another hour of sleep and I'll give you—"

Tommy cleared his throat. "Merry Christmas, Arthur."

It startled him and the bed quickly became a mess of limbs and blankets as Arthur and the woman he'd brought home began to thrash about.

"Who's your friend, Arthur?" Tommy asked, nodding towards the woman hiding behind his shoulder.

Arthur stammered, reaching down to grab his shirt and pants off the floor and pulling them on beneath the covers.

"Ah, is that Eva?" Tommy asked. "Merry Christmas, Eva."

"Merry Christmas, Tommy," the young woman answered tentatively, pulling the covers closer around her as Arthur got off the bed.

Clara leaned forward in Tommy's arms, extending her hand. "Merry Christmas. I'm Clara Shelby."

Eva bit back a giggle, the embarrassment of the moment slipping away as the little girl looked at her expectantly, not a bit phased by finding a girl in her brother's bed. Eva pulled a hand out from beneath the covers and shook Clara's hand. "Merry Christmas, Clara."

"Are you coming to Christmas?" Clara asked, settling back against Tommy's chest.

"Oh, um…"

"Go on. Get yourself dressed," Arthur said, gathering up her things and tossing them onto the bed. "You're welcome at breakfast. The baby has spoken."

"No, no, that's alright. I've got my own family to get home to."

Arthur turned to his siblings. "Has Aunt Pol started breakfast yet?"

Tommy nodded. "C'mon, Eva. You haven't lived 'til you've had a Shelby family Christmas breakfast. If you thought Arthur could drink, you should see him eat."

"There's biscuits," Clara added. "Biscuits and candies for breakfast!"

"And everything else you could imagine," Arthur added.

"No, it's really alright. My sister's expecting me," Eva said.

"Tillie's expecting you at five in the morning?" Tommy asked.

Tommy knew the sisters. He couldn't imagine Tillie was home yet either.

"Well, I might sleep a bit more and then go over," she answered.

"Suit yourself," Arthur answered, kissing the girl before turning. "Lock up for me when you leave, alright, sweetheart?"

"Sure, Arthur."

Arthur pulled Clara from Tommy's arms, kissing her cheek as they stepped out of his room. "Merry Christmas, love. A bit early this year, eh?"

"It's Finn's fault," Clara said. "He woke Ada."

"Yeah, and you woke me thirty minutes before that," Tommy added, the three of them making their way out onto the lane.

"But we were gonna wait."

Tommy nodded. "I suppose you and Finn'll be taking naps this afternoon, being up so early."

"No naps, Tommy! It's Christmas." Clara turned in Arthur's arms twisting both ways to meet each of the boys' eyes. "Tell him, Arthur!"

Arthur laughed. "I may be taking a nap, myself, love. You two wake John yet?"

Tommy gestured ahead of them to where Martha, John, and the babies were making their way down the street towards number six.

"Let's wake Charlie, too, eh?" Arthur asked, stepping over and banging hard on Charlie's door until the upstairs window opened.

"Christ, Arthur. It's five in the fucking morning. People are sleeping."

"Merry Christmas, Charlie," Arthur said.

"It's time for Christmas, Uncle Charlie!" Clara said, smiling up at him.

Charlie sighed, rolling his eyes. "Did your aunt start breakfast, then?"

The boys and Clara nodded and Charlie shut the window without another word, appearing moments later beside them on the sidewalk. There was nothing quite like the Shelby family Christmas Breakfast.

-----

Read more Little Lady Blinder here.

{Part 3}

-----

🏷:

@beautycinders​ @buckybluebarnes @cecii22me​ @lovemissyhoneybee​ @marquelapage​ @midnight-dreams-23​ @mo-onstarrs​ @ohhersheybars​​ @pollyrepents @unicorndetective22

[mediocre--writing]

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMeknnubu/

I think I can send links but- I just saw this Pre K teacher tiktok & now all I can think of is a future AU where Steve takes like maybe a younger cousin or maybe a friends kid to school (or even his own kid??) and he walks in on fucking bad boy Billy Hargrove, still rocking his leather jacket and combat boots, seated on the carpet doing this with a bunch of Pre K kids as their teacher. Just this big mean badass dude sitting with a bunch of kids, being the best, most sweet teacher in the world

Bonus points for him having a battle jacket of some sort that he lets them add too and play with the dulled down spikes and studs on. And he has a class where the kids all make a patch one big patch for him to add to his jacket because he loves them so much

AND even more points if he just says his whole nice personality is “fake and for work only because it was the first job he got” but It’s actually real, and he really just likes being with the kids all day because their fun & they unconditionally love him, especially on his bad days where he’s sad & less motivated. I just crave soft emotional stuff 😔

steve, for as kind a fellow as he is, really should have thought twice about offering to take his nephew to pre-k every day.

jill, his older sister, had to be at work by 6 every morning during the week and had no means to take her son, patrick, to school every day.

and steve offered because what else was there to do? he worked two jobs that both started later in the day and jill offered to give him gas money to do it, so why not?

plus, patrick really was a sweetheart, he was just an energetic kid. steve preferred older kids. the younger ones tested his patience too much.

but imagine his surprise when he walks into the building, going to patrick’s classroom, turning into the doorway to see billy hargrove, same as he was when they were in high school, sitting on a colorful, patterned rug, animatedly talking to children.

“biwwy!” patrick yelled as he ran from steve’s side to his... teacher... and hugged him super tight.

“hey, patrick, my buddy!”

steve felt like this may be a dream. there is no way that billy hargrove, mullet and all, was patrick’s pre-k teacher.

billy looked to the door, where steve was still standing, and offered a smile. patrick looked to where billy was looking, excitedly telling him about how his super fun uncle was driving him to school now.

billy was engaging with the kids. he talked along with them and was able to balance all the kids at once. he looked happy, steve realized.

steve left a few moments later, making sure patrick was ok and staring at billy for a while longer.

it’s not until the day before winter break that billy and steve actually interact again.

the class is having a holiday party and parents are encouraged to come and bring food, drink, or just general supervision.

steve had made tons of cookies, enjoying his fattening hobby of baking, and they were all decorated with fun santa’s or snowflakes or christmas trees.

he was even told to make a few blank cookies and bring spare icing for kids to decorate during their party stations.

when steve got to the classroom closer to the afternoon, it was still nap time for the 15 kids in the class, all curled up on small cots and bundled in blankets.

when he came in, billy was sitting at a table near the door, organizing strings by color and had stacks of paper and boxes of markers organized the same way.

“hargrove,” steve greeted, “i made cookies, didn’t know if there were any allergies, so they’re pretty plain, no chocolate or anything. and i didn’t decorate a few, like you asked,”

“thanks,” billy didn’t look up to him, still hunched over the table detangling strings. “‘can set ‘em over there,” billy vaguely gestured.

steve went to set them on a table with a fun, winter themed cover over it.

he came back to sit by billy at the craft table because he didn’t know what else to do. plus, he didn’t want to wake any sleeping children.

“so, why are you a pre-k teacher?” steve asked.

“getting straight to the point, huh?”

“well, you look like that,” steve gestured to his embellished leather jacket, the mullet, the tight jeans (not as tight anymore, he did have to get up and down off the floor), and the hefty black boots that could probably crush a kid’s tiny fingers. “and i haven’t heard about you going through a brain reset or something, so what’s up?”

“it’s the only thing i could find,” billy grunted, not liking this conversation.

“don’t teachers have to go to college like everyone else? and have to have like a specific thing that says they’re qualified to be a teacher? seems like an awful lot of work for this to be the only thing you could find,”

“well, i can boss four year olds around all day, who wouldn’t like that job?” billy countered.

steve went to respond when there was a creak heard from behind him. one of the kids, a young girl with a wild head of hair, was walking over to billy with her blanket still wrapped over her shoulders.

“hey, jeanie, what’s wrong, doll?” billy asked, drawing his eyes away from the tangled string, which he didn’t do when talking to steve. he was giving the girl— jeanie— his full attention.

“i woke up,” jeanie said as she made her way closer to billy, “i got nightmares,”

billy’s face turned sympathetic as he put his arms out for jeanie, allowing her to crawl into his lap and rest her head on his chest while he wrapped her tight in his arms.

“wanna tell me what it was about?” billy asked, but only got a shake of her head in return, “that’s ok, you can sleep for another 10 minutes, doll. you’re safe,”

she was cuddled up in his arms, poking at the dull spikes on his shoulders and the silver buttons around the jacket. she looked utterly peaceful as she started to doze off again.

billy was so gentle with the little girl, adjusting her in his arms, making sure she was stable in his lap, before moving one arm back to the string, as if doing it one armed would be easier than before.

“i can do it,” steve offered in a hushed tone, “the string. i can untangle it for you,”

billy slid the string ball over to steve’s side of the table and let him take a crack at it while he started rubbing jeanie’s back.

steve had managed to get the string ball undone in the 10 minutes of nap time they had left. the boys didn’t talk through those 10 minutes, but steve would sneak glances over at billy often.

billy, for someone who tried to run a group of kids over once upon a time, was really great with younger kids. he was able to keep jeanie asleep, even when he moved an arm or straightened his back, something steve couldn’t do with patrick.

another parent showed up right when nap time was going to end, carrying bags of board games and such.

two more parents showed after the kids had woken up, and soon the party was in full swing. the kids were having a delightful time, half of them covered in glitter and icing, but nothing a good bath won’t fix.

billy was thriving in the chaos of four year olds, making sure they were following directions but still having fun, keeping the morale up and excitement high.

the parents seemed to love him, from what steve heard. one parent, wendy, even said that she didn’t like billy to begin with, thought he would be irresponsible and mean, but her kid loves him.

billy, for as much of a big guy as he was, didn’t seem to tower over kids menacingly when standing at full height. and it didn’t seem taunting when he would crouch down. he was on their level, in many ways.

once parents started taking kids home at the end of the day, billy, steve, and patrick were left to help clean up, though patrick was knocked out on the multicolored rug, he’d used up a lot of energy that afternoon.

“so, what do you want me to do?” steve asked, watching billy sweep the floors.

“you can leave if you want, i’ve got it. plus, pat seems to be knocked out, huh?”

“he’s already sleeping, and i feel really bad leaving you to clean everything.”

billy sighed, looking around at the disaster that was his room, “could you start wiping down tables? clorox and paper towels are in the far right cabinet, second shelf,”

they got to work and the whole classroom was clean within the hour. billy was throwing his bag over his shoulder and steve was carrying patrick in his arms as they walked out to their cars.

“do you mind opening my door?” steve asked after many attempts to get patrick adjusted in his arms to move and open the back door.

billy moved over to open the back door of steve’s car before walking back over to his car, the same car he’d been driving since high school.

i guess people really never change, steve thought.

once he got patrick settled into his car seat and got the car running to warm it up before he drove home, steve stood and talked to billy for a few minutes. just casual conversation, a thanks from billy for steve’s help.

“would you, maybe, wanna go get a drink or something some time?” steve asked, awkward as ever.

the rest was history, steve and billy would see each other for a date every weekend and they’d wave to the other in the mornings and afternoons.

they had a similar situation when the spring party came, steve bringing decorated and undecorated cookies for the kids and showing up during their nap time.

but steve had something in his bag that he wouldn’t let billy see.

through the party, steve would bring the mystery item to each kid, making extra sure that billy never saw it.

even at their date that weekend, billy couldn’t get it out of steve to find out what it was.

at the very end of the year, they have another party (and steve does not remember his pre-k days, but he doesn’t think they had this many parties).

billy has been weird the past week, finally realizing that he’s not gonna see these kids often, if at all, anymore. he’d grown very attached.

but, in true billy manner, he refused to let anyone know he was upset about a bunch of toddlers.

that’s where steve’s secret came in handy.

you see, on that day of the spring party, steve had gotten a piece of paper and has each kid sign it in a different color. he’d brought it to a small shop and they’d been able to transfer it onto a patch, one for billy’s jacket.

it was scaled down to be the size of an index card, but all the names were still legible.

when they’d given it to billy at the end of the day, before kids went home, billy almost cried.

he loved the kids so much and loved the connection and impact they have had on him without him knowing. he’s gonna miss rocking jeanie to sleep three times a week because she can never stay asleep alone.

he’s gonna miss the chaos that this group of children, specifically, brought. they made his day great, even if he was feeling especially shitty.

they helped him feel good about himself. kids don’t lie, that’s for sure, and billy created such a strong bond with them that all their thanks and love will be forever ingrained onto his heart.

[celosiaa]

let me be your shelter

CHRISTMAS FIC CHRISTMAS FIC!! Chapter one is here--many many days after I intended it to be up. It’s not exactly what I want it to be. But I hope you’ll find it enjoyable all the same. Chapter two is coming, I promise :)

“Come on, dads!!”

Calling from far ahead of them, Emma races through the snow, braids flying behind her in the bitter cold wind. Not that she seems to mind—according to the past week of dancing around the kitchen, marking the days off with big red x’s on their wall calendar, and reminding her dads over and over again that this Friday is the day—this was set to be the best day of her twelve-year-old life yet.

“Come on!”

“Just slow down a moment, Em!” Jon calls with a laugh, brushing a wayward curl out of his eyes. “You’re missing a lot of good ones!”

It’s true—she had, in fact, been flying so quickly past the rows and rows of Christmas trees, ripe for the cutting, barely brushing past on her search to find just the right one. That of course, Martin had to remind her could only be so tall, could only be so wide if it were to fit in their flat. And naturally, it didn’t seem she was going to listen.

“I want to find the biggest one!”

“I know, habibti,” Jon calls back. “But remember what Dad said, right? Martin?”

At the sound of his name, his eyes snap to Jon’s, brows lifted as if slightly alarmed.

“What I—said?”

“About the tree, darling,” Jon mutters, slipping his double-gloved hand around Martin’s bare one, grounding him.

This time of year was always difficult for him—the darkening of the sky casting long shadows over his thoughts, which already fill with fog far more often than makes Jon comfortable. Even if he does have a sun lamp at home, something to drive it away for a bit—it has been abundantly clear that the past week especially has been a struggle. Today, however, things had seemed a bit lighter—or at least, so Jon had thought.

“Oh—right. Right, darling, we’ve got to get just a medium-sized one, yeah? Otherwise it won’t stand up straight!” he says, a ghost of a smile playing across his wind-flushed face.

“Ugghh, fine,” she laments, rolling her eyes as far as they will go and widening the gap between them in frustration.

“Is it storming up there, love?” Jon asks quietly, squeezing his hand and trying to catch his gaze with his own.

At the familiar metaphor, Martin obliges—smile drawn up so his cheeks just touch the edges of his glasses, hiding the deep bags that had only just begun to fade from the depressive episode of the past weeks.

“Just overcast, is all. I’m fine,” he assures, squeezing back—and Jon raises an eyebrow in question, doubtful of Martin’s definition of “fine.”

“No, really, I am,” he laughs, bending down to press a quick kiss to the top of Jon’s head. “Promise. Thank you for checking.”

Supposing that would have to do for now, Jon decides to let the matter go—looping his arm through Martin’s as they keep walking down the snow-dusted path.

“Alright,” he whispers, brushing his lips against Martin’s shoulder. “Let me know if the weather turns.”

“I will. Don’t worry, love.”

Of course I will. Always.

“Here! I’ve got one!”

Shouting excitedly from up ahead, Emma waves her gloved hands around in the air, before diving right into the branches to hug the trunk of the tree that was, objectively, the best of the lot. This pulls a true, gorgeous bit of laughter from Martin—the first time Jon has heard it in weeks.

To Jon, there could not be a single thing more lovely.

“That’s a good one, Em,” Jon praises as they reach her, trying very hard not to think about all the sap likely to stick in her newly-plaited hair. “What do you think, Dad?”

“Hmm…”

Feigning a moment of deep consideration earns him an intense doe-eyed, pleading look from his daughter, silently begging. As if he could truly refuse her.

“Well, by my calculations,” he says, winking a bit at his husband, who rolls his eyes fondly. “That should do just wonderfully.”

“YES!!!” Emma shouts, immediately releasing her hold on the tree and wrapping her sap-laden arms around them both. “Thank you thank you THANK YOU!!”

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

It’s the first time the fog has truly cleared from Martin’s eyes in month, and Jon smiles—choosing to cherish it dearly.

—

“Little bit to the left, habibi.”

“Aw, Boss, I didn’t know we were on that level!” Tim grins, helping Martin to straighten out the tree in the corner of their flat. “Should have said something sooner, habibi.”

“Shut it, Tim.”

The winning smile he flashes Jon at his coveted prize—a bit of exasperation from him—sends a pang of warmth spreading through Jon’s chest. Even if it’s been so many years now since…everything, he still feels so lucky to be on the receiving end of Tim’s smiles again. And a bit undeserving, if he’s honest. They’ve talked about it, of course—many times, in fact—but Jon has long since been forced to accept that things will never be quite like they were before.

Though that does mean that things have the potential to be better, and for that…for that, Jon is grateful.

“Could we focus please?” Martin pants a bit irritably, as he bears the brunt of the tree’s weight. “I’d rather not be squashed by this thing.”

“Sorry, Marto! Left it is then, habibi.”

“Stop it.”

“Never.”

—

A few hours later finds them settled around a lovely fire, steaming cups of tea in their hands, courtesy of Martin. Sasha has joined them now as well, curled up with Tim on an armchair with Emma sitting at their feet. Beside him on the sofa sits Martin, his arm wrapped lightly around his shoulders—and as he’s done every holiday since the rebirth of the world, Jon finds himself pondering the fact that he never would have thought this possible. Certainly not for him, for any of them, really. They should, all of them, be dead. Or worse. And yet—and yet. Here they are, making amends. Making their home together.

A family.

“Em, you would not believe the kinds of things your Baba and I used to get up to,” Tim grins, the bit of wine he’s had over the course of the evening painting his cheeks rosy. “Before he became my boring boss, that is. He’s absolutely mad.”

“Tim—“

“You hush,” he bellows, still laughing. “Emma deserves to know about the time we got trapped in that apartment complex, do you remember?”

“You’ve just told me to hush.”

“Hush, Jon, I’m telling a story!”

Rolling his eyes, Jon picks up his own glass again, taking the opportunity to sneak a glance at Martin in the meantime—pleased to see the bit of ruddiness masking the lightest of his freckles, a whisper of a smile planted on his face as he listens to the conversation. Nothing cloudy in his eyes, no fog—just Martin, his Martin. And in Jon’s opinion, that more than warrants the small kiss he presses into the line of his jaw, just beneath his ear.

“Hmm, what’s that for, darling?” Martin asks, turning towards him.

“Oh, nothing,” Jon hums against him,  “Just you. Just this.”

“Well, you won’t hear me complain.”

“Eww, dads!!”

Alas, they’d been caught—a disapproving Emma wrinkles her nose at them from her spot on the floor, Tim and Sasha muffling their giggles behind her.

“Sorry Em, sorry,” Martin laughs, untangling himself a bit from Jon and reaching for his own glass of wine. “Have to forgive us old and gross people.”

“You don’t have to be gross just because you’re old!” she insists, pointing a finger back at her aunt and uncle behind her. “Uncle Tim and Auntie Sasha are old too, but they’re not gross!”

“Hey!!”

Sasha’s look of incredulousness is enough to set Jon into fits—but something seems to catch a bit in his chest as he does, a vise clamping down over his ribcage.

Damn it damn it

His next inhale brings him no relief, merely tightening the grip, everything in his chest folding in on itself as he finds himself in the throes of once again gasping for air. Distantly, he rather thinks the wheezing sound of his breath to be embarrassing—but there is little on which he can focus other than keeping his vision from narrowing, narrowing.

“Jon?”

“M-Mar—”

“Are you panicking, love?”

Air air need air

“Can’t—”

He’s cut off by the closeness of his own airways sending out his breath with a fit of coughing, harsh and painful and—well, there goes his vision again.

“Here, Jon, your inhaler’s right here—”

Air air need air

Can’t breathe

Wrapping a shaking hand around Martin’s, Jon takes as deep of an inhale of the medicine as he can, holding holding holding his breath until it hurts, before letting it out—begging everything not to close again before he can get something up to his starving brain.

“Take it again, Jon. One more, come on.”

It comes just a bit easier this time, the gasping just a bit deepened, letting him pull it deeper into his lungs, opening everything enough to start his vision returning to him again. Even so, it takes a few minutes of just breathing, the room around him uncomfortably silent, save for the fading whistle of his chest, before he can even think about picking up his head again from where he’s braced it against his arms.

“—alright? You with us?”

“Sor—sorry,” he pants, still a bit breathless, shaky, heart racing uncomfortably as it always does. “Dunno—what happened.”

“Alright, Baba?”

Emma rests her hand gently atop his knee, looking quickly between himself and Martin. Lord knows he’s scared them enough times; caused them enough anxiety over his health that the guilt weighs so unbearably heavy on him in moments like this. When his daughter has to be his comfort. When he knows it ought to be the other way around.

Burden burden terrible father burden burden—

“Sorry—ha—Em,” he gasps, offering her a tight smile and a nod. The best he can do for now. “Fine—m’fine.”

“Was it something I did?” an unusually quiet Tim asks from across the room, hesitant to even draw his attention.

Damn it damn it

Of course I’ve got to screw things up again.

When Tim had first reentered their lives, they had found it difficult to process on both sides—the grief and anger and distrust layered up with trauma had proven to be a difficult thing to break down. Unhelped by the panic rising unbidden in Jon’s throat every time Tim had raised his voice, even with friendly teasing at first. Though he would never say, Jon knows how deeply this had wounded his friend—and Jon could certainly understand how upsetting it is for your own voice to become another’s nightmare.

They’d worked on it, just like everything else. Nothing of the kind of panic Jon once felt upon hearing an increase in volume has happened in years at this point, but still—still, Tim is afraid. Afraid of how fragile, how stupid, how unforgiving—

“N-no, no. Promise—not you,” he is quick to assure, snapping his head up to meet Tim’s eyes at once, desperate for his trust in this. “Not you.”

The quiet grief in the darkness of Tim’s eyes betrays his doubt.

“Why don’t you stay here and recover while I finish up with the cooking, love?” Martin offers, already rising to do just that.

“Oh—no, Martin—“

He’s tired he’s tired he’s already tired and spent and still recovering

You make everything worse

“It’s alright,” he smiles down at him, still lined with well-hidden exhaustion. “I’ve got it. Just take a minute, okay?”

“I’ll help,” Tim offers at once, following him into the kitchen. To get out of his sight, just in case he was making things worse after all. Just in case Jon was lying.

Damn it damn it

“Incoming!!”

From behind him, Emma’s voice rings out—and the cat is dropped unceremoniously into his lap, giving a soft mrrow of indignation at such treatment. As soon as Jon gives a small smile and a laugh, however, the Duquessa (for she must be properly titled) begins to purr at once, kneading his thigh a bit before draping herself across his lap.

“There you are, Jon—you’re healed!” chuckles Sasha as she stands, coming to sit beside him on the sofa.

“Quite.”

—

“Alright, love?”

Words a bit muffled by the toothbrush in his mouth, Martin gazes down at him with furrowed brows where Jon sits on their bed, lost as usual in the thickest, driest biography Martin has ever seen.

“Mmm.”

“Jon.”

“Hmm?”

His attention is caught at last, reluctantly tearing his eyes away from the hungrily-devoured words and toward his husband—hair a mess, in just boxers and a t-shirt, a bit of toothpaste splodged around the corners of his mouth.

“Sorry—sorry, what did you say?” he asks, unable to hide a fond smile as Martin rolls his eyes, turning around to rinse out his mouth and set down his toothbrush. When he’s finished, he meets Jon’s questioning look with a smiling shake of the head—before pulling Jon in to melt into his side, pressing a kiss against his hairline.

“I asked if you were alright,” he repeats, letting his lips linger longer atop Jon’s forehead this time. “You’ve been sniffly.”

“Have I?”

“You hadn’t noticed?”

“Not particularly.”

It is the truth, although a bit masked—if he is, indeed, sniffly, it seems likely to have contributed to his lingering shortness of breath that evening. Not that he had found it especially necessary to mention this to Martin. No reason to worry him needlessly, after all.

When Martin fetches him the box of tissues from the living room, however, he finds himself grateful. Something certainly seems to have built up in his sinuses, and though eased a bit by his ministrations, it seems to be something of which he cannot entirely rid himself.

“Aw, darling,” Martin tuts with concern, pressing the back of his hand against Jon’s forehead, just to check again. “Are you getting ill?”

No no no no

Can’t be ill

Can’t worry him

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” he assures, offering Martin a bit of a puffy-eyed smile. “Probably just from being out in the cold.”

“Hmm.” Worrying at his lower lip, Martin sweeps his eyes briefly over the rest of Jon’s body. “What about your joints? Are you alright?”

“Yes, Martin,” Jon chuckles, rolling his eyes and fondly pressing a kiss against his husbands’ cheek. “No need to fuss, love. You need to get some rest.”

“Fussing is my specialty, though.”

“Don’t I know it.”

A small, lopsided smile spreads across his face—and Jon finds himself flushing at the gentleness of it.

Gorgeous.

“Alright,” Martin murmurs, tenderly tilting Jon’s chin upwards and into a kiss. “I’ll quit fussing, then. If I must.”

“You absolutely must. Or we’ll never get to sleep.”

“I’ll do my best, habibi.”

—

Click.

At the soft noise, Jon bolts awake, heart already pounding—from the shock of being startled awake, or POTS, he could not be sure. Perhaps both.

All he knows is that his heart is racing, and Martin is gone, and he can’t breathe.

Fuck fuck fuck

His lungs are at once too full and desperately empty—useless, vision tunneling as he pants into the darkness, reaching out blindly for his inhaler on the nightstand. Shaky, he nearly loses his hold on it twice before bringing it to his lips, forcing as much air out as he can before drawing a shallow breath of the medicine. But he cannot hold it, cannot keep it in long enough for it to work.

Help. He needs help.

He needs Martin.

“M—ha—Mar—“

He cannot choke out the words, not around the closing up of his throat, forcing him to cough without air. Without the ability to breathe back in. Dizzy, dizzy, can’t breathe, breathe breathe help Martin—

“Jon—oh, shit shit shit!”

Distantly, he hears the sound of running feet retreating from the bedroom and back down the hall—but his vision is starting to grey out, heart pounding out of his chest, and all he can focus on is don’t pass out don’t pass out don’t pass out.

“Alright, here, here—I got the nebulizer, shit. Christ, Jon.”

He loses time for a few minutes. Nothing remains in his memory but a swirling, spinning picture of the room around him, the feeling of something being placed over his mouth and nose. And when he comes fully back around, it’s to the feeling of Martin’s strong arms bracing him forward, keeping his airways as open as possible while the medicine has been allowed to work. To Martin’s shadowed face, bruises ever-deepening beneath his eyes.

Jon does not need the full powers of the Beholding anymore to know that Martin has once again gone without sleep.

“M—sorry—“

“Hush, Jon, just hush,” Martin reassures, rubbing his back when the coughing starts up again, nearly hard enough to vomit.

He won’t be trying to speak again any time soon.

“You’re alright, I’m here.”

As the minutes pass, the breaths come more easily, returning Jon’s awareness more fully. Now that his vision is no longer swirling, he takes stock of the pulse ox clipped on his finger, Martin’s eyes anxiously watching it, the mobile grasped tightly in one shaking hand, ready to call 999 at any moment.

“Martin—“

“Hush, Jon.”

“M’sorry.”

“Nothing to apologize for, love.”

But there is, isn’t there? Worry, worry, always worry over him. Deepening his husband’s exhaustion, burden, anxiety.

It seems to be his lot in life to make things worse.

“Doing any better?” Martin asks as the wheezing fades from his exhales, though he wouldn’t dare remove the mask for a few more minutes at least.

“Better,” Jon whispers. “Dunno—what happened.”

“It’s been a while since you’ve woken up like this,” Martin worries, brushing a stray lock of hair out of Jon’s eyes and tucking it behind his ear. “Thought we were managing a little better lately.”

“So did—I.”

With a long, concerned sigh, Martin shifts to sit just slightly behind him, pulling him back to lean against his chest. For once—for once—the warmth and comfort of it all outweighs the guilt of its necessity.

“We’ll figure it out,” Martin assures, the slight tremor of his voice belying his uncertainty. “We’ll get it sorted, love.”

“M’sorry.”

“Shh. Just be still, Jon. Just be still.”

Though neither of them may be able to sleep that night— there is a certain rest to be found in just holding each other. And for now—for now, that is enough.

[jimlingss]

Sugar and Coffee [6]

Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7

➜ Words: 7k

➜ Genres: 99.5% Fluff, 0.5% Angst, Pâtisserie school!AU

➜ Summary: It isn't hard to be a pâtisserie chef, but it's not a piece of cake either. It seems like for you in particular, life keeps throwing in one wrench after another. It always finds ways to make your sweets bitter. The cherry on top is Jeon Jungkook — a rival with a sensitive sweet tooth who always finds ways to complain about you.

➜ Notes: I know it’s not Christmas or even remotely winter, but in the timeline of the fic, it is. I hope you guys don’t mind.

cr.

Sometimes when Jungkook doesn’t hear from you for an extended amount of time, he wonders who you’ve found to terrorize now.   But he doesn’t have to wonder for a long time since you always find your way back to him, plopping down at his table at the dining center during breakfast when he’s mid-conversation with Jimin, sitting beside him during the lectures and online shopping on your laptop when you’re supposed to be paying attention, texting him to ask how you pop a pimple on your back….   The list is endless. You weasel your way into his life until it’s almost natural. Like you’re Hoseok or Taehyung.    And that extended amount of time where he wonders whose life you’re ruining decreases from days to hours to minutes until he eventually stops pondering altogether, knowing that it’s his life you’re destroying and no one else's.    “So I’m guessing you didn’t completely bomb the tempering chocolate part of your final.”   You look over at him with a raised brow. “Who told you?”   “You would’ve screamed about it over text if you did.”   “Hmph.” You tear your eyes away from the dark-haired man, continuing to scrub your dishes beside him. “That’s right. I did well, no thanks to you.”   “Excuse me, I think it was through our failures that you learnt the most.”   The kitchen is still bustling with kids cleaning up after themselves. The two of you are beside each other, washing your own dishes. You hate that Jungkook’s sharing a sink with you, but he complained there was nowhere else to go, and you figured kicking him somewhere else would’ve been more work.   “I’ll admit, it was the motivation to destroy you and win that got me through it.”   He scoffs as you smile mockingly at him, finishing the rest of your dishes. “Are you almost done with all your finals?”   “I have one more tomorrow and I’m finished. You?”   “I’m done with all of them.”   “Wow, are you trying to brag, you little shit?”   Jungkook grins. “Look, I—”   He’s interrupted by the vibration of a phone.    Jungkook quirks a brow, knowing full well there’s not supposed to be any phones in the kitchen. It’s a dumb policy of your teacher, but a policy nonetheless.   You pout at him, pulling the device out of your back pocket. “I’m waiting for a call, alright?”   Luckily class is over and there's only cleaning to be done, so you don’t get into trouble for turning around to answer the call.   Jungkook continues to wash his plates and bowls, minding his own business. But he inadvertently catches the conversation.   “Hey….yeah….I’m good...uh-huh. I have an exam tomorrow and then I’m off for the rest of the month until the second week of January.” You’re speaking in hushed whispers, arm hugging your body as the other presses the phone to your ear.   You peek over your shoulder and Jungkook looks away right in time. But out of the corner of his eye, he sees you frown and whip yourself back around into the corner.    “What do you mean? No, mom. I...broke up with Jin, remember? I’m not—…..what? Are there any more tickets?” There’s a long silence. You release a frustrated sigh, pressing your hand on your forehead. “Can’t you cancel your trip then? Or find a way….”   There’s yet another pause. Jungkook can vaguely hear voices on the other line.    “So you’re just going to leave me behind?” His ears perk when your voice cracks like you’re going to cry, or maybe you’re just angry. Jungkook can’t really tell. “Well, what am I supposed to do for three whole weeks? There are no classes, mom. I don’t want to spend Christmas by mysel—Fine. Fine! Have it your way!” you spit in a whisper that’s loud enough to draw the attention of your other classmates nearby too. “You have fun on your little trip then. No—don’t talk to me! I’m hanging up.”   You remain there for another ten seconds and Jungkook watches you hang up, sliding the phone into the pocket of your apron. He looks at you fast enough to see how your eyes are glossy and diverts his vision, not wanting to embarrass you or put you on the spot.   “Trouble in paradise?”   “There’s always fucking trouble in paradise,” you mutter. “Nothing ever goes right for me. Whatever.”   Jungkook put the dishes away with you. He decides to address the elephant in the room, clearing his throat. “I, uh, couldn’t help but hear…so what’s gonna be your plans for the break?”   “I don’t know.” You sigh again. “I’ll probably just stay here. Work on some stuff. Learn a recipe or two or maybe get a head start for next semester. You?”   “I’m going home. We’re not really religious, but my entire family usually gathers for the holiday for gift exchange and to eat and stuff,” he says, trying not to rub salt all over your wound.    You nod. “That sounds nice. Have fun.”   There’s tense silence again, merely the noise of bowls and plate clanging as you put them back where they belong. But Jungkook is unable to move from the conversation. His thoughts brew in the forefront of his mind.   He knows it’s unnecessary, that he shouldn’t, but his conscience compels him otherwise.   “You should come with me.”   Goddamn. Jungkook hates himself for being such a good person. Why can’t he be as cold as Yoongi? He’s gonna have to ask the man how he does it.    But Jungkook also knows if it were him who just got dumped by his two year long girlfriend, he wouldn’t want to spend the holidays at this damned, empty institution by himself.    “Pardon?” You give him that look of yours, like you’re disgusted or confused. He’s not sure which one it is in this context.   “You should come with me.” The words leave Jungkook’s mouth before he can consider what he’s exactly offering. “Spend Christmas with my family.”   “What?” You shake your head. You’re not appalled, merely perplexed at why he’s going out of his way to propose something so big. “Why would I do that?”   Jungkook shrugs. “You don’t have to. I just think you shouldn’t have to stay here by yourself.”   Your expression softens. “Won’t it be weird?”   “No, my parents won’t mind. Taehyung and Jimin actually spent Christmas with me two years ago and that was fine. You don’t have to stay for the entire break, but at least for the holidays….”   Jungkook knows that expression — the nibble of your bottom lip, the way your brows knit together. You’re touched by his hospitality and benevolence, but hesitant as you consider it, even though you want to.   “There’s no pressure,” he says and quickly adds, “I wouldn’t want you to embarrass yourself when I put the ornaments on the tree better than you can.”   All at once, you make a noise between a scoff and a laugh. It bubbles out of your throat and makes him smile. “How does someone put ornaments on the tree better?”   Jungkook shrugs. “Someone without a sense of aesthetics wouldn’t know.”   Your mouth curls. “Is that a challenge, Jeon?”   “You have to come to find out.” He smirks.   “Okay, sounds like a plan then.”   Jungkook grins, ruffling your hair with his hand until you swat it away. “We’re leaving in two days. Get packing.”

If you told yourself half a year ago you’d be lugging a suitcase and backpack to Jeon Jungkook’s parents’’ house, you would’ve laughed and then called the psych ward to pick up an insane girl in your dorm room claiming she’s from the future.   But you guess in the recent months, insane things have been happening to you one after another.   You’ve been on the bus for five hours now, slowly making your way up north where it’s icy and snowy. You only get to stretch out your legs at a rest stop for about an hour.   “Took you long enough.” Jungkook pushes himself off the wall he was leaning on, eyes flickering down to a bag you’re holding. You notice his stare and you move the bag behind your back. “I thought you went to the bathroom. Went shopping on the way?”   “It was just a souvenir I picked up. A lame key chain for the occasion. How much longer is this gonna take?”   “Well we’re halfway through, so another five hours give or take?”   “Oh my god.” You sigh while stepping outside. The snow hits you at once and it makes your cheeks numb in the frost. “My ass is so sore.”   “You’re the one talking.” Jungkook rolls his shoulder. “My shoulder aches from your heavy head.”   “Hey, it’s your fault for stealing the window seat.”   “I didn’t know you would be sleeping four out of the five hours.” He sighs with a small smirk, feigning frustration. Yet Jungkook’s the first to climb onto the bus.    There are people all around, napping, playing games. You put your souvenir bag into your backpack, sliding it back onto the overhead bin before you look down at the boy who’s settled in his seat in spite of his complaints, looking out the window like he’s having thoughtful contemplation and there’s something in that empty brain of his.   “Are you not gonna give me the window seat?”   Jungkook turns his head, arm propped up on the rest. He flashes a brilliant smile. “Why would I?”   “So your shoulder doesn’t have to be sore anymore, Jeon.”   He hums a low note. “Nah. I’m good.”   You scoff. “Your call.”   You plop down, immediately lolling your heavy head onto his shoulder. You try your best to lean your entire weight on it, as heavy as you can, and you shut your eyes and cross your arms to continue your nap.    Jungkook mutters how bratty you are and it only makes you smirk in satisfaction.   Eventually you’re shaken awake when you arrive at the destination five hours later and your ass is sore beyond belief. Your eyes are bleary as you try to rub them awake, squinting out the window to look at the small town covered in snow.   The white is blinding and it almost overflows into your boots.   You pull your suitcase behind you with your backpack on your back. Jungkook drags his belongings with him too. “Where to now?”   “It’s a fifteen minute walk. Think you can handle it?”   “Yeah.”   Even if it’s cold enough that your fingers are curling in on themselves and snot is dripping down your nose, it’s still better than being by yourself in your warm dorm room with nothing to do.   The town is quiet, not in an eerie fashion but serene. The houses are twinkling with strung lights, puffs coming out of chimneys, people through the windows putting up ornaments or gathering around the fire. This place is the perfect Christmas movie setting, small shops and friendly folks. You wonder if this is where Jungkook grew up.   “It’s this one.” Jungkook stops on the sidewalk suddenly. It’s house one two three at Imlings Avenue, a cozy looking home with a giant front yard and two cars on the curb. You can hear the festive music already.   As you roll your suitcase up the shoveled walkway, hearing the wheels roll, you become increasingly nervous. It’s odd — even if you and Jungkook are friends now — you’ve never met his family before. You’re a stranger to them and you’re probably unwelcome considering this is just a family affair…   “Wait.” You linger back. “Jungkook—”   But it’s too late.    He knocks before he can hear your voice. And the door swings open.   Oddly, you don’t see anyone….until you tilt your head down. There’s a little girl in a red and green plaid dress, her black hair in pigtails. She looks up at Jungkook and bats her lashes. A wide grin spreads into her chocolate stained cheeks and she throws herself onto him. “Kookie!”   There's a stampede of steps and you hear multiple voices. “Yeonjun! He’s here!”   “Oh my goodness, have you been eating well? You look so thin! We’ll change that.”   “Kookie! Kookie!”   “There’s food in the kitchen, son, go have some.”   “Or get some rest if you’re tired. There’s plenty to do, but that can get done later.”   “Okay, okay.” Jungkook laughs and turns around to see that you’re still standing outside. He quirks his head to the side. “Are you going to come in?”   What ensues is one of the most awkward moments in your life. There’s sudden silence, and then two or three sharp gasps. You manage a smile, looking down at the floor as you step into his house.    The door shuts behind you, solidifying your position here.   Your eyes flicker up. There are two kids, an older lady that resembles Jungkook but with wrinkles creased at her features, and an older man, aged like fine wine and with Jungkook’s doe eyes.   “Hi. I’m Y/N. S-Sorry for the intrusion. I really...appreciate your generosity for letting me stay.”   Jungkook smiles softly and plops his hand on your shoulder, gesturing to each person. “Mom, dad, this is Y/N. She’s my friend and, uh, classmate I told you about. Y/N, this is my grandma, my uncle, my aunt, and my two cousins, Lia and Eunbi.”   He goes over them so fast, you’re reeling.   Lia grins a toothless smile, arms politely behind her back as she sways from side to side. “I’m seven, nice to meet you.”   Eunbi, the one who opened the door, spreads her hand in front of you. “Five!”   “Nice to meet you.” You nod.   But instantaneously, your hands are taken by the old lady. Jungkook’s grandma, despite her entire head of hair being stark silver, has her irises shining with newfound energy. “It’s my pleasure, sweetheart. Please, come in. Take off your coat.”   “How long have you known Jungkook for?” his uncle suddenly asks, wearing a blazing smile as well like he knows something you don’t.   “Umm….actually, we went to high school together.”   “Really now?”   “We weren’t close though until...until recently.”   “Jungkook.” His mother shakes her head in disapproval. “You didn’t tell us your friend was a girl.”   Oh god. Now he knows what’s going on and why they’re treating you like you’re a prized possession. “It’s not like tha—”   His aunt completely jumps the gun. “How long have you been dating Jungkook for?”   You choke on air, taking your hands away from Jungkook’s grandma to pound on your chest lest you die this pathetically. Jungkook’s eyes bulge from their sockets. And Lia is old enough to understand and wrinkles her face. “Ewww, are you guys gonna end up kissing?”   “No! No.” He takes a deep breath. “Y/N is a friend. She’s just a friend.”   “I-um, sorry if there’s been a misunderstanding.” You back him up. “I’m not dating him. Frankly, I can’t handle someone like Jungkook. B-Because he’s too great,” you quickly add, not wanting to insult their son in front of their faces when they were already inviting you into their home.    It’s so awkward, you want to run outside and faceplant into the snow and die from hypothermia. “We’re just not like that. Never.”   “Yeah. She’s a classmate. A friend. Like Jimin or Taehyung.”   “O—kay then.” Jungkook’s mom breaks the tension with a warm smile. “Well, we shouldn’t dilly dally here all day! Jungkook, you can take your suitcase up to your usual room. Y/N can have the one down the hall, the guest one—oh no, dear, you don’t have to carry it.” She stops you when you grab your luggage again. “Jungkook can do it for you.”   “A-Are you sure?”   “Of course. He has to make himself useful somehow. Make yourself at home! Lia, Eunbi, want to show Y/N the stockings you made?”   “Yeah!” Lia grabs your hand, leading you away. You glance at Jungkook and he has a tight lipped smile. But the moment you turn the corner, he’s bombarded by his family members' curious stares.   “Are you sure she’s just a friend, dear?” his grandma croaks. “She’s awfully pretty.”   “Are you in the process of courting her, son?” his dad inquires. “Let me tell you, when I courted your mother, I did all sorts of things to get her to like me, so if you ever need advice—”   “You learnt how to drive a motorcycle and almost killed yourself with it,” his mother chides.   “I’m glad he didn’t.” His grandma turns around, deadpanning, “Your funeral would’ve been a terrible embarrassment to the family.”   “I remember that. You stole from me to get that motorcycle and never paid it back,” his uncle pipes up, and his dad ducks his head behind his mom.   His aunt laughs and pats his uncle’s chest. “Now, now, let’s not get ourselves worked up.” She turns, addressing the real issue in the room. “Jungkook, is Y/N really just a friend?”   “Yeah.” He stops, having ignored his family and struggled to carry the suitcases across the living room. Jungkook doesn’t know how many times he’ll have to insist his relationship with you is platonic, but out of everyone he knows his aunt is the most understanding and convincing. If she believes it, the rest will too.    “She’s just a friend. Actually, she….recently broke up with her long-term boyfriend, so…...yeah, um, and she’s my internship partner and I felt bad that she was spending Christmas by herself….”   “Well then, that’s fine. Friends are as valuable as any other kind of relationship. I think your mother and everyone else were just surprised that you brought a girl home.”   “She was going to spend Christmas by herself?” his grandma asks, surprised by the mere idea of it.   “Yeah, I think she was supposed to spend it with her boyfriend’s family but they broke up, so…”   “Well then I’m glad you invited her! No one should spend the holidays by themselves. Poor girl.”   “The more the merrier!” his uncle proclaims.   “But you still should’ve told me it was a girl,” his mother chides with her hands on her hips. “I would’ve gotten her a suitable gift!”   “Friend or not, I don’t want any shenanigans under my roof, Jungkook,” his dad warns. “You’ll both be sleeping in separate bedrooms.”   The mere idea of it has him frowning. “Of course!” Jungkook says as if it should be obvious.    He lugs his suitcase and yours up by himself while wondering what if you brought actual bricks with you.   It hasn’t even been ten minutes in this house and Jungkook already has a headache.   //   Not even an hour at the house, you and Jungkook are thrown into a truck with his dad and uncle to go buy a Christmas tree at some small market.   Your hands dug into your pockets as you walk alongside each other, finally able to get a breather.   “Sorry about them. Did they ask a lot of questions?”   “Only about my education, how old I am, what my parents do, my hobbies, if I have siblings, if I’m religious, where I grew up, and oh yeah, my plans for the next five years.”   “Sorry,” Jungkook repeats with a sigh. He knew they were overbearing but this is really something else.   You giggle. “It’s okay. Just felt like a job interview. I’m just happy they’re so welcoming. Your family’s really nice, Jungkook.”   “Yeah. Mostly. My mom can be pretty crazy. My grandma can be hysterical — same with my aunt. And my uncle and dad can be short tempered.”   “Every family has their fair share of crazy.”   “You could say that again.”   You stop to point at a tall, luscious looking tree. “That tree’s pretty nice, huh?”   “I think it’s too big for the house.”   You keep walking. “I’ve actually never gone looking for a tree like this before. Certainly not a day before Christmas Eve.”   “Really?”   “Yeah, my family usually uses artificial trees.” You smile at the memory. “Oh, Jin’s family uses a real tree. Usually it’s already decorated when I get there though—……” It takes a moment for you to realize what you’re saying. “Never mind.”   Jungkook glances at you. It falls into silence and he can see you brooding in your thoughts. He then taps your shoulder. “What do you think of that tree?”   The boy points to a small one that’s drooped over. “It’s so….sad looking.”   “Hmm, like you, right?” Jungkook laughs hard when you shove him. He catches himself before he faceplants into the snow.   “God, you should be lucky I love your family or else I would kill you.”   “As if you even could.”   “Don’t test me, Jeon.”   “Hey, kids!” His dad shouts, a few meters away. “Come help your uncle and I with this one. It’s a good one!”   Once it’s paid for, you all haul the tree into the back of the truck.    You muse that you’ve truly never done this before as you watch Jungkook’s mom screaming as all the men try to shove the tree through the front door and the tree losing nearly half of its pine needles, shedding to the carpet.    But finally they manage to get it inside without much damage done and all that’s left is to decorate. You help pull out old boxes from the cottage and Lia shows you the noodle ornament she made in class. “Look!”   You’re genuinely impressed at how intricate it is. God knows your talent was in baking and never in arts and crafts. “Wow, it’s really pretty!”   “Thanks.” She grins and you pick her up so she can slide it on at the very top.    You try to hold Eunbi too so she can put the star topper on but when your arms begin to shake with the weight of the five year old, Jungkook takes over for you. He puts her on his broad shoulders so she can lean over to do it. And you’re finally able to race Jungkook to put the rest of the ornaments up, and find out who’s the true Christmas master. But you don’t get far into the game when his grandma waddles over and starts complaining that he was bunching the candy canes too close together.   “When you kids are done with that, come outside. We’re going to put up the lights,” Jungkook’s dad says as he carries a ladder with his uncle.   Though once you’re actually outside, dressed up from head to toe in Winter gear, there’s not much you can do. You watch as Jungkook climbs the ladder while you hold the bottom rung to steady him, but his uncle ends up telling him to get down when he nearly slips off the roof.   “Imagine if you actually fell…”   The both of you looking up, squinting as you observe the old men bickering to one another about how to string the lights on. “You’d probably laugh and use my body for a ritual to summon a demon, huh?”   You turn to him, deadpanning, “How’d you know?”   What follows is snow hurled to your face and a shriek of his name. “Jeon Jungkook!”   Your body shakes with rage and you collect a snowball in your hands. But he takes cover in the backyard behind a tree, giggling boyishly like he’s four years old. “You coward! Come here!”   You chase after him at full speed, but he runs, laughing even more. You smack the back of his coat, but there’s no effect so you gather another one, patting the snow firmly to chuck it. You wish you had ice shards, so you can put it in and attack with full force.   You sprint after him before taking a leap, jumping onto his back. Unfortunately, your plan in tackling him doesn’t work. Jungkook doesn’t waver, knees not even buckling, but you adapt and slap the snowball to his face. He laughs, shaking you off and you fall onto your ass. It’s one bad thing after another considering you’re not fast enough to run away — and he chucks another one to your face.   Your aggressive shouts and Jungkook’s laughter draws the attention of the kids because they come out all bundled up in toques and scarves, cheeks overflowing above them. They march out in snow pants and thick coats, ready for battle.   “Be careful!” Jungkook’s aunt shouts from the porch before running back inside to hide from the frost.   “I wanna play! I wanna play!” Eunbi hops while Lia runs and falls back, making a giant snow angel.   “Come here, Eunbi! Come here!” Jungkook motions her over and she waddles. “We’re gonna get the evil witch!”   “Excuse me?!” you shriek and it makes the both of them giggle. You tell Lia to help you and she’s old enough to understand your instructions, making snowballs with you quickly as she laughs hysterically and tries to chuck them at Jungkook to no avail.   Lia is hit a few times by her feet, while you’re smacked straight at the neck, freezing snow melting down your shirt inside and making you cry out in agony. You try to smack Jungkook with one but then he holds Eunbi up so she can take the hit.   “Are you seriously using her as a shield?!” you scream at him.   “You gotta do whatever it takes to win!” Jungkook laughs like a maniac as his human child shield giggles along.   You’re unable to hit him at full capacity, but you get the upper hand when you tell Lia to sneak around. She shouts she’s going to the bathroom while you continue to fire light snowballs uselessly. But when the seven year old walks around the gate instead of going inside like she declared, she smacks Jungkook at the back of the head with a snowball, catching him off guard.   “Hey!”   At that moment, you rush him, trying to shovel snow down his coat. But his reflexes are too good. He lightly tosses Eunbi down on the fluffy surface and she laughs, making snow angels and Jungkook wrestles you. “I think not, witch!”   “If I’m a witch, you’re the grinch—!”   Jungkook successfully tackles you down, but you manage to rub snow all over his face, making him spaz.   In the meanwhile, his grandma, aunt and mom watch from the window, laughing hysterically. And the men up on the roof are speechless. “What are they doing?”   “You know how the youngins are.” They exchange a meaningful look, wishing they still had that same amount of energy.   //   Jungkook is a fucking lucky bastard — sometimes you can’t fathom it.   Not only does he have a great group of friends, but his family is amazing. He really has it all.   You find out his dad is an absolute airplane enthusiast, and he even shows you his aircraft collection of small planes he gathered over the years. He’s knowledgeable on all the models and tells you about a realistic flight simulator he’s planning to set up. His mother, on the other hand, can paint like a genius. The artwork in the living room that looked expensive was ones she painted and when you found out, your jaw dropped to the ground.   Everyone in his family also knows how to play chess ridiculously well and everyone seems to know how to play some kind of instrument. Jungkook’s grandma is teaching Lia piano, his aunt plays violin, his uncle is dedicated to guitar and Jungkook tells you he used to sort of dabble in drums.    You wouldn’t be surprised if he turns out to be a musical genius.    The gene pool of the Jeon family is just too strong. You can’t handle it.   And it’s no wonder he’s good in the kitchen. Everyone in his family is spectacular at cooking. You nearly start crying at dinner because of the sheer delicious taste of every dish presented in front of you. You thought you were in Heaven.   After dinner, there are games, and everyone calls it an early night to prepare for Christmas Eve the next day.   By the afternoon of the eve, the adults all leave for last minute Christmas shopping while you and Jungkook stay at home to babysit the kids.   “What are you two doing?” You approach said children when you finally snap out of the Charlie Brown Christmas special playing on the television, remembering it’s for the kids’ entertainment and not yours.   The both of them at the small table, scribbling on some paper. “We’re writing letters to Santa!”   “Oh, is that so?” You look over to see the chicken scratch. Eunbi can’t write yet so she draws pictures. “Wow, looks good. What does...this say?”   “It says cooking stuff, silly!”   “Right, silly me,” you laugh, endeared at how she wrote it as ‘Kooking’ like Jungkook’s name. “You want cooking stuff for Christmas?”   “Yeah.” Lia nods enthusiastically. “I saw on tv this oven and you get to make stuff and stuff.”   “Oh. You mean Easy Bake Oven?”   “Yeah!” Her drawing isn’t bad for a seven year old. “What do you want for Christmas?”   “Me?” You hum, considering it. “Maybe an A for my pastries class. What about you, Eunbi? What do you want Santa to give you tomorrow morning?”   “Chocolate!” she shrieks with laughter.   “She always wants chocolate,” Lia tells you listlessly.   “Candy! Cookies!”   You grin, lowering your voice like you’re about to tell them a secret. “Do you want to make cookies?”   All at once, there’s a change. Eunbi gasps. “Yeah!”   And Lia’s hand stops scribbling. “Can we really?”   You shrug. “I don’t see why not.”   It can’t be too hard.   But you’re sorely, sorely mistaken.   The moment you preheat the oven, Lia opens it and tells Eunbi to climb in — but you shut that down real quick, joke or not. When you melt the butter and turn around for one second, you come back to find Eunbi drinking the butter straight from the measuring cup.   Her lips greasy as she grins. “Yummy.”   “Oh my god—” You collect them together, keeping a reign for both kids. Calming down, you try to show them how to crack the eggs, but they’re clumsy and you end up having to fish eggshells out of the mixture.   As you’re cleaning, you hear a thump. When you whirl yourself around, the floor is coated in white. The flour bag is upside down on the ground.   “Uh-oh.” Eunbi giggles.   Lia’s hands are covered in the all-purpose flour, but she points to her younger sister. “She did it! Not me!”   You take a deep breath, mustering your patience. “It’s okay.”   But it’s not okay.   Not when they put in a cup of salt instead of sugar and you have to scoop it all out. Not when you wash their sticky fingers, clean their faces, and open drawers to look for a spatula to fold the mixture, but you hear giggles instead. Not when you slowly turn around to see them mixing the batter with their bare hands.   But with a sigh, you give in. Some of their techniques are physically painful to watch and make you cringe, but as long as they’re having fun, you’re not going to stop them.   Or at least until Eunbi sneezes straight into the batter.   “Okay, alright, let's not do that.”   “Can we eat it?”   “Eat it? You mean raw?”   Eunbi is already taking the cookie dough by the fistful. “Yummy!”   “Not too much.” You cringe as you watch them taste it. “You might get sick! Hey— Jeon Eunbi, take your hand out of the chocolate chip bag!”   The five year old grins, cherub cheeks rosy as her eyes glimmer with mischief. But after all the trials and tribulations, you finally get the tray of cookie batter into the oven.   In the meanwhile, Jeon Jungkook comes downstairs with a towel draped over his shoulder. His hair is still damp but he came down at the ruckus. He stops at the doorway of the kitchen, freezing as he regards the surroundings. “I left for one shower.”   “We made cookies, Kookie.” Lia grins with a milk moustache, sitting on the counter with her sister.   “They’re almost done,” you tell him sheepishly. “We’ll clean up soon.”   He hums as he looks at the floured floor and the sink overflowing with dishes. He wonders what happened. They’re just cookies — but it looks like a battlefield.   You approach him with a mug. “I made hot chocolate.”   “I thought chocolate was your nemesis.” Jungkook smiles, taking the cup. He notices the floating marshmallows and happily sips.   “I can melt it,” you chide. “I know how to do at least that much.”   You can hear giggles from the girls and at this point, you know it means they’re up to no good, so you turn around with your brow quirked. Jungkook is curious too and Eunbi answers the unsaid questions when she points above you both, right at the doorway.   “Mistletoe.” Lia laughs. “Eww, are you guys gonna kiss?”   You look at Jungkook, and he frowns. His expression wrinkles like he just bit into a lemon. “Gross.”   “Gross?! Excuse me?!” You loll your head to the side. “I’m gross to you?”   The boy grins. “Yeah. You are.”   “Give me back that hot chocolate.” You try to grab at it, but his reflexes are fast. Jungkook moves the mug out of the way and then above his head where it’s out of your reach.   “Nuh-uh. Finders keepers.”   “But I’m gross, aren’t I? You wouldn’t want to consume something made by a gross person.”   “I’ll make one exception.” He brings it down and quickly chugs the steaming hot chocolate.   “It’s hot, you idiot!” you shout, but like the masochist he is, he downs it all with a groan.   “Delicious.” Jungkook grins, wearing his milk moustache with pride.   You shake your head. “You’re ridiculous.”   He helps you clean and when the oven timer goes off, the scent of freshly baked cookies fill the home right in time as the adults arrive home. All twelve chocolate chip cookies are inhaled at an instant and you muse how the entire Jeon family has sweet tooths.    You share a cookie with Jungkook and it’s delicious for the disasters you had to go through.   The evening eventually settles in and they tell you about the family tradition of getting in ugly Christmas sweaters and taking a family photo. You’re touched when they show you the sweater they got, one in neon red plastered with dogs and cats in Christmas hats. Jungkook’s has batteries and physically lights up, and you can’t stop laughing.   “I feel like a tree.”   “You almost look as pretty as one, Jeon.”   It’s cute when they waddle together in front of the fireplace and you wonder what it takes to have a family like this. “What camera are you using?” you ask. “I can take it for you.”   “Oh no, dear. Don’t be silly! Come in, come in!” Jungkook’s grandma motions you over.   His uncle moves to a cabinet. “We have a tripod!”   But you hesitate. “Uh, are you sure?”   “Why wouldn’t we? If you spend Christmas with us, you’re family. Get in here!” His mother moves aside. “Stand beside Jungkook.”   Everyone shuffles, creating a perfect slot for you to join with the Jeon family. Jungkook even slings an arm over your shoulder, giving this biggest and most boyish smile of life. His uncle clicks the button and runs to his spot. The light begins to flash. “Everyone! Say cheese!”   With one snap, the moment is engrained forever.   Dinner is delicious like last night and it feels like you’re being stuffed like a pig. Your stomach nearly bursts at the seams and you would fall into a food coma if not for how Jungkook drags you along to go caroling with the rest of his family.   “I’ve never been caroling before.”   “Yeah, well, it’s something my grandma likes to do. She used to do it when she was young and she freaks out if any of us say we don’t want to go. Personally, I don’t like caroling. It feels like I’m a car salesman harassing people.”   You know what he means when he’s swaying from side to side awkwardly on some stranger’s lawn while his dad knocks on the door and everybody else waits for it to open. Jungkook looks out of place. But the minute he opens his mouth to sing Silent Night — it’s fucking angelic.    You’re shocked, like you found out the devil actually has a halo above his head.   The lady and her child thank you all for the song and while walking, Jungkook finds you staring intently at him. “What?”   “Since when did you sing?!”   “I don’t.”   “How can you say you don’t?! You literally sound like perfection.”   The sudden praise makes laughter bubble out of his throat, a cloud of condensation emitting from his parted lips. His aunt turns around with a smile. “That’s what I’ve always told him. I’m glad someone else can recognize it.”   “I remember when Jungkook was just a small boy,” his grandma pipes up. “He sang so well, knew all the lyrics, and all the neighbours were so surprised. He was so cute, even the grumpiest of grumps would be melting because of him.”   “Remember when he would start crying if he didn’t get the main part or had the harmony?”   “God, can we not talk about this?” Jungkook cringes.   But you grin. “No please, keep going. I’m so curious now.”   “Well one winter…” His mom hugs your arm, leaning into you like she’s sharing a secret. “He peed himself but didn’t want to tell anyone because he was scared caroling was going to be cut short and it ended up freezing in his pants. Poor child got a butt rash afterwards.”   “You peed yourself for caroling?” you ask incredulously.   “I don’t recall,” he deadpans.   “Oh, he used to pee himself all the time,” Jungkook’s dad clarifies. “There was an incident on a plane—”   “That’s enough of that.” He puts a hand on your shoulder and pushes you forward at a fast pace. You laugh as the two of you walk way ahead of the rest of his family and how Lia and Eunbi begin to sing-song that Kookie’s a bed wetter.   Despite being out in the cold at night, you didn’t know your Christmas would end up so warm, surrounded by people who treat you as one of their own. You feel lucky. Privileged to be part of it.   The rest of Christmas Eve is spent around a fire and the tree until it’s lights out at nine. It’s early again since the adults know that the kids will end up making it an early morning the next day. So with cookies and milk left out, you bid your goodnights. But their predictions end up exactly as said after many years of celebrating the gift-giving holiday together.   Right at five thirty with the sun barely risen, you’re shaken away by Jungkook.   “What’s going on?”   Your bleary eyes blink and you rub at them. Jungkook’s tender grin and sparkling eyes are the first thing your vision focuses on. His hair shags over his forehead as he stares down at you. “Get up, sleepyhead. We’re all opening presents.”   “It’s so early,” you whine, but he tugs the covers off anyhow and helps you stand on your feet.   Jungkook ruffles your bed head. “I know.”   The two of you make your way downstairs. The adults are already hugging their coffee cups while Lia and Eunbi tear up their gifts that Santa left them. Christmas melodies are turned on for background noise, and there are hugs and gasps given during the exchange of presents.    You’re given one too.   “For me?”   “Yes, we managed to pick up something yesterday for you, dear. If Jungkook had told us beforehand he was bringing such a nice friend, we would’ve gotten something better.”   You open up the box to find a red, wool scarf. The texture is soft and it looks warm enough to protect you from the cold Winter wind. You’re touched beyond belief. “T-Thank you, I love it.”   “We’re glad.”   “I-I’m sorry I didn’t get you anything.”   “Please, your presence is more than enough, sweetheart.”   “I got this for you, Y/N!” Lia comes over with a piece of paper. “Eunbi and I drew it yesterday, well I did most of the work, but she drew you. Thanks for spending Christmas with us!”   “I love it. Thank you.”   Jungkook watches with a gooey smile. It’s good to see you like this — for once not moping around or crying after some guy that didn’t know your worth anyway. But what he catches him off guard further is when he’s tugged away into the hall by you.   Your arm extends, holding a bag haphazardly.   “Sorry, I forgot to wrap it,” you mutter, barely coherently. Your vision is diverted elsewhere, looking towards the ceiling so you can spare yourself the embarrassment of how he’ll react.   But if you looked, you’d see that Jungkook’s grin could almost break his face. He takes it. “Isn’t this the souvenir you got at the rest stop?”   “Well, I lied. It’s not a souvenir. Open it.”   He does. Quickly. With much anticipation.   You lean over to watch him.   Inside the bag is a box. Jungkook tears it open to find a simple, white mug. But across the surface in black text, it’s written ‘Jungkook — World’s Best Chocolatier’.    “I found an engraving place. Took ten minutes. It’s nothing. But see? I can be thoughtful. Sometimes…”   You pause. There’s silence so you look at him to gauge his reaction. His face is blank, hard to read. Damn. You had second thoughts in the moment but you didn’t think he would hate it this muc—   Suddenly, you’re being hugged.   Jungkook has his arms wrapped around your shoulders, and he pushes you into his chest. “I fucking love it, you witch.”   You smile, a rush of air leaving your nose. “Glad you like it, grinch.”   He muses that you’re the most softhearted witch on the planet.   Jungkook can’t yet pinpoint the reason why, but he knows without a doubt that this is the warmest Christmas he’s had.

[outlawsworld]

Trusting Strangers - Chapter 12

Arthur Morgan x Female reader

Summary: Reader and Arthur's relationship in now not so secret. She spends one on one time with Dutch and also some alone time with Arthur.

Warning: robbing, mentions of smut but nothing too bad!

Notes: sorry it's taken me so long with this chapter. I've taken a bit of time off over Christmas. Please let me know what you think....can't wait to write the next chapter after this ending 🤤

You can also read my work on my ao3 account Outlaws_world !!

Chapter 1

--

You had been tossing and turning all night. Each time you were drifting off back to sleep your memories reminded you of the events of last night. As it started to get lighter outside you decided to go check on Dallas. Sleep wasn't coming easy and you decided to make yourself useful instead of just laying in your tent. The cut around Dallas' limb had started to scab over and there was no sign of infection. You reapplied some of the herbs that Charles had given you and fed the horses. It must have been early as everyone was still fast asleep in camp and the morning birds had only just started chirping in the trees. You made yourself a coffee and stood at the end of the dock looking out over the lake. The sun was rising over the hills which filled the sky with a burnt orange. You took in a deep breath which filled your lungs with the freshness of the air before taking a sip from your coffee. There were a couple of birds floating on the water and you watched as they sat there, still and silent. You were so lost in focusing on the stillness of the morning that you didn't hear the footsteps behind you.

''Mornin' Miss (Y/L/N)'' you spun round quickly to see Dutch had walked up behind you. He was smoking on a cigar and smiling at you.

''Mornin' Dutch'' you spoke hesitantly after you caught your breath.

''Sorry dear, I didn't mean to frighten you'' he smirked. Even though it was first thing in the morning, Dutch didn't have a hair out of place and he dressed so smartly. You must have looked scruffy in comparison as you had the same clothes on from yesterday and hadn't combed your hair yet. He came to stand next to you as you both looked over the water. ''You alright after last night?'' he questioned, not taking his eyes away from the view.

''Yeah'' you paused. ''I didn't mean for it to escalate the way it did'' you tried to defend yourself. Dutch sighed as he looked at you.

''It ain't your fault Miss (Y/L/N)'' his voice was hushed as the camp was starting to stir behind you. ''Arthur has taken quite a shine to you. I realise you two seem to be gettin' on rather well'' he scanned your face waiting for your reaction. You continued to look out over the lake hoping that he would avert his gaze. ''I hope this ain't gonna be a problem''. You look at him slightly taken aback by what he had just said.

''I don't know what you mean?'' you question, looking directly into his gaze now.

''You have settled in well here (Y/N). You have also pulled your weight and done well on jobs'' he paused taking a drag from his cigar and blowing it out over the lake. ''I want to see this for myself. What are you doing today?’’ he questioned ignoring your confusion.

‘’I was going to see about those horses with John this mornin’.’’ You scanned the camp trying to find him.

‘’That can wait’’ he protested. ‘’ Ride with me to Rhodes. I’ll let you get on with your morning chores and then come find me’’ he eyed you up and down before adding ‘’ I’ll inform John of the change of plan, the horses can wait for tomorrow’’.

''Of course Dutch'' you said shyly. He patted you on the shoulder before walking back into camp and leaving you standing on the dock by yourself.

You thought about Dutch's words as you sipped on the rest of your coffee. Gaining Dutch's trust was a hard task when you first joined the gang and the last thing you wanted was to jeopardise that. You hoped that your time spent with him would allow you to finally prove your full worth to him. ‘I hope this ain’t gonna be a problem’, what did he mean by that? There was a slight nervous feeling in the pit of your stomach as you thought he might not approve of your relationship with Arthur. Was that what this trip to Rhodes was going to be about? 

You tried to ignore the feeling as you made your way back into camp. Most people had started to stir and were getting on with their chores. Although you knew Dutch would let John know about the change of plan, you wanted to tell John yourself and to clear the air from last night. When you couldn’t find him anywhere around camp you made your way over to the dirty dishes and began cleaning. You had only just gotten settled into your work when Tilly and Karen both decided to settle down next to you. As you glanced up, you saw the huge grins plastered across their faces and automatically rolled your eyes.

''Awwh come on now, don't be like that'' Karen giggled. You looked into the wash bucked and concentrated on the dish in your hand. Trying to block out the eager girls stares.

''You can't hide from us in a pile of dirty dishes, ya know'' Tilly smirked at you. You looked up and sighed. She was right, no matter what you did, you couldn't avoid them forever. ''You gonna tell us then?''.

''Tell you what?'' you smirked.

''Don't play dumb. Tell us about what happened last night'' Karen scoffed. She sat next to you with a ripped shirt in hand as she tried to sew the seam back together.

''With Micah?'' you questioned.

''No you idiot. With Arthur'' Karen tutted. ''He was clearly protective over ya, never seen him so riled up. Micah must have struck a nerve talkin' bout you like that'' she giggled as she spoke. You knew that being cooped up in the camp all day can be boring, so the girls lived for any gossip or drama. You shook your head and sighed looking over to see Arthur was sat on his cot writing something in his journal. He looked so fixated on what he was jotting down, you couldn’t help but wish he was by your side right now to answer the questions that were being thrown at you.

''Would you just leave the poor girl alone'' Sadie interrupted, she was standing over the three of you with her hands on her hips.

''We were only asking'' Tilly spoke shyly.

''Yeah, well I'm tellin'. Can't you see she has enough to do without you two at her'' she gestured for the two girls to move which they did with a grunt and a couple wise remarks. Sadie came to sit beside you and grabbed a dish to clean. ''Told you they would find out'' she giggled. You couldn't help but smirk at her comment but you stayed silent. The two of you continued to wash the dishes. Your eyes scanned the camp to try find John but instead landed on Arthur walking towards you.

''Mornin' Ladies'' he tipped his hat to the both of you.

''Arthur'' Sadie greeted him as she carried on scrubbing one of the dishes.

‘’(Y/N), can I have a word?’’ his voice was hushed as if to try and not draw too much attention to us. You glanced at Sadie who gave you an approving nod before you dried your hands on your trousers and stood up to follow Arthur. The giggling coming from the other girls behind you were more then obvious, but you ignored them. You followed Arthur back towards the dock where you had been standing not too long ago.

‘’You alright?’’ Arthur asked as you reached the dock. He placed a hand softly on your lower arm, almost taking your hand whilst looking straight into your eyes. His touch suddenly warmed your whole body and your cheeks flushed red. You were slightly embarrassed to how easily this man could change your whole mood with a simple touch. His bright blue eyes were unavoidable, you could see the corner of his mouth was upturned as he looked at you which only made your heart race faster.

‘’I am now’’ you smiled up at him. He smiled sweetly back at you as he intertwined his fingers in yours. Quickly, you glanced back towards the camp to see if anyone was watching. Before you could let go of his hand and pull away, Arthur’s free hand reached your cheek to move your face back to focus on him.

‘’Cat’s outta the bag (Y/N)’’ he smirked at your panicked reaction. ‘’I guess I’m to blame for that’’ his hand cupped your cheek still as he looked from your eyes to your lips. He was right, everyone in camp knew by now that something was going on. There was no point in hiding it. ‘’I just wanted to make sure that you were alright with it all?’’ he lowered his voice slightly as you dropped your eyes to look down at the floor.

You wanted to say how much you hated that people were already trying to know all your business, you hated that the attention was focused on the two of you because you were the biggest news in camp. Being on your own for so long you had gotten used to no one paying you any attention and you liked it that way, you never had to explain yourself to anyone. The words couldn’t form in your mouth and as you looked back up to meet Arthur’s eyes all of your worries seemed to fade away. If the whole camp knowing meant that the both of you could stop sneaking around and be together then you didn’t seem to care. All that mattered to you was Arthur.

‘’I’m alright. Though you owe me’’ you smirked at him. ‘’You don’t have to deal with the girls wanting to know every detail’’. Arthur laughed shyly as he pulled you closer to him. He leaned down and kissed you softly. It didn’t feel like your previous kisses, you were very aware that anyone could be watching but it felt more meaningful somehow. You didn’t have to hide your affection for one another. You felt a warm feeling at the fact that Arthur was happy for the camp to know about his feeling towards you.

‘’How about I take you outta camp for the night?’’ Arthur smiled leaning his forehead against yours.

‘’Deal’’ you smiled before placing a soft kiss on his cheek. The two of you slowly made your way back into camp before Mrs Grimshaw came over to tell you both to stop slacking. As you walked into the heart of camp you noticed everyone’s attention was on the both of you and you could feel a hot flush run through your body.

‘’I better finish my chores’’ you gestured back towards Sadie who was still busy washing dishes. Arthur smiled before leaning down and kissing your cheek in front of the whole camp. The gesture produced a gasp and whispers that could be heard from the girls who were watching the both of you. You bit your lip and your cheeks flushed once more before heading back towards Sadie. You sat down next to her and continued with your work, you couldn’t help the smile that graced your face.

‘’I hope you know that I can’t save you from the oncomin’ questions now’’ Sadie giggled. It was as if the other girls had heard Sadie’s comment because almost instantly they had all gathered round you.

‘’When did it happen?’’

‘’Is he a good kisser?’’

‘’Is he romantic?’’

Their questions came thick and fast and you did your best at answering as Sadie sat smirking at you. You must have looked like a rabbit when face to face with a cougar as the questions piled in. Once you washed the last dish you stood up and held your hands up in surrender.

‘’Alright, alright. Enough questions for one day’’ the girls all sighed with the loss of excitement. ‘’I’ll see y'all later’’ you took no time in waiting for their response as you strode across camp to find Dutch. As you crossed camp you scanned it to see if John had made an appearance. He was still nowhere to be seen so you shrugged it off. Dutch was sat in his tent reading one of his novels when you approached him.

‘’Ahh (Y/N)’’ he closed the book as he saw you stood in the opening of his tent. ‘’You ready to go?’’.

‘’Yeah’’ you nodded as he put his book down on his cot and gestured for you to lead the way to the horses. Dallas favouring his leg still so you took one of the spare horses for the day. You both mounted up and you followed closely behind Dutch as he led the way out of camp and onto the main road to town. The both of you rode in silence which only made you more nervous. Dutch had always been kind to you and impressed with your work but you had never had to prove yourself to him before or spent any time with him alone. Luckily Rhodes wasn’t too far from camp and you both hitched your horses outside of the saloon before making your way inside. Dutch ordered you both a beer and you took a seat at a free table in the corner of the room. The saloon was quiet as it was only midday but there was a piano player which filled the empty atmosphere.

‘’So, I want to see first hand what you can do Miss’’ Dutch broke the silence as you took a sip from your beer. ‘’I’ve heard a lot of great things but never seen it for myself’’ he smirked at you before joining you in a drink. You didn’t exactly know what Dutch was expecting. All the jobs that you have done for the gang had been planned by someone else and you just did as you were told.

‘’What’s the plan?’’ you asked, slightly confused.

‘’No plan’’ Dutch raised his eyebrows. ‘’Just do what you do best’’ he leant back in his chair with his arms folded over his chest, expecting to watch a show. You took a deep breath and glanced around the bar trying to find a target. Rhodes wasn’t too far away from the city of Saint Denis which meant many rich folk passed through regularly. You spotted a couple of men sat at the bar, both well dressed and merrily drinking. They looked like they were celebrating something as they toasted to one another’s success. You quickly gulped the rest of your drink before giving Dutch a nod in their direction. Dutch glanced over at the two men and the corner of his mouth tugged upwards in a mischievous smile before he nodded at you. You straightened out your clothing and fixed your hair before making your way over to the bar to stand next to the two men.

You gestured for the bartender before ordering another beer. Once, you had been served your drink you stood, leaning on the bar in a way that would attract a man’s eye to the curve of your bum. One of the men took the bait straight away and turned his attention to you as you began to drink your beer.

‘’What is a beautiful woman such as yourself doing in a town like this?’’ he leaned towards you. His breath stank of alcohol and his eyes were slightly glazed over indicating he was a lot more drunk then you had first thought.

‘’Just passin’ through’’ you smiled sweetly placing a hand on his forearm. ‘’How about yourself?’’. Before you knew it, you were standing in between the two men drinking your beer and creating convocation. They both had closed some sort of business deal that you paid no interest too and were celebrating. You hummed along whilst congratulating them. They were both quite young, handsome men so you acted as though you were falling for their charms. After your second beer that they had bought you, you decided to take your leave and go back to Dutch. Both the men were slightly disappointed that you were leaving however, they let you go without any complaints.

‘’I think it’s best we leave now’’ you smiled at Dutch who sat watching you with a confused expression. He didn’t question you and followed you out of the saloon and to your horses.

‘’(Y/N), I think you missed the point of this trip’’ he finally turned to you before you mounted your horse. You grinned at him, before he could say another word you produced 2 watches, $20, a golden ring, a packet of cigarettes and what seemed to be an engagement ring from your pockets. You placed all the items in Dutch’s hand.

‘’Pretty sure we can sell this stuff at the general store. Plus, I found out that they have a bunch of deeds back at their house which isn’t too far from here. Turns out they will both be out of town on business next week. Might be worth a look’’ you smirked feeling pretty pleased with yourself.

‘’Well I must say, I am impressed’’ Dutch nodded at you, you couldn't help but hear the slight shock in his voice. This only made you more smug about doing a good job. ‘’Let’s go see what we can get for these’’ Dutch chuckled as he stuffed the items into his pockets. The both of you mounted up and began to head to the main street. As you were riding down the street you passed by Hosea and Arthur. They were on their way to the saloon with a wagon full of moonshine. Hosea had dressed Arthur up in a hat and a pipe sticking out of his mouth and you couldn’t help but giggle at the sight. They both tipped their hats to you as you passed one another but no words were exchanged. Arthur rolled his eyes as he saw the amusement on both yours and Dutch's faces.

"He's never been one for playing dress up" Dutch remarked. "No doubt we will get an earful later" he bellowed whilst laughing.

Dutch and yourself entered the general store and sold the items for $40 altogether. He decided to buy you a broach of a horse’s head cast in bronze that you had taken a shine too. You thanked him on the way out before pinning the broach to your shirt. The two of you began your journey back to camp ignoring the noises coming from the saloon. Clearly whatever Hosea and Arthur was up to was working in their favour.

‘’Good work today Miss (Y/L/N)’’ he smiled at you as you rode side by side. ‘’I’m glad we found you’’. This made you light up. You knew Dutch was hard to please and to hear him say these things only made you feel more at home in the gang. Although, you couldn't help but think of your convocation that you had by the dock that morning. You hadn't spoken about your relationship with Arthur this whole trip, which you originally though that's what this was about.

‘’Thanks Dutch’’ you smiled at him. ‘’Can I ask you a question?’’ he nodded at you to continue. You cleared your throat and gathered up the courage before speaking up. ‘’Earlier, you said that you hope that me and Arthur don’t become a problem, what did you mean?’’ you asked so shyly that you thought he might not have even been able to hear you. You heard him take a deep breath in as you looked at the road in front of you, avoiding his gaze. The silence was deafening, the only sound was your heart racing as Dutch thought about your question.

‘’I meant no offence’’ he cleared his throat before carrying on. ‘’Things like relationships can be a hard thing with the way we live. They can get in the way and distract us from our responsibilities. As long as you know the gang comes above anything else, it shouldn’t be a problem. Keep up the hard work’’ Dutch scanned your face for your reaction. You looked up to catch his gaze before nodding. "And Miss (Y/L/N), I won't tolerate any more fighting in camp" he warned looking straight into you.

‘’I understand. It won’t get in the way’’ you promised Dutch. Although you knew he meant well you couldn’t help but feel he thought you might take Arthur away from his work or even the gang. You had no intension of doing so as you knew how much the gang meant to him, and how much it was starting to mean to you as well. It was like a family, one that you have been needing for so long.

Once you were back in camp Dutch left you to tend to the horses. You brushed the borrowed horse and the Count before feeding them some carrots as a treat. It wasn’t long before the sun began to set on another day and you helped yourself to some of Pearson’s stew. Lenny came to keep you company and sat on the log next to you by the fire. It was nice to talk to someone who wasn't interested enough to ask about your and Arthur's relationship. Lenny was the youngest in the gang but he talked as though he was the oldest. He was incredibly smart and always good company.

‘’You seen John today?’’ you asked as you scanned the camp still unable to locate John.

‘’Yeah, he has been on guard most of the day, didn’t want anyone to relieve him of his post’’ Lenny shrugged. You turned your nose up at the thought of John wanting to be on guard all day. He hated that job, he always complained that it was boring. Maybe something had happened between him and Abigail which made him want to be by himself for a while. You were about to go and check on him when you saw Arthur ride back into camp. He dismounted Siego and marched over to speak to Dutch and Micah. You and Lenny both tried to overhear their conversation without any luck. Whatever they were taking about, you could tell Arthur wasn't too pleased about it. You turned your attention back to the remainders of your stew and scraped the bowl clean.

‘’Ma’am’’ Arthur drew your attention from your bowl. He held his hand out for you to take which you did gladly. He pulled you onto your feet before taking your bowl from you and placing it in the wash tub. ‘’You ready to go?’’ he questioned, his tone was slightly irritated still by his convocation with Dutch. You had completely forgotten about going out of camp with Arthur tonight but you nodded to not irritate him further. You said your goodbyes to Lenny before grabbing a couple of spare clothes from your tent and meeting Arthur by the horses.

You rode together back into Rhodes. Arthur remained quiet for the ride, you could tell something had angered him but you didn’t want to pry just yet. Instead you decided to let him calm down. Arthur led you up to the Rhodes hotel, you glanced at him slightly shocked. You had expected to go back to the open field that you had slept the other night. You followed sheepishly behind him, trying to remember the last time you had slept in a real bed. Arthur paid for a room and for a bath each before grabbing the key and guiding you to the room.

The room was spacious, with a double bed in the middle of the back wall and a wardrobe to the side. There was a draw at each bedside with a lantern placed on each one. As it was already dark outside so the room was slightly dim lit but that didn't faze you. You gingerly walked around the room and placed your things to one side. As you passed each draw, you automatically searched through them to see if there were any leftover belongings.

‘’We ain’t robbin’ the place’’ Arthur smirked as he watched you open and close all the empty draws.

‘’I know’’ you giggled slightly embarrassed. ‘’I don’t remember the last time I stayed inside that’s all’’ you felt the softness of the bed and took a deep breath in.

‘’Well we needed to get away from camp. Thought this would be better then a cold night outside" he watched you with a smile.

"You alright?" you finally asked. "Ya seem irritated".

"Nahh it's just Micah. Thinks it's a good idea to rob both the Grey's and the Braithwight's" he shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I don't think it's the best idea but Dutch seems to take his side" he placed his things in the same pile as yours before walking over to you and placing both his hands on your waist. You place your arms around his neck and pull him close to you for a full enbrace.

"Doesn't seem smart but I'm sure Dutch knows what he's doin'." You tried to reassure him. The truth was you thought it was dumb too. It was a small town and people talk, even with a family feud they would still know it was us that robbed from them. You let go of him just enough so that you could see his face. His jaw was tense and his eyes were looking over your shoulder, deep in thought. You place your hand on his cheek to bring his eyes round to focus back on you, just like he had done earlier. His jaw relaxed as his eyes met yours. You kissed him gently, you could feel his whole body relax when your lips met. He wrapped his arms tighter around you, as if not wanting to ever let you go. You broke the kiss and smiled up at him.

"I'm sorry, let's not talk about the gang tonight" he smirked. ‘’Why don’t ya go get a bath, I’ll get mine after’’. You nodded at him before grabbing some clothes and walking out of your room and down the hall to the bath.

You submerged yourself in the warm water hesitantly. The water felt lovely against your skin, better then washing yourself in the cold lake. You took your time in scrubbing your body head to toe, using the soap provided. It smelt of lavender and filled the room with it’s relaxing scent. Once you had finished you sat in the bath for a couple moments, embracing the last of the warm water before climbing out and drying yourself. You pulled on the clean clothes you had packed before tip toeing your way back to the room. When you walked back in you were surprised to find Arthur was not there. He must have gone to the second bathroom that you had noticed. You perched on the edge of the bed, feeling it dip from your weight. It was so soft and you couldn't wait to have a comfy night sleep. You sat there for a while before deciding to get ready for bed, it was getting late and you were begining to tire. As you rummaged through your things you realised you had forgotten your nightwear. You rolled your eyes and breathed out an irritated sigh at your forgetfulness. Instead you decided to slip on Arthur's shirt that he had given you weeks ago on your hunting trip and remove your trousers. Once, to were comfortable you climbed onto the bed laying down with your head placed on the plump pillow.

There was a knock at the door before Arthur crept back inside the room. He closed the door behind himself before finally letting his eyes find you. His mouth dropped slightly before he took a large gulp finding you in this slight state of undress. The shirt you had borrowed fell down to the middle of your thighs but both your legs were on show to him. You sat up slightly leaning on both elbows and you let yourself look over him. He was standing at the door with just his jeans on, his suspenders left to hang by his legs. You couldn’t help but gaze over him, his upper body was toned with hair gracing his chest leading a path down his stomach into his jeans. The both of you were silent as you allowed yourself to explore with your eyes. Your heart was racing in your chest and a new warm feeling began aching between your legs. You had both seen each other like this when you spent the night away from camp hunting but at that point you avoided looking over each other. This time you both welcomed each other to look. You could feel your heart begining to race as you felt his eyes wonder down your body.

‘’I wondered where my shirt had gotten too’’ Arthur said in a low tone as he slowly made his way over to you. His voice seemed to vibrate through you, making the ache between your legs worsen. This feeling was foreign to you and you began to think something was wrong with you.

‘’I may have forgotten to give it back’’ you admitted shyly, watching every step he made towards you. His shoulders were broad leading to his muscled arms that you longed to warp around you. You couldn't hide the slight shaking in your breath as he got closer. Arthur slowly sat down on the bed beside you and licked his lips. Your chest felt like it was going to burst open as he rested a hand on the bare skin of your leg, just below your knee. The sensation of just his touch sent shivers throught your body. The heat between your legs was intensifying with every passing moment and a knot in the bottom of your stomach started to grow. You slowly looked over his body and back up to meet his striking blue eyes. He didn't shy his gaze away once you met his. There was a look on his face you had never seen before. It was hungry but weary at the same time. You suddenly had a growing awareness of your need for him. You needed him to kiss you. You needed him to touch you and you needed him to relieve this unfamiliar burning feeling between your legs.

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Chapter 13

@kashasenpai