#i think christmas deserves to last a little longer than anticipated after that one hell of a 2022

[ask-the-invincible-crew]

hi guys! this week's updates are gonna come a little slow bc my this week, stuff at my job has been a bit more hectic than i anticipated, so we might be in a christmassy mood for th next few days but i reassure you that this mistledrone arc is finishing soon! a few more asks to finish and then we'll go back to your regularly scheduled asks

[s-n-a-k-e-p-i-t]

simple questions / draco x hermione

A/N: coming @ you with some more dramione things that just live in my head rent free until they get moved to tumblr rent free

Warnings: mention of alcohol

Premise: After getting his task from Voldemort, Draco is coming to terms with the fact that once he kills Dumbledore, his life will no longer be his own. Overwhelmed with feelings he decides to do one last thing for himself.

Word count: 2k ish

- - - - - -

It was ridiculous, really, for him to be be so concerned with trivial things, the Christmas ball no doubt. But, he supposed it was a part of his acceptance. Acceptance that after this year his life would never be the same. That from that point forward he would either live forever in fear or be forever feared by others, and if he was being perfectly honest with himself, neither of those lifestyles appealed to him much at all. 

He had never really wanted people to fear him, it was just easier that way. Love was complicated, but fear, oh fear was very simple and it had served him for the time being. But the fear he was used to had always been instigated by a couple of harsh words he didn’t really mean or maybe a scowl, and the new fear he would come to be controlled by would follow murder...

He’d have to take life from another human being... when he’d never even squished a bug. 

And so he sat, alone in the Slytherin common room while everyone else was at dinner, thinking about all the things he could do while his life was still his, before he’d have to murder dear ol’ Dumbledore, and his path would change forever. 

He scoffed. Tad dramatic. 

He knew he’d still have his friends after carrying out his task. After all, most of their parents were Death Eaters. One life taken by him was nothing compared to what their parents had all done. They'd be hesitant at first, but eventually would come around, especially once they took their Marks. 

A face flashed behind his eyelids and he pinched the bridge of his nose. A sinking feeling filled his stomach and he took a deep breath. That face would surely never come around, not that she thought much of him to begin with. No, he’d definitely never come back from this one with her. These last few months were all he had left with her, better make the most of it. 

She had always intrigued him and he had found it hard to ignore her. She was smart, sharp, and she challenged him in ways no one else really had the guts for. They were similar in many ways and he had come to find that he actually really enjoyed being around her. And though she had what his father had always referred to as, “dirty blood” he had found himself caring less and less about it over the past six years of knowing her. He’d even stopped using that awful word their second year after seeing how upset it had made her. He had always wondered that if things were different, if they would’ve stood a chance. And now, with this given assignment, he was sure they never would. 

His stare bored into the fire as the gears in his mind continued to turn. The reflection of the flames danced on his face and he pressed his knuckles against his lips. He took a deep breath in and a deep breath out and made a decision. “Now or never,” he breathed. And with that he stood up rather quickly, and slipped into the corridor to make his way to the Great Hall. 

- - - - - - -

Hermione had just said goodnight to Harry and Ron, who were turning in early in preparation for tomorrow’s quidditch match. Tired, but not quite ready for bed, she had decided to hang back at dinner. Ginny and Neville were carrying on a friendly, but heated debate, but even they eventually wore each other out and retired for the evening. Hermione stood to leave with them, but as they exited the Great Hall, she stopped and turned to the courtyard. It was a clear night and she enjoyed catching constellations when she got a chance. 

Draco rounded the corner, managing to keep his pace calm and his appearance normal despite the fact his nerves were eating him alive. As he made his way towards the Great Hall, assuming she’d still be at the table talking with her glued-at-the-hip companions, a slight movement caught his eye. There she was, looking up at the night sky and completely oblivious to him approaching. He swallowed hard, his nerves threatening to suffocate him.

“Granger,” he whispered. No response. She was completely mesmerized. He inched closer, as quiet as possible as to not scare her. 

“Granger!” 

She yelped, clearly startled and he instantly felt a twinge of guilt for freaking her out that badly. When she regained her composure, she raised a skeptical eyebrow to him. 

“What do you want, Malfoy?” She asked, her voice almost tired of having to ask that question. 

He licked his lips. His adrenaline had gotten him to her, but he still hadn’t quite planned out what exactly he was going to say. He opened and closed his mouth. He suddenly felt extremely foolish for thinking she would actually say yes to him.

“Right,” she sighed, “Well, when you think of whatever insult you want to throw my way, you know where to find me.”

She took a step, in an attempt to walk around him, but he moved to his right, blocking her path. He looked down into her eyes, feeling her breath hit his face. They were closer than they’d ever been and she was not having it. 

“Malfoy, seriously,” she said through gritted teeth. 

“Granger, please, just-” he stammered.

She took a step back and he immediately felt the absence of her presence. She crossed her arms across her chest, waiting for him to get to the point. 

“I know I haven’t been the nicest guy in the world-”

Hermione laughed. Out loud. In fact, it echoed off the stone surrounding them. The sound completely engulfed him. He closed his eyes and waited for her to be done. He deserved it and he knew it.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, but are you trying to apologize to me? Has Hell frozen over? Are you ill?”

His hands balled to fists. “If you’d let me finish, you’d know what I was trying to say,” he clipped back. 

The amusement in her eyes returned, “Right of course, carry on.” She was mocking him. 

“Granger. I know this sounds ridiculous, believe me, I'm surprised too..” he took a step towards her. “..but, the truth is, you have always interested me.”

Hermione sucked in a breath. That was not what she had been expecting to hear.

“You challenge me in skill, you actually stand up to me when I’m, well, myself and well you’re, um,” he struggled to find the words, ”actually not too hard on the eyes either.” 

Neither was he. She banished the thought almost immediately.

“Gee, thanks, Malfoy. Can I go to bed now?” 

He rolled his eyes. “Granger, please just listen to me.” 

“Let me think about it,” she said, tapping her chin three times before replying with a short, “No.” And then she went to step around him again and he went to block her again, grabbing her wrist. Her eyes met his, they held the gaze, neither one of them daring to back down. When he blinked, she use the excuse to sweep her eyes over his face, noticing how his jawbone stood out more than usual and his eyes seemed to ache for the comfort of sleep. He slowly let go of his hold on her. Maybe he was falling ill.

“Granger. Look everything is going to hell, I’m just hoping for a glimpse of heaven, before you-you,” his voice faltered, “Before you hate me forever.”

She laughed under her breathe and muttered, “Little late for that.” And then louder, “Now if you’ll excuse me, as much as I’d like to pretend you haven’t chugged a flask of fire whiskey and there’s actually a point to this conversation, I’m going to bed.” 

She saw the hurt flash in his eyes and decided to use that to her advantage.  This time when she stepped around him, he didn’t block her. He was grasping at straws. Admitting feelings? Not something his father had prepared him for. Asking a long time enemy to a ball? Not covered in Bellatrix’s teachings. 

“Look, Gra- Hermione please just hear me out,” he tried one more time. 

She heard her first name and turned swiftly around. Curiosity danced in her eyes as she took in the sight of him. Vulnerable, pleading, honest...? She almost didn’t recognize the boy in front of her, almost. Luckily, over the past few years, she had seen this version of him a handful of times. Times when his mask slipped and she saw who the real Draco Malfoy was. Not the hard outer shell reinforced by Lucius time and time again, but someone who overcame a great deal of expectations and was tired of playing the part. She would never admit it out loud, but had he been like that all the time, she believed they could’ve been, at the very least, friendly. Her curiosity had the best of her. “What?”

He closed his eyes, another deep breath. She watched him carefully, her walls coming down, but still guarded. His eyes betrayed his normally calm demeanor. She stood, anxious in anticipation.

“Will you go to the Christmas ball with me?” He hadn’t meant to say the words so fast, but his nerves had gotten the best of him. He felt his cheeks immediately heat up, his heartbeat roaring in his ears.

The words hung in the air between them. She certainly hadn’t expected him to say that. Hermione didn’t even realize her mouth had fallen open, shock written all over her face. She shook her head, as if to gather her thoughts and then took a step towards him. 

The silence was painful for Draco. His eyes remained glued to her every move as she scanned the courtyard. 

“Please?” He added with a shrug, his voice small, sounding very not like himself at all. 

Her face changed suddenly, and she spoke. “Look Malfoy, I don’t know what kind of sick joke this is, but I refuse to be the punchline.” 

His face twisted into confusion, hurt littering his features, “No, that’s not what-”

“Ha ha! So funny! Go ahead run back to report to your little friends and collect your winnings.” She fought hard to keep her voice steady, but her emotions were threatening to break out. She was embarrassed not just from what he had asked her, but for what admiring him just moments before. She threw her walls back up. 

“Granger, please, I just, let me prove it to you, just listen-”

“No, you listen. If this is seriously your idea of entertainment, count me out. I’ve heard enough from you and I will not continue to put up with this garbage. I refuse to play along with this stupid little act. Now if you don’t mind, I really will be going now.”

She stalked away and he let her go, watching her disappear into the darkness of the castle. 

When he was finally alone, he let out a big sigh. Perhaps he deserved this, no scratch that, he knew he did. He felt incredibly stupid thinking she would ever even entertain the idea of agreeing to go with him. He hadn’t even stopped to think about how she would take it. And now she had seen him like this. He’d really dug quite the hole for himself. 

The bells rang out on the hour and he headed back in. As he made his way towards the edge of the courtyard, he noticed a rose bush. The flowers seemed to have a soft glow under the moon and starlight. He cut a few off of the bush with his wand and stuffed them in his robes before retiring into the castle for the night. 

- - - - - - -

She laid in bed that night, tossing and turning. Sleep would not come easily. Had that really happened? Had Draco Malfoy asked her to an event? As his date? She thought of his face, giving way to his real personality. Who he was without his gang of friends, without his father, without his tyrannical leader. She had always thought he had a nice face. And though she could go without the douche personality, she did enjoy his mind as well, how he too seemed to know all the answers and how, without fail, he always managed to be the one to finish her sentences in classes. She remembered glances they’d shared, off character things he had said, and a smile she’d managed to catch a few times over the past few years. 

She thought about it all night. 

- - - -

The light peaked through her window, slowly stirring her from her deep, dreamless sleep. No one else in the room had woken up yet and so she decided to head out early and get a jump start on some reading. She threw on her uniform and quietly made her way down into the common room. 

As she sat on the couch, a new object at one of the tables caught her attention. Timidly, she tiptoed over to the table to find a single rose laying on the warm wooden surface. A small piece of parchment was attached. She picked it up, inspecting it closely, blinking several times to ensure she was in fact, not dreaming.

Just let me prove it to you. 

-DM

She put the rose into her bag, careful not to scrunch it up and sighed before exiting the common room in pursuit of the library. 

[arcticfox007]

Somewhere to Belong

Bonus! I’m posting this next segment faster than I anticipated because I was really excited about writing it <3

Destiel December Challenge 2020

Day 14: Hot Cocoa

This is a continuation of previous days in the challenge, you can find them on my masterpost or on AO3. Day 15 will technically wrap up the story but depending on how long it goes I may also do an epilogue. 

***

               On the night of Christmas Eve Dean couldn’t sleep. Things had been going so well for him that he’d become convinced it was going too well. Which was, of course, ridiculous, but since when had anything gone the right way for him? He stared at his ceiling trying to will his brain to shut the hell up and let him get some sleep. He told himself that there was absolutely no reason to believe it would all come crashing down. He and Cas had been getting along amazingly well, Sam was happy that Dean was happy, and it was Christmas tomorrow and he was fairly certain his gift to Cas would go over well. He even deviated somewhat from his normal gift for his health freak of a brother because he was feeling the Christmas spirit or whatever. So, yeah, if only his mind wouldn’t keep turning to all the ways tomorrow could go wrong, maybe he’d be awake enough in the morning to enjoy the holiday.

               Ten minutes later Dean knew he wasn’t going to fall asleep anytime soon. He let out a frustrated groan, pulled on warm socks, and added a sweatshirt over the Christmas PJs Charlie had gotten him (yeah, they were ridiculous, but they’d promised Charlie they would wear them, and they were warm and soft so he couldn’t really complain). He begrudgingly made his way to the kitchen, thinking that maybe eating more pie would help him feel better. Sam kept doubting his ability to consume all the pie he and Cas had baked, but Dean was determined to make sure no pie was left behind. He smelled chocolate as he walked into the kitchen and found Cas turning off the stove.

               “I don’t suppose there’s enough for a second cup of whatever smells so amazing?” Dean peers over Castiel’s shoulder having long ago stopped complaining about personal space. Cas smiles softly and starts pouring the hot cocoa as Dean notices there are already two mugs out on the counter. Cas then throws extra marshmallows in Dean’s mug, without Dean even having to ask.

               “I had a feeling you would have trouble sleeping. I know you and Sam haven’t had many happy Christmases.” Dean takes the offered mug from Castiel, a lump forming in his throat as it occurs to him that not only does his angel (and surely there’s no harm in just thinking of Cas as his angel) know him well enough to anticipate that he’d have a hard time sleeping, but he’s also aware enough of how much Dean dislikes the cold seeping into the bunker with all the snow, that he made him a hot drink. With extra marshmallows.

               “Thanks Cas. Want to hang out by the tree?” Cas grabs his own mug and follows Dean out to the couch they had moved by the tree earlier. There’s one blanket tossed over the arm and Cas drapes it over Dean’s shoulders before sitting down himself. The sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes as Cas gazes at the tree and Dean tries to not gaze at Cas. Dean smiles fondly at his mug as he drains the last of the hot chocolate his maybe more than best friend had made for him. Even when he and Cas had fought over the years, even when he’d felt betrayed by Cas, he’d never failed to try and look after Dean. As much as Dean had been furious at the angel over many times over, he also knew that he didn’t have much ground to stand on. In fact, he sometimes worried that Cas had learned a little bit too much about being a Winchester – most of Cas’ mistakes were made in the attempt to protect those he cared about. Most days Dean still wasn’t sure how he could possibly deserve someone like Castiel in his life. Cas really would have gone with him to what he’d thought was his death only a few months back, just so Dean wouldn’t have had to go alone.

               “Dean,” Cas says softly. “Merry Christmas.”

               Dean glances at his watch and notes that it is technically Christmas now.

               “Merry Christmas Cas.” They sit contentedly side by side for a few moments longer. Eventually Dean has an idea. He wasn’t sleeping anyway, so maybe he and Cas could exchange gifts privately now, rather than trying to find time to ditch Sam tomorrow.

               “Hey, Cas. You said you wanted to exchange gifts with just us, right? We could do that now if you wanted.” Dean was somewhat nervous about what Castiel would think of his gift, especially since he’d put so much work into it. Cas’ face lights up at Dean’s suggestion.

               “Yes, if you’re not tired. Can – can you go first though? Mine’s… a bit unorthodox.” Dean was now intensely curious but brushed that feeling aside in favor of the anxious anticipation of giving Cas his present.

               “No problem. It’s not under the tree though, and you need to be quiet so we don’t wake up Sammy.” Dean grabs Cas’ empty mug and drops the dishes off in the kitchen before coming back to drag Cas down the hall towards the living area.

               “Is it in your room?” Cas seemed confused. Dean just laughs softly and pulled him a bit further down the hall. Dean stops in front of one of the doors and opens it up without hitting the light switch. Dean takes a deep breath to calm himself, weaves his finger’s through Cas’, and pulls him into the dark room, closing the door behind them.

               “Hold on, let me find the switch.” Dean fumbles around for a few seconds and then switches on the string lights draped around the room. Cas doesn’t say anything for a long stretch of time, his eyes wide as he takes in the bed with a navy-blue bed set, the giant stuffed bee pillow that Dean thinks is called a pillow pal or something, the used dresser they had dragged out of storage and set up an old boombox on top of, the mismatched mirror and cork board with pins, the desk with the laptop Cas often uses next to a charging station, and the constellation themed throw rug on the floor. The walls had been painted a pale blue and there were two framed posters of what Dean thought were botanical gardens on the wall. The door Dean had closed had a hook on the back, with a soft robe and ridiculous fuzzy bee slippers that Sam had managed to find somewhere.

               “Dean – I – what is all of this?” Cas’ voice is timid as he reaches out to touch the microfiber comforter on the bed.

               “It’s yours. I know you’ve been camped out in a different room, but I couldn’t set all this up in there without you noticing.”

               “Mine? I… I don’t actually need to sleep or anything.” Dean smiles at his friend and moves over towards the dresser, opening one of the drawers to show off more of the gift to Cas.

               “Sure, none of us need Charlie’s Christmas PJs, but we’re all wearing them anyway. Look, we got you a few changes of clothing if you ever want them. There’s also a wardrobe we can drag up here if you need more than a few hooks for hanging up stuff. The bookshelf by the desk is mostly empty because Sam and I thought you’d want to move your books from the other room. Also, I know you can research in the library but you can also work in here if mine and Sam’s bickering gets to be too much. Um, anyway, I just want you to feel at home, because this is your home as much as it is ours Cas. You always have a place with us. I really hope it helps you to feel like you belong here with us.” Dean’s face had gone a bit red and he cuts himself off before he becomes too incoherent. He’s still a bit nervous but then Cas’ arms are around him before he even realizes that the angel had moved. Cas’ face is buried in Dean’s neck and after the initial shock wears off Dean returns the embrace.

               “Thank you. Thank you, Dean. It’s beautiful.” Cas’ voice is muffled by Dean’s neck but Dean gets the point regardless.

               “I’m really glad you like it. I’m hoping this means you’ll be here with us more often.” Cas nods weakly and then draws back from the hug, looking around the room again with something akin to awe on his face. It’s amazing to Dean that an angel who used to live in Heaven could feel anything like awe while looking at the small room in the bunker, but maybe this is more of a home than Castiel has had in a long time, maybe ever. Dean spends a few more minutes showing Cas everything in the room and offers to help Can move over anything he has stored elsewhere. Cas hugs the bee pillow when he thinks Dean isn’t looking and Dean plays along as if he hadn’t seen. Dean can’t help smiling at how happy he’s made Cas, it makes up for not having realized that Cas was missing this in the first place, at least a little bit.  

               “Thank you again, Dean. I’d like to give you your gift now, if that’s okay.” Cas looks almost shy when he looks up at Dean through his eyelashes while sitting on his new bed. Dean’s breath catches for just a second, Cas’ beauty just hits him like that sometimes.

               “Sure Cas,” Dean says a bit breathlessly, “lead the way.” Dean follows his angel back into the hall thinking that, while he’s sure he will love whatever Cas got him, the best present is knowing that he possibly had helped Cas feel like he really did belong here with him.

***

@galaxycastiel, @jellydeans, @my-favourite-hellatus, @nguyenxtrang

[livian-lucifenia]

Soft Fic™

Literally what this was titled when I found it.

This can be manga or game verse. I tended to combine manga Red with game Green, anyway so just pick a side and go for it.

It's cute but v rushed at the end.

It's old fanfiction, there's only so much you can do to it without saying fuck it and rewriting the whole thing.

You know the drill. If anything is fucky, overlook it and keep going.

That being said, enjoy.

____________

Green has such a soft heart and Red loves that about him.

Red thinks about this as he watches Green play peekaboo with a baby shiny eevee at his grandfather's lab. It was the last one from the most recent litter, and Red really hoped Green would take it home before someone else did. He seemed to make up excuses to visit the lab just so he and his eevee, Vee, could play with it. He even bought a little squeaky toy for it, so it would have something to play with when no one was around.

Green's birthday was coming up, so Red made a trip to the lab early one morning and asked the professor if he could take the eevee. Of course, the professor happily allowed him to have it, telling him to wish Green a happy birthday for him just in case he forgot. And with that, Red was on his way back to Viridian.

As expected, Green was still asleep in his room when he arrived. Red had thought about how exactly to give the eevee to Green, and decided on placing it in bed with him so he saw it when he woke up. Vee seemed okay with this arrangement, as she curled around the smaller pokémon and both fell asleep easily. Now to just wait until Green woke up.

It was an hour later when Green's bedroom door opened to reveal a very happy, messy-haired Green with his arms full of just as happy eevees. Honestly, Red could have died right there on the living room couch. Seeing Green like this was something he would never get tired of. Green was so damn adorable and Red was so happy he could live with his best friend.

Green also had a thing for toys and cute plushies.

Red knew this well. After all, Green had collected them as a kid, so it made sense that he would still like them now. He made a trip to Celadon every now and again to get supplies and always took Red into the large toy store. He would show him various things, explain what they did, or what he liked about them, and then put them back on the shelf. He always looked a little disappointed when he did this, and Red knew it was because Green secretly wanted to buy it, but didn't want other people to see him doing so. He was a popular gym leader, and didn't want some embarrassing article to pop up online about him being seen in a toy store. Red thought it was a little silly to worry over stuff like that, but Green liked to keep up his public image.

The wall at the back of the store was filled with various plushies, and Green always gravitated towards it. He liked the small, cute ones best, "How can you not like them, they're adorable!", he'd said as he picked up one that looked like an eevee, but was small enough to fit in the palm of his hand. He made comment about wanting to recreate his team with plushies, just as room decor or something, and Red instantly knew what he was buying as Green's Christmas gift this year.

And that's exactly what he did.

Of course, he had no idea how to wrap a gift, so he asked his mom for help. She gladly wrapped up the large box of plushies, and let Red fill out the To/From tag himself while she tied everything up with a pretty, dark green bow. As payment, she asked for him to stay a while longer and help her bake cookies for some gift baskets.

Red was in the middle of 'sampling' the third batch of cookies when his mom asked him a question, "You like Green, don't you?"

"Of course I do, he's my best friend. I wouldn't be living with him if I didn't.", he replied without hesitation.

She laughed a little as she slid another tray of cookie dough into the oven and turned to face him, "No, honey, I mean like a crush."

Red paused, did he have a crush on Green? "I... I don't know."

"How do you feel when you're around him?"

"Happy, but I've always felt like that with him. But there are some things he does that make me feel... different. I don't know how to describe it..."

"Do you ever think about him or miss him while he's at the gym?"

"All the time."

"You bought him those plushies for Christmas, why did you pick those over something else?"

"Because every time we go to Celadon, we go in the toy store, and he always looks at the same ones. He talks about them, too. About how detailed they are, or how soft the material is, or just that he likes them. He never buys them, though. He really wants to, I can tell, but he has an image to keep up. So... I bought them."

"That's very sweet if you. So, I take it you like making him happy?"

"Of course, why wouldn't I? He's cute when he's happy."

It took Red a moment to realize why his mother had paused their conversation to give him a knowing smile. His face felt hot and he just knew he probably matched his name and hat. The silence made him come to a realization, one he never saw coming, and probably wouldn't have if not for his mother.

"Mom, I think I have a crush on Green."

Now the question was, how the hell was he going to tell Green? Or... should he even say anything? Would it ruin their friendship? What if Green kicked him out?

All those thoughts made his head spin, and made him feel bad about even having those feelings towards Green.

He had to tell him, though. According to his mom, even though he had just realized what he was feeling, he had always acted differently with Green and vice versa. This all felt like something a teen should be dealing with, not a twenty year old league champion, but it is what it is. He couldn't complain, after all, the guy he was crushing on had a childish side too.

After having another long talk with his mom, Red decided the best way to confess was through a letter. That way, he wouldn't mess up his words or make an idiot of himself. The letter would be disguised as a card on top on his Christmas gift, and Red knew Green ways opened the cards first, so there was no way he would miss it. When Red sat down with a pen and paper to actually write the letter is where the problem came. What was he supposed to say?

It took two days to write the letter, and the trashcan next to his bed was filled with all the failed attempts to write a decent love letter.

A love letter...

That's what this was, wasn't it?

Arceus, he felt like he was in one of those sappy teen romance movies.

Finally, the day had arrived. Red woke up extra early to go pick up his gift to Green from his mom's house. He'd left it there because he didn't have enough room to hide it, and he didn't want the wrapping paper to be torn accidentally.

He placed the box and letter on Green's desk and quietly walked out, hoping he hadn't disturbed Vee or Viri, as they would surely wake Green up earlier than anticipated.

Red kept the apartment quiet as he waited, too afraid to even turn on the tv. He decided to go back to bed, it was still pretty early, and Green wouldn't be awake for another couple hours, anyway. So, after changing back into his pyjamas, he went back to sleep with Pika curled up at his back.

"...Red.... Red!"

Red woke with a start at the sound of his name being called. The first thing he saw was Green with his glasses on and tears falling down his freckled cheeks.

Oh.

Oh shit, Green was crying. Why was he crying? Is he upset? Red sat up, scooting closer to Green on the bed, "Green, what's wrong?"

Green looked down at the letter in his hands, "I... I got your gift."

Red's breath caught in his throat.

"Do you really feel like this about me?"

Red leaned in a little closer, "Yes..."

"Even... E-Even after all the shit I put you through?" Green wouldn't face him. Still staring down at the letter and wiping his face with the back of his sweater sleeve.

"Of course, I do. I forgave you, didn't I?"

"Yeah, but I didn't deserve it. I still don't. I... don't deserve any of this. You're too nice to me. I mean, I appreciate it, I really do, but I feel like I'm not good enough. I forgot your birthday this year and then you brought Viri home for my birthday... and now this. You picked out exactly what I liked, and you couldn't have known unless you really payed attention, and I can't even remember what kind of cereal you like, and I love you so much... but, I don't deserve you."

Red pressed his hand to Green's tear-soaked cheek, making him look up. "You don't have to remember stuff like that for me, or do anything special. You make me happy, Green."

Green closed the gap between them, kissing Red with everything he had. Red responded with just as much eagerness, his hands finding their way into Green's soft, messy hair.

He loved Green, and Green loved him, too.

Red broke the kiss so they could breathe, and wiped the remaining tears from Green's face, "I love you."

Green smiled, "I love you, too."

................

One year later, Red was helping Green put together a shelf for all of their collectables and plushies they had acquired over the year, Viri had surprised them a month earlier by evolving into a Sylveon, and Red was planning a different kind of surprise for Christmas this year.

He was going to ask Green to marry him.

____________

Ah, yes. More fluff.

Don't worry, there's more angst content coming soon.

Asks and add-ons relating to my content are always accepted!! 💜💜

Have a good day/night, my dudes.

[darlinrogue]

So, Why Didn’t Adam Join the Dark Order?

I knew last week as soon as Adam’s segment with the Dark Order aired and everyone was celebrating Adam joining the wacky little group of misfits— he wasn’t going to. Felt that one in my bones. You want proof? Here it is:

For a week every twitter, reddit, and tumblr post eagerly anticipated Adam joining, and I did not. Because I know my muse and I saw where he ended that segment with the Dark Order. He was pulled into frame by Stu and as soon as his bit was done, he left the frame. Adam intentionally isolated himself from the group. He isolates himself when he’s trying to protect himself. We saw it for months with Adam and the Elite. The Elite beckoning Adam to ring side or to their sides, and Adam pulling away, hiding. It’s remarkable really, to see a 230 pound man, try to hide behind a ref four inches shorter than him. 

Sure enough, last night rolls around, and everyone is in shock. Why didn’t Adam join the Dark Order? He’s had so much fun with them. They clearly love and adore him. He’s been smiling, laughing, and having a good time for the first time in months. Why didn’t he join in on the reindeer games?

I’ve been remarking that Adam’s plot is not about the Dark Order. The Dark Order is a detour on a longer journey Adam is embarking on. You see, Adam’s story, his entire plot in AEW, is (in theory) leading him to becoming the AEW World Champion. That has been his stated goal and quest since he signed with the company. Every good character has something that they want. What does Adam want? He wants the AEW World Championship Belt. 

Why did Adam not get the AEW World Championship Belt in 2019 when he fought Chris Jericho? 

Because he was not given the support he needed by his friends.

Adam asked the Young Bucks to join him at ringside, to support him like they support Kenny. They said, ‘no,’ and later Adam remarks, that he thought that no one believed in him, but himself. He went into that match, fought Chris, and lost to Chris. 

You may respond to me, that I can’t blame the Young Bucks for Adam’s failure.

To which I ask, do you think this failure is on the part of Adam? Adam Page who is young, talented, skilled and physically perfect, as a professional wrestler? You don’t think that the Bucks favoring Kenny, ignoring all their other relationships, and having entitled attitudes towards their half-assed friendships, is not a problem? Because it is and we are shown specifically, that is is a problem. Brandon Cutler, a year later, will call it out as a problem. Brandon demands that Matt and Nick support him in an important match. Matt not only says, ‘no’ initially, but he also calls Brandon an ungrateful bastard when Brandon then calls Matt out for breaking a promise that he made. The Bucks had to learn, long after Adam first asked for their help, to support and be there for their friends. Like they expect their friends to be there for them. That attitude of theirs, that is entitled and egotistical, that measures the value of their friendships (and their own worth) by success, is why Adam had to leave the Elite. 

But, Adam hasn’t been the Buck’s friend as long as Kenny? 

Time-in isn’t the issue. Brandon Cutler has known the Bucks longer than Kenny, but he got called an ‘ungrateful bastard’ when he asked the Bucks to just stand at ring side for him and also not make excuses about why they can’t. When the Bucks fail to be there for Kenny, Kenny gets an apology. When the Bucks fails to be there for Adam and Brandon, they get yelled at. The issue is that Kenny Omega is Kenny Omega, the greatest wrestler ever, and the Bucks are willing to stand in his corner. To prioritize Kenny because Kenny is the favorite. And if you’re Adam Page, who wants the support, validation, and love of his friends, and you see that in order to be supported, validated, and loved, you have to be as succesful and important as Kenny Omega— than the pressure is on. When Adam left the Elite, he did not cite any particular incident of wrong doing against him, he just said that he, ‘could no longer be the least succesful person’ of his group. And he needed time alone. 

Why did Adam say that?

Let’s frame this in roles. A role is something you function in, in life, something that you do, a part that you play in your social circles. We all have a litany of rolls: parent, child, teacher, cousin, grandparent, co-worker, boss, employee, etc. Two of Adam’s roles include: friend and member of the Elite. He is friend with the Young Bucks and he is a member of their group. There are expectations that come with roles. A friend is expected to be supportive, helpful, caring, and present. A member of the Elite is expected to participate in the group, to help defend the group, and to be apart of the group. An unstated expectation, that Adam both perceives and is quietly placed on him, is to be succesful. These were Adam’s roles and through-out his time in the Elite he played them pretty well (with a small lapse alongside Cody). 

Then, Adam lost to Chris, and all of a sudden, he slipped in his roles. 

Losing to Chris was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Adam’s mental health completely failed him as he spiraled into anxiety and depression. He stopped communicating with the Bucks and Kenny after Double or Nothing. He was expected to be at ringside to defend the Bucks and the Elite from attack, he failed to be present. He failed to defeat Chris, Pac, MJF, every single major single’s defense, he lost. Adam was failing in his roles. His friends felt it, the Bucks responded with outrage, and they weren’t wrong, but they weren’t right. Kenny was, well, just falling to pieces, and Cody merely advised Adam not to isolate himself. 

Except, Adam’s personality demands that he isolate himself when he feels threatened and anxious. And, after several weeks of failing in his roles, delving into drinking to cope with his anxiety, he decided to just drop the roles all together. He left the Elite and pulled back from being a friend. Maybe, in theory his plan was to take a break from his roles, and then come back when he could preform them (probably when he became succesful like he thought he should be) It was a noble effort and it totally failed.

 Because then he was just isolated, unsuccessful, and alone. He tried to join a cult in December. The Elite blew-up like, twice through-out 2020. Instead of ditching roles he picked-up other roles, tag-team champion, Kenny’s partner, Kenny’s friend. He stayed the ‘friend’ of the Bucks for like 2-3 months, hanging in the EVP locker room, quietly keeping his head down even though he has stated he does not like the Bucks anymore. Adam’s story is of a man constantly trying to keep as many plates spinning as possible, until he inevitably loses his balance and they all crash around him.  

You have to believe, then, that when Matt finally, finally threw that drink in Adam’s face? It was a fucking relief.

When Kenny beat him in the Eliminator tournament and revealed his inability to even be succesful? It was a fucking relief. 

No more roles, no more ways to disappoint someone, it was just Adam alone. And hell, it was fun. Because he could tag with Reynolds and Silvers, hang around the Dark Order, go to a Christmas party. Nothing too serious or heavy, no plates, or obligations. December and early-January are the most happy and relaxed we have seen Adam in almost years. He was having fun. He hadn’t had fun since AEW formed. 

Adam has said that he considers his failure in his roles a personal failure. That indicates that he is a bad person. Who deserves to be alone, who should be alone because of how destructive he is. He says that he is a, ‘piece of shit,’ and that he feels like he is, ‘full of poison.’ Adam knows that he has failed in his roles. No one knows it more than him and no one is more willing to apologize for it, than him. Adam once said that he, ‘deserved’ the beatings the Decade gave him so he could learn the lessons they were teaching. That impulse, that he is so bad that he deserves pain and suffering, remains deeply embedded in him. No one hates Adam Page more than Adam Page does. No one knows how much of an insecure failure Adam Page is more than Adam Page does. No one knows how terrible of a friend Adam Page is more than Adam Page. Adam knows all about his worst impulses, the impulses that have led him to use a chair and a noose in a ring. His impulses that had him trying to sabotage the Bucks, not once but twice, because he was so terrified of the Bucks once and for all proving that they are better than him. His impulse to drink, to isolate, to hide, and when backed into a corner, to lash out with anger. 

No one hates Adam Page more than Adam Page does. 

So, when Silvers gets on one knee and asks Adam to marry join his group? To take on more roles, after Adam so completely failed in his last few? When Adam is obviously terrified of taking on responsibility because he is afraid of failing. no one knows better than Adam that there are obligations to being in a group. Obligations to having friends. He does not want to fail Silvers and Reynolds like he failed the Bucks. Silvers asked Adam if he will take on the role of being in a group.

Adam said, “I can’t.”

Not, “I won’t.”

Or just, “no.”

An ‘I can’t,’ like, he wants to be, but doesn’t believe that he is physically capable. 

And he felt so bad about it, felt like such an awful, worthless person, that he took the whiskey tunnel and went down the bad guy tunnel. Because that’s what he feels like, the bad guy. The one who disappointed their party plans. Who used the Dark Order as an easy way to forget his problems and have fun. Adam wants all the joy of social interaction with none of the obligation. Who can blame him? He’s had a hard year and if you feel like you’re such an inevitable failure, then why would you want more responsibility?

So, where does Adam go from here?

There are a lot of ways but mainly, it’s about easing Adam back into responsibility. Getting him things to do that he can succeed at, rebuilding his confidence, and getting him back on his feet. Teaching him not to use alcohol to handle his stress. All of the work that has to be done for him to become functioning enough that he can begin to resume his roles again. He’s going to have to reconcile with the Bucks. Talk to them, but also be heard by the Bucks (because this shit goes both ways). He and the Dark Order are going to need to talk about the expectations. What can be done to support Adam. All of this to bring Adam to the point where he can assume the role of: friend, partner, member of a group, and eventually, one day, just maybe, AEW World Champion. He is far and away from there, but it can be done. It can be done and that’s why I said Adam ‘needs’ his friends. 

Not that he ‘believes’ he needs them. No, Adam isn’t like Mox, he needs them. He needs social support. He needs people to believe in him. He cannot try to do this alone. We have seen him try that, it didn’t work. He needs the Bucks to say ‘yes’ when asked to be there for him (because once again, this shit goes both ways). Adam needs friends like a shonen protagonist needs friends, all to fuel the Power of Friendship. He cannot be an island. He must learn how to function in his roles and bear the stress of day-to-day life. 

How exactly AEW goes about telling that story?

I don’t know, but I have some guesses. In the short term I imagine the Dark Order is going to be the white meat baby faces they are and reconcile with Adam. I also suspect that the issue Adam and the Bucks have will be addressed sooner rather than later. In the long-term it’s about building a story where Adam does in reverse what he did in 2020. Where if in 2020 he was the cause of the Elite fracturing; Then in 2021, he is the cause of the Elite healing. 

[animeniacss]

What I Want - BadBoy! Taehyung x Reader - Chapter 10 - Soooo...What Are You Guys?

Synopsis:  You are an innocent, excitable new girl, moving all the way to Korea due to your dad’s new job. As you anxiously learn about the new world around you and how you’ll make your mark, you stumble into none other than bad boy Kim Taehyung and his band of six crazy friends. He seems to be bothered but you, something he doesn’t even understand. Will you be able to tolerate the shenanigans of Taehyung and his rowdy friends, or will you fall victim to his charms just like everyone else?

Featuring Jihyo and Dahyun (TWICE) as your friends, and BTS members as Taehyung’s group of friends.

Genre: Romance, BadBoy!V, BadBoy!BTS, High School Romance, Drama

Length: approx. 4.7k words

Chapter 10 - Soooo...What Are You Guys? 

“Sooo you both kissed twice?” Dahyun asked, resting against the back of your bed as she glanced up at you.

           “Three times!” You said. “Each time, honestly, was better than the last!” You covered your cheeks and fell back on your bed. “Tonight was so much fun~.”

           “So what else did you do? Did you see the lights? Weren’t they pretty?” Dahyun asked curiously. You rolled on your side, looking down at Dahyun where she was sitting.

           “Well…” you began, pursing your lips. “We didn’t get to stay for that.” Dahyun and Jihyo looked at you slightly confused. “Taehyung got into a fight with some guy named Ji Seok over a girl named Hyuna.”

           “Ji Seok?” Jihyo asked her face etching a look of worry on it. “Oh crap, oh no… “

           “What’s wrong?” you asked. Dahyun glanced at her, slightly confused herself.

           “Na Ji Seok is a dangerous man,” Jihyo stated. “Like ten times worse than Taehyung and his friends have ever, and could ever be in their lives!”

           “…They both seem like regular bad boys who get into fistfights and smoke. I didn’t see the differences.” Jihyo walked over to you, taking your shoulders and staring at you with an intense look on her face.

           “Does Taehyung have a criminal record?” Jihyo asked. You blinked. “No. He doesn’t, he’s just an idiot. Ji Seok is dangerous, he’s put people in the hospital. He’s made threats, he’s gotten arrested! He is also incredibly possessive. If Taehyung did something stupid like talk to his girlfriend, then Ji Seok will not let it go.” Jihyo sighed. “If you want to be with Taehyung so badly, you need to be extra careful because once Ji Seok finds out, he’s going to make your life hell.” Hearing how serious Jihyo sounded made you extremely nervous. You rested your head on Jihyo’s shoulder, feeling a big lump in your throat. She hugged you tightly. “But if I know those boys at all, they won’t let you get hurt. So take that for that it’s worth, okay?” you nodded, hugging Jihyo tightly. Dahyun propped herself up, her arm gently rubbing your arm to help calm you down.

           “How do you know this anyway, Jihyo?” Dahyun asked curiously.

           “Ji Seok was around our middle school after he and Hyun-ah started dating our third year. He’s like two years older than us.” Jihyo explained. She sighed, looking down at you again. “Back to lighter topics…” she smiled. “How does it feel to officially be in a relationship with Kim Taehyung? The biggest bad boy idiot in school?” The playful sarcasm in Jihyo’s voice made you smile.

           “Well…as far as I’m aware, I don’t even think we’re dating. I mean…he never asked me out or anything.” Jihyo frowned.

           “So he just kissed and ran?” She asked.

           “Well no, but-“

           “Dahyun, get the baseball bat.” She said, standing up. Dahyun got up as well and they headed towards the door. You couldn’t help but laugh at them.

           “No!!” You shouted, laying on your bed. “I mean I don’t know. Maybe he’s waiting?” Jihyo sighed, closing your door as she and Dahyun returned to your bed. “We talked about going on another date so maybe he wants to do it then?” You rested your head in your sheets and sighed. “I don’t know and it’s killing me. Also, that girl Hyuna isn’t doing me any favors either.”

           “Did you really think you dating a bad boy would come with just rainbows and roses?” Dahyun teased.

           “No, but I didn’t think a girl would be trying to steal him before I even got to take him in the first place. A beautiful girl in a relationship, no less. She looks much more like his type, dark, exotic, beautiful-“

           “You’re beautiful too,” Jihyo said. “And Taehyung does seem to really like you. He didn’t kiss Hyun-ah last night, did he?”

           “No…He kissed me…” saying that made you sit up, a grin forming on your face as your cheeks turned red. “Three times~!” You flung yourself back onto your bed, making your friends laugh as you held a pillow tightly. “And it was the best thing in my life! Well, maybe not the one in the bathroom that was so unexpected, but the other two~!? Ah! And his lips were so soft and the way he smiled afterward I just-“

           “Okay, we get it,” Jihyo said, grinning a bit as you sat back up.

           “No need to brag to the singles of the world,” Dahyun said. Jihyo pressed her fingers together, eyes darting to the wall. “…Why do you look like that?” Dahyun asked.

           “…Speak for yourself.” She mumbled. You and Dahyun’s eyes widened.

           “WHAT?!” You both shouted, grabbing Jihyo roughly. She looked at you two staring at her in absolute shock.

           “When?” Dahyun asked.

           “How?!” You asked.

           “WHO?!” You both shouted. Jihyo laughed a bit.

           “Stop, stop. It’s nothing serious, we just started seeing each other…” You and Dahyun gripped her arms tightly, anticipating who she would say. “Well…you know Kang Daniel, right? The one who changed his name?”

           “Oh yeah!” Dahyun gasped. “Nobody could ever say his name. What was it? Euw-gone? Eui-gown?-“

           “Eui-geon.” Jihyo corrected. “But yeah. He and I were in the library together studying, when I was preparing for the history test early one. We got to talking and…he just was really nice.” She smiled sweetly. “We’ve been talking ever since then, only like a week… but yeah.”

           “Jihyo, that’s amazing!” You gasped, hugging her tightly. “I’m so happy! I have to meet him soon.” Jihyo smiled, nodding. “Now, Dahyun?” she lifted her hands.

           “Nope. Nothing interesting here. Just me.” She grinned a bit. You smiled, as the three of you continued to chat about you and Jihyo’s love life, and possibly a potential date for Dahyun, which she was not interested in at all right now, thank you!

           Sleeping was practically non-existent for you. You were lying in bed, the house quiet as your family slept soundly. You couldn’t stop thinking about the day you had just experienced. Rolling on your side, you realized you hadn’t checked your phone since the girls had stopped by. Did Taehyung make it home okay? Was he feeling better? Pulling it open, the light of your background, a picture of you and your little brother, was covered by a pop-up from Kim Taehyung. You opened it quickly. He had sent you two messages a few hours ago, and you hadn’t realized.

           To: You

           From: Kim Taehyung ^o^

           I’m back at Jin-Hyung’s house. I’ll probably stay here for the night. -.-zzzzzzz (Sent 7:45 PM)

           I had a lot of fun tonight, but my head is killing me. I’ll see you at school so we can discuss date number two. >.o (Sent 7:50 PM)

You smiled as you looked over those texts a few more times. Only then, you felt your phone buzz in your hand. At the top of the screen, a message came up that flashed: SEOKJIN O.O on top. Opening it, you saw that it was a picture of Taehyung. He was on the couch, ice pack on his head as he slept soundly under some covers. You couldn’t help but smile. It was inevitable, you had to keep that picture, he looked too cute. So, you saved it. Jin then followed up with a text. It read:

           No sign of a concussion, pain killers helped his headache. He finally fell asleep, he hasn’t’ stopped talking about tonight since we got home. Maybe you and I can go on a date next? I think Worldwide Handsome deserves a fun night too T.T (Sent 10:45 PM)

           Another ding. Another text.

           I’m kidding, I’m kidding. Taehyung would kill me :(.Anyway, sleep well. (Sent 10:46 PM).

           You smiled, closing your phone and rolling over to your other side. You nuzzled into your pillow, smiling as the thought of seeing Taehyung tomorrow encouraged you to fall asleep.

           School the next day was cold, it was almost Christmas break after all. Students arrived in puffy coats and boots, with hats, scarves, and mittens. Some shivered as they rushed into the warmth of the school building. You were the same way, rushing to your shoe locker and quickly changing your shoes. Just as you did, you felt an arm reach above your head, closing your locker that you had to reach up to get to. You smiled a bit, sliding your school shoes on as you turned to see Taehyung. He was standing close enough that your back had to be pressed against the lockers, stopping anyone who may need to get behind you from doing so. But honestly, you didn’t care. You smiled up at Taehyung, seeing that he was wearing a scarf, but his school blazer was unbuttoned.

           “You trying to catch a cold, you daredevil?” you asked, reaching out to do up his buttons. You saw his cheeks tint pink as he pulled his scarf above his nose to cover it. The sight made you smile. “Am I making you shy, Taehyung?”

           “You know exactly what you’re doing.” He muffled from under his scarf.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about…” you smiled, your hands making their way up to his top button, snapping them shut. Then, your hands rested on his chest. One of your hands lowered Taehyung’s scarf to expose his boxy smile. You shyly nibbled on your bottom lip. “You look so shy, why?” He asked, scooting his body a little closer to you. You felt his leg rest between your thighs and you blushed. That’s when you remembered that you were no longer outside your house, covered by the darkness of a mysterious winter night. Instead, you were in broad daylight, practically by the main entrance of your school. The realization hit you, and you pulled your hands back from Taehyung’s scarf.

           “Taehyung, we’re in public.” You said, looking around. You saw other kids starring, whispering to each other as they passed by. People have whispered about you and Taehyung before but…this new thing between you, whatever it was, hadn’t been confirmed yet. You didn’t want anything getting around the school before you yourself even knew what to make of this new situation. Taehyung saw you blush, and look down at the floor. He pulled his leg back and glanced around. When he saw the groups of people walking past, their eyes glued to him, he glared at them.

           “Can I help you?” he asked. Boys grabbed their girlfriend’s hands and bolted down the hallway, girls held each other and fled, some of them whispering to each other how jealous they were of you. Taehyung turned back to you, still seeing how red in the face you were. “You okay?” he asked, leaning in a bit. You glanced at him, seeing how close you two were. You nodded a bit.

           “Sorry, I’m…not really used to public displays for affection.” You said. Taehyung smiled.

           “Don’t be sorry.” He said, his hand gently resting on your cheek. You felt your cheek fall into his touch just slightly, it was so soft and gentle. “I think it’s cute.” You smiled a bit, nodding.

           “Your hands are really soft, you know that? You’d think they’d be more…rough, I guess.” Taehyung chuckled.

           “Well you’re the only one that gets to know what they’re like soft, okay?” he said. “I have an image to upkeep after all.” Hearing that made your heart flutter a bit. You were so happy to be the only person that got to feel his soft hands as they caressed your face and how gently they held onto your own hands. It put you at ease. Suddenly, the bell rang, and you both glanced up.

           “Oh, the first bell. We should probably get going.” You said before Taehyung leaned in. He gave you a quick peck, taking you off guard just like the first one. You covered your lips as he pulled back, grinning.

           “Shall we go, then?” he asked. You nodded, grabbing your bag as the two of you headed to class. You saw other students look in your direction as you headed down the halls and into your classroom. You saw Jihyo turn in your direction when you stepped into the classroom, Taehyung walking in behind you. He stilled looked like going to class was the biggest inconvenience of his life, but seeing how happy it made you…he had to go every once in a while. He just couldn’t bear to see you. You went to Jihyo’s table, eyes sparkling as you greeted her. Taehyung made his way over too, leaning on Jihyo’s table.

           “You look so surprised to see me,” Taehyung said.

           “Well, I guess I’m not surprised anymore.” Jihyo sighed. “You gonna get Jimin and the others to go to class now, too?” Taehyung shrugged.

           “If they want to. But they much prefer to hang out and go to a few classes, like lunch and maybe the gym.” He grinned. As the second bell rang, everyone went to take their seats. Getting out your stuff, you saw Professor Choi makes his way in. Everyone got up and greeted him. Taehyung stood up too, which was a first, but he kept his hands in his pockets and just lazily nodded his head a bit before sitting back down. He rested his head in his hand, which he perched on the desk as Professor Choi began to lecture. It was going to be yet another boring lesson, and he couldn’t wait until lunch.

           Luckily for Taehyung, lunch rolled around pretty quickly. The bell rang and the classroom let out a sigh of relief, most people resting their heads on tables or stretching out their limbs in their seats. Taehyung stood up, walking over to you as you pulled out a little boxed lunch.

           “I’m going to grab something from the cafeteria.” He said, making you glance up at him. “Want me to come back and eat with you?” you shook your head.            

           “That’s okay. Dahyun, Jihyo, and I were going to Dahyun’s class to eat. So you go enjoy yourself with your friends, okay?” You smiled. Taehyung smiled a bit, nodding as he put a hand on your head, ruffling it. “Just stay warm, and promise you’ll be back afterward. We have gym coming up~.”

           “Alright, see you then.” He said, ruffling your hair. He exited the room before Jihyo called your name, and you both headed next door to Dahyun’s class. The three of you gathered by Dahyun’s desk opened your meals and began to eat while chatting with each other. As the three of you were minding your own business, you heard footsteps approach. Looking over, you saw that it was two girls, both looking directly at you.

           “…What do you need, Yoon-Jae? Jong-Rye?” Dahyun asked. They still looked at you.

           “So…are you are Taehyung-Oppa like…dating?” one of them asked. You blushed, lowering your lunch box as you tried to comprehend what you were just asked. You still weren’t sure, but you didn’t want to deny it. After all, people just don’t go around kissing other people unless they’re dating, right? But then again….Taehyung has been seen with multiple ladies over the course of the months you have known him.

           “Why do you care?” You asked.

           “Well we saw you totally flirting downstairs this morning and we just wanted to know,” Jong-Rye said, grinning.

           “We also want to know if any of his friends are available or something! They’re just so hot, you’re so lucky.” You raised an eyebrow.

           “I don’t mean to be rude but I’m not playing matchmaker for them.” You stated. “I don’t know what the others are doing romantically. I’m sorry, I can’t be of any more help. Maybe you should just ask them yourselves.”

           “Yeah but…” Yoon-Jae sighed. “They all seem to really like you, we thought maybe you could just see.”

           “Besides, you’re Taehyung’s girlfriend, so it shouldn’t be a problem.”

           “I-“ You huffed. “I can’t help you.” You looked back at your food, eyebrows furrowed as you continued to eat.

           “But-“ Yoon-Jae was stopped by Dahyun.

           “I think you got your answer, Yoon-Jae.” She smiled. “Just let it go.” The girls huffed and walked back to their seats, grumbling to themselves. Dahyun glanced at you and smiled at your angry expression. “There’s a look I’ve never seen from you before.” She teased.

           “I was worried people would start asking me about my relationship with Taehyung. I don’t even know what it is myself. I just found them both very rude, it pissed me off.” You said, taking another bite of your food. Jihyo and Dahyun glanced at each other as you continued to eat. “I just…I want to know what my relationship is before people just label me as his girlfriend. I want him to…tell me that is what he wants from. I don’t want to be just some girl he flirts with and kisses sometimes.” She added, setting your food down. “I don’t think I would be able to handle it if that’s what it turned out to be…” Jihyo smiled.

           “I don’t think that’s the case.” She assured. “He wouldn’t just take any girl out to the Seoul Christmas Festival, much less plan a second date afterward.” That was true, and it made you feel slightly better. “Just relax and enjoy your food. No need for you to stress too much about it, Taehyung really likes you.”

           “You’re right.” You said, finishing up your food. “I’m gonna go for a walk…I’ll be back before the next bell.” The girls watched you close your lunch box and put it into your bag before walking out of the classroom. You made your way down the hall, and people were looking at you as if you were an exotic animal. Whispers were heard between people about you and Taehyung, and that you two were seen kissing by the shoe lockers this morning and flirting behind the school, and god knows what else. It aggravated you, being the source of such stupid gossip and school-wide chatter. You made your way towards one of the secluded staircases that nobody really used because there were bigger and more accessible ones all through the school. Taking a seat on the bottom step, you closed your eyes and rested the side of your head against the wall. Your mind was racing and it was giving you the worst kind of headache. As you were sitting alone, wallowing in self-pity, you heard a voice.

           “You okay?” You looked up to hear Namjoon standing over you, hands in his pockets. You sighed, pouting up at him. “I passed your class and Jihyo said you went for a walk after lunch. Soooo I came to find you.” You saw him smile down at you before he plopped himself at your side. “So what’s wrong? Or are you just decided to skip class?” You chuckled a bit.

           “Me? You have the wrong girl, I could never.” You said. “I’m like you guys. Maybe that’s why everyone’s been talking about me and Taehyung. Nobody must’ve foreseen us actually becoming anything.” Namjoon nodded, pursing his lips together as he turned to you. “I kind of wish I was more like you guys, a bit more daring and a lot less cookie-cutter goody-goody.”

           “Yeah, but if you were, I don’t think Taehyung would’ve liked you as much,” Namjoon admitted. You glanced at him. “He’s always dated the rebel-Esque bad girl since we were all in middle school into high school. They’d cut class, smoke together, taunt and tease everyone. He was awful with Hyun-ah, more so than he normally is. I think after that break-up, he really-“

           “They dated?” you asked, eyes wide. Namjoon’s face had a look of surprise on it as he looked at you.

           “He didn’t tell you?” You shook your head. “Well, maybe that’s for the best. That was one of the most toxic relationships he’s ever been it. After they broke up after our middle school graduation, he kind of molded himself into what he was when you first met.” He put a hand on your shoulder. “There’s no need for you to stress, okay? Taehyung really likes you, he won’t shut up about you anymore.”

           “Really?” you smiled a bit, sitting up. Namjoon nodded. “That must get annoying.” Namjoon shrugged.

           “Not really. It’s much better than hearing him curse and punch walls or whatever the fuck he was doing before.” That made you giggle. “You shouldn’t let Hyun-ah or Ji-Seok get you down, or any of the rumors or whatever people are saying. You two should go at your own pace and determine your relationship as you see fit.” You sighed.

           “You know you’d be the top of the class if only you went to class.” You said.

           “I have an IQ of 148, you know,” Namjoon said, a smug grin on his face.

           “WHAT?!” You stood up. “And you don’t apply that to your studies!? NAMJOON!” He laughed as you shoved him, using that as a way to lead you back towards your classroom. You kept throwing random riddles and trivia at him in hopes of getting proof of his knowledge, and each time he would respond. It amazed you.

           When you got back into class, you said goodbye to Namjoon, and turned to see Taehyung, already in his seat. Jimin was there too, surprisingly, sitting on Taehyung’s desk and chatting with him. You gasped.

           “Jimin, please tell me you’re staying.” You said, approaching them. You saw Taehyung smile a bit as you approached.

           “Taehyung decided I should come in today. I figured I had no choice because he had me in a headlock.” You glanced at Taehyung, who responded with a goofy grin. Your eyes sparkled.

           “It’s finally happening. I’m changing you guys for the better.” You sighed, grinning as you spun around to face Namjoon, who got startled by the sudden action. “Go to class, Namjoon!”

           “What? Why?”

           “Three out of seven is a good start! Go, go! And drag any of your friends you pass along the way!” You stated, shoving Namjoon out of the door. “Byeeee~.” You closed the door on him before he could refuse your request. You heard Jimin and Taehyung laughing behind you, and you turned back to them. “The bells about to ring, get in your seat, Jimin.” Jimin got up, heading to his seat.

           “Okaaaaaay…” He sighed, taking his seat at the far left side of the class. He put his hands in his pockets and glanced back to Taehyung, who playfully wiggles his eyebrows. You smiled, poking Taehyung’s shoulder.

           “We still need to prepare for that second date, you know…” you said softly, walking past him and to his seat. That made Taehyung grin as the bell rang and the second round of classes began.

           As the week went on, the rumors grew. You wanted to ask Taehyung what your relationship was, especially when he would get really close and tell you something before giving you a little peck, or when he would stand behind you and rest his hands on your head or your waist, but the more and more he did it, you would get more and more nervous, fearful of the answer that was soon to show its face, and you would stop him. You knew deep down you were overthinking it, that everyone was right; Taehyung did like you and that’s why he was acting this way. But still, there was this seed of doubt, planted deep in your stomach, which made you feel like you were looking at this with behind a pair of rose-tinted glasses. That Friday, you were standing by the entrance of the school, waiting for Jihyo so you two could walk home together. Then, you heard another voice.

           “Hey!” You turned to see Taehyung approach you, smiling a bit. “You’re walking some with Jihyo right?”

           “Yeah.” You smiled a bit. “We’re getting some coffee and doing homework at a nearby café.” Taehyung nodded.

           “Cool. Jin-Hyung said we could all go to his house and use his parent’s new hot tub. I was going to invite you because well..” he skimmed you over and wiggled his eyebrows. You gasped, nudging him as he busted into laughter.

           “Stop!” You said. He smiled and leaned towards you.

           “Sorry.” He said. When you saw him get closer, you quickly glanced around to see people were staring in your direction. It made you panic, and instinctively pull away. Taehyung blinked. “…Hey. What’s wrong?”

           “Sorry…” you said. “My lips are chapped…” you covered your lips. You saw Jihyo approaching and you grabbed her hand. “I’ll call you…” You said quickly before leading Jihyo out of the school. Taehyung watched you, confused and a bit hurt as he watched you and Jihyo disappear from his sight. Jungkook and Yoongi approached Taehyung, snapping him out of his trance as he headed with them out of the school.

           While you were doing homework, you couldn’t focus. You felt so bad, and Taehyung looked so hurt! You wanted to kiss him, you regret pulling away but…ugh!

           “I’m so stupid.” You said, covering your face. Jihyo glanced up at you. “I didn’t kiss Taehyung back and he looked so upset. Oh, why did I do that?” Jihyo smiled.

           “Everyone whispering about you two like they do must be doing something to you.” She pointed out. “You shouldn’t let them get to you.”

           “I know, I just can’t help it. I’m overthinking everything and it’s going to blow up right in my face!” Jihyo reached out and took your hands.

           “Then call Taehyung and apologize, duh. I don’t think he’s mad at you or anything, just explain yourself. Trust me, I’m sure he knows this is your first relationship.”

           “Did you or Daniel ask each other out before you started kissing and all of that?” You asked. Jihyo blushed.

           “Well yeah. He and I kissed goodbye and then he asked me outright afterward. But Daniel and Taehyung are two different people, and that shows in their relationships. Just tell Taehyung how you feel and he’ll give you the answer on if he’s viewing this the same way you are.” You nodded.

           “Okay. Okay, then…” you opened your phone and shot him a quick text.

           Taehyung, I really need to talk to you about today. Are you free after you hang out with your friends? (Sent 5:30 PM)

           You set your phone down, trying to focus on work as you waited for his reply.

           You didn’t get a reply from the time between finishing up at the café, catching the train home, and making your way up to your room. Was he really hurt about what happened?! Oh no…You buried your head in your pillow, trying to think of what to do because sending millions of texts just wasn’t going to be it. It was in the middle of wallowing in your self-pity that your door opened, and your brother stepped in.

           “Hey.” He said, closing the door. “Mom said dinner is almost ready.”

           “I’m not hungry.” You said, sitting up. “Just have Mom save it for me, okay?” Your brother walked over.

           “What’s wrong? Did Taehyung do something?!” He frowned. You shook your head.

           “No. No, he didn’t I just…I’m being stupid.” You rubbed your face. “I’m gonna rest…” Your brother watched you lie down and reached over, patting your shoulder. You smiled a bit as he left the room. You sighed, covering your face as you tried to think of what to do. Suddenly, your phone buzzed. Scrambling up, you opened it to see Taehyung had finally texted you back!

           Why don’t you come downstairs and tell me then? (Sent 6:47 PM).

           “…What?” you mumbled, putting your phone in your pocket as you raced down the stairs and to the door. You flung the door open to see Taehyung resting against the door frame, arms crossed, and a neutral expression on his face. “Taehyung!” You sighed in relief. “What are you doing here?” He slowly formed a smile on his face as he stuck his hand out to you. You raised an eyebrow but took his hand anyway. Reaching in behind you and into the hallway, he grabbed your jacket and pressed it against your chest.

           “We need to go somewhere~.” He said with a grin.

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[erasethedarkness]

If you are taking requests, "y'know your roof might not be the safest place to stargaze" with aizawa? Your Christmas countdown was very cute and well written! Thank you for all the hard work you put into your writing💜💜💜💜

Ahhh, Starry Anon, you’re so sweet! Thank you for taking the time to read my works and make a request! Interactions like this are just so reassuring and validating, and certainly make me want to write and share so much more. ^^ I hope you enjoy this mashup between your prompt and the “Secret Admirer” prompt for my Valentine’s Day Countdown! 

In the Stars -Day 5 | Secret Admirer- 

Summary: You were going to do it- you were determined to ask Aizawa out. At least, you intended to, except he didn’t make it back to his office before classes started and you ran late to your first meeting, which set you back clear through lunch. By then, a rumor was in full bloom that he had a secret admirer. Despite your efforts, it was fated for you to remain anonymous that day, so you decided to roll with it and play into being a secret admirer. At the end of the week, you left a simple message for him to find and meet you. With high hopes, you waited beneath the stars. 

Theme Song: Waiting for Love - Avicii

Reader: Gender Neutral

Words: 1963

'Where there’s a will, there’s a way' kind of beautiful…

Monday morning. This was it- this was going to be the year you finally did it. You were going to ask Aizawa out even though you’ve never seen the man express romantic interest towards anyone. It was a shot in absolute darkness, but after pining for so long, it would have been worse to let the crush start to fester.

Before heading to your office, you stopped by the teachers’ area, hoping to see Aizawa seated at his desk next to Yamada’s. No one was there. Coats hung on the back of chairs, coffee cups sat on a few desks, but all the teachers were out. Maybe they all had a meeting before classes started? You hung around for a few minutes and leaned against his cleared off desk, looking at the rose and rolling it by the stem between your index finger and thumb before placing it down. Beginning to second guess yourself, you held the edge of the desk as you sighed, closing your eyes as the excitement turned to anxiety.

A glance at the clock alarmed you, and you immediately stood up and half ran out, seeing that you stayed a full 5 minutes longer than you intended to and were now late to your first meeting. You finally slowed to a walk and composed yourself before rounding the corner of the hallway to your office, a student waiting outside for your one-on-one.

By the time lunch came around, five minutes late turned into twenty, and to make up for it, you decided to eat in your office while completing the paperwork that accompanied each student evaluation you did. As you carried your meal past the teachers, you overheard Aizawa getting teased in their gossip.

“He just stood there, staring at and then started working around it because he didn’t want to move it!” Present Mic laughed, making Midnight giggle.

“Really, Eraser? It was just a rose,” she snickered. “Honestly, it’s so surprising that you’ve got a secret admirer. Out of all the single teachers here, someone’s longing for you.” Midnight clicked her tongue with a playful roll of her eyes. “It’s about time.”

“It was probably meant for someone else. I’ll leave it alone so the person can find it where they left it.”

You’d forgotten about that rose when you checked the time, and didn’t have a moment to think of it again until you were reminded. Before giving yourself the chance to step into that conversation, you quickly returned to your office. Being a secret admirer never crossed your mind- you were much more direct than that. If you didn’t have to catch up on work, you would have interjected or spoken with Aizawa when you saw him, but if you wanted your afternoon to run on schedule, that would have to wait.

At the end of the day, you stopped by classroom 1-A to see if he was in, but once again found an empty room. You scoffed at your luck, amused for thinking that it must have been a sign that you shouldn’t confess your feelings. Sign or no sign, you were stubborn, and once you decided this was going to happen, there was no stopping you. As you left U.A., you began to think about what you overheard during lunch. Hell, why not?

Over the course of the week, you had masterfully avoided Aizawa. You were caught by some of the staff members, but it didn’t take much to convince them to keep quiet and let this secret admirer business play out. In fact, they thought it was kind of cute and even helped you out. At one point, Kayama texted you that Class 1-A was on the training grounds so you could stop by and place a cheesy card at the podium. Yamada actually gave him one of the gifts for you and teased his friend a bit with the knowledge he withheld. Fortunately for you, that withholding only went one way.

“I never thought I’d see the day Aizawa had a secret admirer, much less the day that he actually expressed interest and curiosity about it,” he casually mused, reclining on the chaise in your office. “You’ve got him looking over his shoulder, and it’s precious.”

“Looking over his shoulder? You make it sound like I’m scaring the man,” you chuckled.

“Well, you probably are a little bit. He’s never been courted like this. The last person who sought his affections ended up repelling him more than enticing. But at least he’s not running away from the thought of having a secret admirer.”

The words struck a bit of a chord with you. It never occured to you that you could end up pushing him away in playing into the accidental role you embraced.

“When do you plan on revealing yourself anyway, (Y/N)?”

“I was thinking tomorrow, but I haven’t exactly thought of how to yet. None of this was actually planned at first,” you laughed as you confessed that. Yamada sat up and looked at you with raised brows and obvious curiosity, prompting you to explain. “I never intended to be a secret admirer. I just forgot the rose on his desk because I lost track of time and was late for my first student. I nearly interjected at lunch when you and Kayama teased him but didn’t have the time, and when I went to tell him after school, he wasn’t where I looked. All signs pointed to not telling him, but you know the saying, right? Where there’s a will, there’s a way? Well, the secret admirer way seemed like fun.”

Yamada listened as you explained the chain of events for the first day, a smirk pressing onto his lips at the end. “It’s certainly been fun for the rest of us. You’ve caught his attention more than anyone else who’s tried. He’s started anticipating things and tries to get Midnight and me to give you away,” he laughed, standing up. “Shouta’s kinda cute when he’s like this. I almost don’t want you to own up to it, but he deserves the pleasant surprise. I’m sure you’ll think of something good for the big reveal.”

You spent the night thinking of how best to come clean, and by the time it came for your delivery, it was incredibly simple. At the end of the day, Aizawa returned to his desk with a single rose on top of a folded note. Actually, it was a map that highlighted a neighborhood. Giving him your address would be far too easy, and even though he could probably look up which staff members lived in that area, you simply hoped he wouldn’t. Accompanying the map was a crisply penned poem:

Roses are red, and stars shine bright. With the roof, my bed- will you find me tonight?

All that was left for you to do was wait. That’s how secret admirer stories always ended, right? With waiting, high hopes, and a rendezvous?

As night settled, you climbed onto your roof, watching the last of the sunlight disappear. Stargazing was one of your favorite ways to unwind- and you had one of the best spots. Despite Tokyo being incredibly polluted with light, from your little section of the world it seemed like the citylights were just a bit dimmer so you could see the stars. You laid back with a large blanket spread out beneath you, pillow cushioning your hands as they cradled your head. If he didn’t come and everything ended tonight, at least you would be here- one of your favorite places to be, enjoying one of your favorite things to do.

Losing yourself in the constellations, you could have sworn you saw otherworldly dashes of light from one star to another. The longer you stared, the more tricks your mind played. Maybe that was why you enjoyed laying out here so much. At any other time, you fully trusted your head, but in the quiet stillness beneath the stars, you occasionally doubted it. You could afford to doubt it in a time and place like this.

“Y’know, your roof might not be the safest place to stargaze.”

You blinked and turned your head to face the voice, meeting the hero perched on the telephone pole next to your home. With parted lips, you stared at him for a moment. He brought your head back down from the clouds, yet you felt like the reality you returned to was surreal. Aizawa actually came to find you- and what’s more, he bothered to let you know that he did.

“Yeah, and powerlines aren’t the safest surface to run on,” you smirked at him, coming to terms with the moment. After all, this is what you hoped for. “You might actually be safer over here with me. What’dya say?” You sat up and scooted from the middle of your blanket to the side, patting the open space after inviting him to join you.

“I suppose having a hero join you would make the scenario safer,” he agreed, hopping over the gap from the roof and post effortlessly. You swore this man knew how to fly, or at least got damn close to it without having a quirk that made flying a possibility. As he settled into the blanket, you offered him the pillow you were using, helping him get a little more comfortable.

“Just so you know, because you’re over here… you’ve basically accepted the fact that I’m going to cuddle you.”

“I’d hope so, after a week of dropping hints.”

Your cheeks warmed with a blush at his words. His answer sounded so casual, like it wasn’t a big deal at all. Turning his dark eyes to you, he gave you a gentle smile that the moonlight made even softer. He placed one hand under his head on the pillow, and outstretched the arm of his other, inviting you to his body. Without hesitance or making him wait, you laid on your back beside him, using his bicep as a pillow. As you got comfortable, he wrapped his arm around your shoulder, letting you rest your head on his muscles.

For a while, you two gazed at the stars and talked constellations, pointing out new ones and revisiting the stories of old. Gradually, you turned more and more into him, your head slowly moving from his arm to his shoulder, and then from his shoulder to his chest until you were hugging him on your roof and being held in return. Starry words turned dreamy, and in the hours you two laid together, confessions of adoration and budding infatuation surfaced.

Aizawa saw to it that you made it inside safely, watching as you climbed down and through your window. Once inside, you leaned out to look at him, only to watch him lower himself upside down to you. A smile pressed onto your lips seeing him like this, his hair hanging completely out of his handsome face. Looking tired wasn’t something people typically found attractive, but he didn’t look tired even with dark circles under his eyes. Despite being sleep deprived, his mind was sharply awake, and that carried his fatigue with graceful strength. His scarf only slightly drooped down over his mouth, a good deal of the length used to harness him safely. With one hand, he pulled the scarf back, revealing a smile beneath it. You leaned forward, your hands preceding you and carefully taking hold of his face. Gently you kissed him, the angle foreign but the feeling welcome. Just barely, you felt his lips purse back against yours as he returned your affection.

“Goodnight, my starry-eyed admirer.”

…and if there’s love in this life, there’s no obstacle.

[sapphicscholar]

A/N: I've already written several fics with an already out Alex meeting an already out Maggie (including the one for day 1 of the last Sanvers Week!), but why not do one more! I went a little experimental with form to make it different... little angsty, plus some smut, hope ya enjoy!

Chapter Preview

Week 1. Maggie found herself beyond grateful for the months she and Alex spent getting to know one another before accepting this mission. It was one thing to go undercover at an alien fight club for a single night with someone she’d only known for a few days. It would have been quite another to sleep in a tent for days on end chasing leads and running surveillance with a near stranger.

But no, Alex was far from a stranger. She was a friend, certainly, though the word felt insufficient in some way—perhaps the way her ex had hinted at when she gently pulled her hand from Maggie’s before they’d even gotten to the restaurant and told her it was clear there was someone else. There hadn’t been, at least not in the way Caitlyn had assumed there was. But Maggie could admit there was some frisson of…of excitement or attraction or, hell, maybe just arousal that crackled between her and Alex—that spark that made long days pass quickly enough, that made the frustration of hunting for hints of Cadmus activity that may or may not be found feel bearable.

Week 2. Alex didn’t think of herself as a prissy person. But after 10 days of trekking through forests and mountain ranges looking for signs of Cadmus, she wanted a shower. Not more splashing, those half-assed baths with chill water and industrial bar soap stored in a ziplock bag that left her feeling cold and barely more clean than she had been before. The only time she felt warm was at night, curled up in the tent with Maggie, their sleeping bags zipped together and the only noise the low hum of the small generator powered by alien elements meant to last for three months. God, she hoped the trip didn’t last a full three months.

Week 3. Maggie tried not to remember how good meals that didn’t come out of pre-packaged rations tasted. Every so often, though, a sensory memory would trick her into anticipating something better than DEO-issued, dehydrated food that she could only think to describe as bland, gray, functional. There was the whiff of some fir trees that brought her back to Christmas mornings past, to the plates piled high with eggs and, at that time in her life, bacon, and, during some years when she begged hard enough, pancakes made into Mickey Mouse head shapes, smothered with butter and sticky syrup. Then there had been the first sip of hot tea—Alex had stood for what felt like ages boiling water over the tiny fire that was as big as they dared while keeping a low profile, then dropped in two of the earl gray teabags she had shoved into an outer component of her backpack. Earl gray wasn’t even Maggie’s favorite tea—she’d take a good rooibos over it any day—but it had been Emily’s tea of choice, and the first sip brought her back to what felt like the last happy meal they’d shared together—a spread of dishes from the new Indian restaurant that had opened on their block, the meal turned into a picnic on their living room floor just before Maggie got the promotion that started taking her away from Emily more and more.

There were no deep flavors here. There was only more of the same as they soldiered on together. Day in. Day out. The list of locations checked and inspected growing longer without yielding anything more than frustration. And oh the frustration was palpable—even more so than whatever was simmering between them. Even after miles long hikes, Alex would excuse herself for evening walks. The days Alex didn’t get time to burn off energy felt like existing beside some deep faultline—trying so hard to exist and hold it together the way it should, but so close to crumbling when outside circumstances shook things a little too hard.

Week 4. On day 24, Alex told Maggie about her father, about why everything mattered so much to her, about why their failures registered as so much more than absent spaces. Because they weren’t absences. Every set of coordinates reached with nothing to show for it weighed on her, stayed with her, returned to her in those moments she took for herself to weep and scream into her fist and rage at the world that would take her father away and send back some shell of the man he once was.

On day 24, when Maggie held her and stroked her back and let her do and say what she needed, even with the tears and the snot and the cursing that broke apart into incomprehensible fragments, Alex decided that Maggie Sawyer was someone she could love. Someone who could matter to her as much as Kara. Someone who could be family.

On day 25, Alex sat and listened as Maggie told her about her family, about growing up in Blue Springs and being outed and being sent to live with her aunt. She heard about relationship after failed relationship, about all the ways Maggie didn’t think she deserved happiness. Alex shook her head and held Maggie’s hand and tried to make Maggie understand how achingly good she really was, all the ways she made Alex want to be a better person.

On night 26, Alex opened one of the chocolate bars Kara had insisted she bring for “bad days” and split it straight down the middle to share with Maggie, who put up a token resistance until Alex managed to slip a small bite between her lips, grinning as her whole body seemed to melt with the taste. They huddled in the sleeping bags and stayed up together for hours telling stories and sharing memories better than the ones that had colored their past two evenings. Even though there were still no signs of Cadmus, Alex finally felt like there was something in her life she might be able to classify as progress.

Read the rest on AO3!

[gukyi]

i’ll give you my heart | myg

⇒ summary: gift exchanges are cool. gift exchanges with your ceo-slash-best friend min yoongi are less cool, because what the hell are you supposed to get the man that already has everything? 

or, the three times that you could find something material to give to yoongi, and the one time you had to think outside of the box.

⇒ {christmas!au, friends to lovers!au}

⇒ pairing: min yoongi x female reader

⇒ word count: 6k

⇒ genre: fluff

⇒ warnings: none

⇒ a/n: here she is!! first off, shoutout to everyone who voted for this in that poll a while back. secondly, shoutout to everyone for being patient with me while getting this fic out. here it is, in all of its fluffy, soft glory! it’s also 1k longer than i thought it would be. big rip. 

i. 

Yoongi and you have had this tradition ever since freshman year of college, where you would spend Christmas together, holed up in whatever room the two of you decided to share because both sets of your parents (and other relatives) were always busy around this time of year. Not to mention, you went to university across the country. So that’s a thing. You become recluses for a day, confined to a building or a room, and spend the entire day exchanging gag gifts and watching Christmas movies, drinking your entire body’s weight in hot chocolate.

It’s a pretty fucking great tradition, if you think about it. Nothing better than spending a day with the one person you could never get sick of.

Things began to change once the both of you moved out of the dorms, Yoongi’s fabulously wealthy parents hooking him up with a sick apartment right off campus, in the heart of the city. Human nature had always taught you to be envious of the things other people had that you did not, strive to be greater than them, but human nature can suck your left toe, because you’re happy that Yoongi’s happy and lives a better life than 99% of the human population. Kid deserves it.

You’d then begin to spend your Christmases at his place instead of the shitty dorms at the university, his place always extravagantly decorated for the season. Yoongi really spares no effort. What a guy.

And now it’s senior year of university and Yoongi’s only gotten bigger. So has his place, because he upgraded.

He upgraded and you’ve literally spent the entire break thus far lounging around at his house, eating through his cupboards, which are now devoid of all the ramen in the world. Seriously, he needs to get more. Thank God you didn’t make the same mistake you did last year, which was leaving all of your Christmas shopping until the last minute, because you ended up buying Yoongi a gigantic tin in the shape of a gingerbread man, filled to the brim with little gingerbread cookies inside. Like a gingerbread Russian doll. And you don’t need a gingerbread Russian doll repeat this year. This year, you swear you have a gift that’s worth giving to Yoongi.

His house is so damn big that you’re afraid you’ve hidden his gift somewhere so discreet you won’t even remember where you put it. It’s nearly midnight on Christmas Eve and you’re going to have to make up some excuse to scurry off and find his present since the two of you have done absolutely nothing all day except pig out on store-bought Christmas cookies and watch Elf over and over and over, to the point where you have definitely memorized the entire movie.

You’re lying together on his massive couch, big enough for at least four other people to fit onto it as well, your feet resting in his lap as you mindlessly stare at his television, letting the movie play in the background haze of your mind. It’s so natural for the two of you to be so close, at this point.

“Oh shit, it’s almost Christmas,” Yoongi blurts out after checking his phone, catching you off guard.

You squint your eyes as you peer at the clock under his television, only to be greeted with the fluorescent sight of 11:58PM.

“Oh shit,” you repeat, immediately scrambling up because it’s tradition that you do your gift exchange at midnight on the dot, and you are wholly unprepared.

“Miss something?” Yoongi taunts as he calls after you, watching you run down his massive hallway in nothing but an ugly Christmas sweater and pajama bottoms. Your bare feet are cold on his hardwood floor, but you don’t really mind, not when Yoongi’s body can warm them right up.

You fish through one of the many closets in his hallway until you snatch your gift up, pristinely wrapped in some festive paper. When you return to his living room, Yoongi is proudly waiting with a massive box beside him, your name written in obnoxious letters across the side of it.

“Holy balls,” you say, mouth dropping open. His gift could probably swallow yours up, if it tried hard enough.

“Merry Christmas, Y/N!” Yoongi shouts happily, though you can barely hear him, brain blocking out everything except the sight in front of you. you don’t know what on this godforsaken Earth Yoongi could have gotten you that looks to be the size of a small apartment (you’re kidding, it’s just double the size of you), but it’s here.

“Merry Christmas, Yoongi,” you say in response, holding out your gift to him warmly.

“Wanna open yours first, or should I?” He asks as he sits down on the couch. You follow him happily, curling up beside him, signaling that you want him to go first. He complies, ripping off the wrapping paper in the most ungraceful way possible. “You got me a Banksy book?” He asks, wonder lacing his features as he looks up at you.

“I know how much you love his work,” you admit sheepishly, recalling the one time you had taken a trip to New York City, remember him pointing out all of the graffiti that decorated the sides of the buildings. “I thought you’d like it.”

“I love it, Y/N, holy shit,” he says, and the way his face glows in the dim light of the living room warms your heart right up. Yoongi beams, his face illuminating, whenever he is truly happy, and nothing brings you more joy than knowing you’re the source. He envelopes you in a crushing hug, catching you by surprise as your palms to go rest on his chest as he engulfs you in his arms. “You always know me so well.”

“I try my best,” you admit when he lets you go, hand going up to rub the nape of your neck.

“Your turn,” he says excitedly, placing the book down beside him as he turns to face your gift. He pats his lap in anticipation as you get up, a little wary. You have half of a mind that whatever this thing is is going to come to life like a Christmas horror movie and brutally murder the both of you.

“How the fuck did you manage to wrap this thing?” You ask as you approach the box. It must have taken enormous amounts of wrapping paper to cover.

“With faith, trust, and Pixie dust,” Yoongi deadpans. “Open it!”

You find where the wrapping paper ends, and tear at it until you’re faced with an overwhelming pile of crumpled up paper beside you and a massive brown box.

“Merry Christmas!” Yoongi cheers, standing up. “I got you a box.”

“I’m touched,” you joke, knowing that there must be something in here. “For real, what the fresh hell is this, Yoongi?”

Yoongi just shrugs, being absolutely no help at all. You reach over to open the box, and when you take a good enough look inside, you see a fluffy bear head.

“No fucking way!” You shout as the realization dawns on you. One great tug and out pops one of those massive teddy bears, the ones that are double the size of you and the ultimate Cuddling Machine. You remember going to Costco with Yoongi a while back and mindlessly telling him that you always wanted to own one of those huge bears, and, well, looks like Yoongi remembered as well.

“Do you like it?” Yoongi asks, hopeful.

“Are you kidding? I love it!” You tell him happily, resisting the urge to collapse on the bear in a flurry of giggles and fluff. “This is amazing, Yoongi!”

You reach over to give Yoongi the same bone-crushing hug, only you lose your footing on a loose bit of wrapping paper and find yourself dragging him down with you. You land comfortably on the plush tummy of the bear, arms wrapped around each other.

“I could stay like this forever,” Yoongi admits, succumbing to the cuddliness that is the massive giant bear.

“Me too,” you agree, not taking your hands off of him as the beginning of Christmas slowly passes you by.

ii. 

First Christmas out of university and, to be honest, you don’t really know where to begin. Yoongi’s taken after his father’s hugely successful instrument company—biggest in the nation—CEO-in-training as he learns to navigate the ropes of business life. You, on the other hand, are just living your best life, getting by with a job you don’t hate but you don’t particularly love either, and crashing with Yoongi most of the time. Your roommate’s nice and all, but she has an awful lot of sex for someone in her mid-twenties, so you find yourself sexiled more often than just plain kicked out.

Not that Yoongi minds you show up at his door, ever. It’s practically wide open for you, and he could be in the middle of a Very Important and Serious business phone call and happily toss his studying aside if you knock on his door. You think it’s a bit unhealthy, how he puts his definitely overbearing best friend ahead of the company that basically determines the fate of the rest of his financial life, but that’s on him.

He says that you’re a respite from the crushing pressures of business life, and you say that he needs to start worrying more about his company’s financial stability and less about his annoying best friend.

But it doesn’t matter, because Yoongi’s already got more money than he knows what to do with.

At this point in your long-term friendship, you don’t even knock on his door to alert him of your presence. Knocking is for friends who haven’t quite reached that stage of relationship yet. Knocking is also for chumps. You type in the passcode that opens his creepy automated door that talks to you if you get particularly lonely, and walk inside.

Despite the sheer massiveness of Yoongi’s mansion, you can hear his voice clear as day. It’s literally Christmas Eve and he’s screaming to someone on the phone, in that No-Nonsense Business Voice that definitely gives you the jitters. You hate hearing him like this, when he’s all serious and “I want what I want when I want it”, because it makes you feel like he’s a different person. Business Yoongi and Best Friend Yoongi are scarily different, but they both have that same determination, same wonder.

It’s still a bit freaky, though.

You’re standing in the middle of the foyer of his mansion, looking like a lost puppy, when he turns a corner and sees you, the phone pressed up against his ear. You send him an awkward wave, making absolutely no effort to disguise the box in your hand that is clearly his present.

“Um, can I call you back to get the details of the deal?” He asks to the person on the other end. “Make no mistake, I want this to happen, but under my conditions, not theirs. Got it?”

With that, Yoongi hangs up, and his furrowed brows immediately relax at the sight of you.

“Hey,” he says, voice a lot less intimidating. “I didn’t think you’d get here for another hour.”

“I wanted to surprise you,” you reply, pouting. “But you don’t seem that excited to see me.”

“Believe me, Y/N, I’m always excited to see you,” Yoongi says, breathing out a hefty sigh of relief as he pulls you in for a hug.

“Poor Mr. Min,” you mock, bottom lip drowning out your top one. “Busy busy busy businessman. You seem stressed, my good dude.”

“I am,” Yoongi huffs out. “God, you’re a sight for sore eyes, you know that? I’m so glad to see you,” he says, keeping you close to his body as he rocks the two of you back and forth. It’s a little romantic, terrifyingly so, and you resist the little voice in your brain that tells you to keep hugging him, savor the feeling, and tug yourself away.

“What’s up, hey?” You ask as you wander into his massive, state-of-the-art kitchen that even Gordon Ramsey would envy. Through his enormous, Plexiglass windows, the sun is setting against the frozen horizon.

“Ugh, nothing,” Yoongi says as he whips out two Minute Maid Lemonade cans for the both of you. He seems to have an endless supply, thank God, because it’s the only drink the two of you never get sick of, other than, of course, hot chocolate. “I’ve just been having this tussle with another production company. We’re trying to negotiate a deal on our marketing systems but they won’t budge.” He collapses in the bar stool next to you. The two of you open your cans at the exact same time, clinking them together before downing them.

“Want me to fight them for you?” You offer helpfully.

“You’d probably do a better job of scaring them into agreeing with me than I would,” Yoongi supplies.

“Oh, are you kidding? Have you even heard yourself when you’re all business-y?” You ask rhetorically. “You’re all serious and scary. It’s kind of terrifying, to be honest. If I didn’t know you so well, I’d avoid Business Min Yoongi at all costs.”

Yoongi chuckles. “Glad at least one person thinks that way.”

You give him a nudge, almost making him choke on his lemonade. “Give yourself more credit, Yoongi. Have a little faith. You’re a great businessman, you know. If you weren’t, your father wouldn’t have retired so early.”

Yoongi smiles softly at your words, and you know you’ve done your job.

That night, Yoongi makes the two of you a quiet Italian dinner (he insists it be called that, when really it’s just linguine and a Caprese salad that you could have made yourself in five minutes, given the ingredients) and the two of you eat on his mildly-stained nice leather couches, tinted with the remains of hot chocolate spills and popcorn butter.

Oh, these couches have seen better days. Days where you and Yoongi aren’t as messy and try to behave just like normal human beings and not weird best friends. Days like that don’t happen very often.

The Christmas movie of choice is The Polar Express, which, if you’re going to be totally real with yourself, freaked you out severely up until you were about sixteen. You don’t know what the hell it is, but the way the characters were animated had goosebumps appearing on your skin. You swear you’re not scared of a silly kid’s movie anymore, not as you settle into his couch for the night, piles of blankets wrapped around you, but Yoongi takes the liberty of teasing you anyway.

“Scared of Santa?” He asks, playing with your feet under the blanket.

You kick at his leg. “You’re such a little asshole. Do your employees know that?”

Yoongi scoffs. “They think I’m the Lord and Savior, the Jesus Christ of the country’s biggest instrument company.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” you remark. All hostility aside, you eventually settle into his arms as the day draws to a close, letting yourself curl up next to him as you find yourself dozing off to the movie. It might be the second or third time you’re watching this stupid movie, you just can’t help yourself—the sound of bells is tiring.

Yoongi keeps you awake, though, poking and prodding at your chubby cheeks to make sure you don’t conk out on him, keeping you awake for your tradition of the Midnight Gift Exchange.

Midnight rolls around and Yoongi gives you a pretty heavy shove to jerk you awake, one that has your arm extending out in instinct and hitting him straight in the nose. If this were anyone else you just totally smacked, you’d be apologizing, but the sight of Yoongi scrunching up his nose and blinking like that White Guy Meme has you on the floor, in tears.

“You’re such a sadist,” Yoongi comments as he gets up to retrieve his gift. You’re still laughing.

Eventually he returns with a box that scarily resembles the size of your own, and oh god, you have a feeling you know where this is going. He settles down beside you, the soles your feet matching up under the blankets, and on the count of three, as Christmas Eve turns to Christmas, you hand them to each other.

It’s unclear to both of you who rips open their gift first, but when you look down at yours to find a scarily expensive necklace, your heart stops. You remember dragging Yoongi into one of the high-end jewelry stores in the clean part of town, musing to him about how much you’d love to be able to afford a necklace or something from a place like this. One had caught your eye, a silver locket with a heart chain so delicate you’d probably live in constant fear of breaking it.

That same necklace rests in the box in your hands, right now.

Meanwhile, Yoongi is staring down at the watch in his hands, awestruck, making the blood rush to your cheeks as they heat up from the sensation. Yoongi never asked for that watch, but you remember him complaining about breaking his favorite one two weeks ago. Knowing him all too well, you had a feeling he wouldn’t get around to replacing it before the new year.

“Yoongi…” you begin, trailing off unhelpfully. You simply lack the right words to say. Or any words, for that matter. You recall staring down at the hefty price tag of this silver necklace, imagining only owning it in your dreams, and here it is.

Yoongi has more money than he knows what to do with, but you can’t quite put a finger on the feeling of him spending it on you. It feels too familiar, like he’s done it before and he’ll do it, over and over. You never ask him for expensive things like this but he gives them to you anyway, and it’s foreign and wonted all at the same time.

“Do you like it?” He asks, leaning over. “I remember you telling me you wanted it, at that jewelry place.”

“I love it,” you say, wishing that your words were a little more eloquent and a little less blunt. “But, why did you—?”

“I wanted to, Y/N,” Yoongi supplies, as if that’s any help. “You deserve it. You got me this sickass watch, after all.”

“You broke yours two weeks ago because you’re a dumbass,” you joke.

“It’s gorgeous. It’ll go great with my new hair,” Yoongi comments, staring down at the gift in his hands.

“New hair?”

“Didn’t I tell you?” Yoongi asks, smirking. “I’m going platinum for the new year.”

“My god, your hairstylist is probably shaking,” you say, shaking your head. Yoongi chuckles, taking the necklace from your delicate fingers and wrapping it around your neck, fastening it at the back. The action is soft, gentle, and it has you turning around to face him in something akin to confusion and wonder, like there are so many dreams on the tips of his fingers.

“I’m glad you like it, Y/N,” Yoongi says happily. “It looks good on you. What are you going to put inside of it?”

“A picture of us,” you respond. “It only seems right.”

iii.

It’s becoming increasingly more difficult to get Yoongi gifts. Not that it hasn’t always been difficult, because it has. Kid owns everything, and you refuse to stoop as low as a gift card for something as special as Christmas.

It’s tradition.

You’ve spent the last several months hunting for something for Yoongi, something meaningful that he doesn’t already fucking own, and every time you go shopping, you come up short. It’s just so damn hard to pick a present for Yoongi that isn’t some ridiculous gag gift, because while Yoongi does love a good fake piece of shit, it’s not something that should be a Christmas present.

What makes matters worse is that you don’t make nearly as much money as he did, not that that’s ever been a problem before. You’re perfectly fine with where you are, financially, at least, but the Christmas season always reminds you that Yoongi is willing to buy you the moon and the stars if you ask for it, and you have trouble dropping cash on a new blender.

Ah, tradition.

Tradition also happens to consist of you finally getting to have your sweet, sweet revenge on your roommate for Christmas Eve, kicking her out of the apartment for the next two days so that you and Yoongi can have the place entirely to yourselves. She says goodbye with a whistle, hinting at something that you don’t want to know about.

Sure enough, not much later Yoongi is buzzing into your apartment, voice hazy on the speaker. You let him up, hear him knocking on your door hardly a minute after.

“Hey, stranger,” Yoongi says, little box tucked under his palm. Oh God, if he’s gotten you another necklace, you think you’ll lose it. He needs to stop getting you all of these expensive things.

“Oops!” You respond, pretending to shut the door on him. “I thought you were the pizza delivery guy.”

“Damn, pizza sounds good,” Yoongi says, barging his way in. He’s been over hundreds of times before, but strangely enough, you feel small in his presence. Like your apartment just isn’t good enough in comparison to his mansion of a home. The feeling is brief but very much there, and you’re hyperaware of it as Yoongi collapses on your couch and plucks a chocolate from the complimentary bowl on the coffee table. He unwraps the Dove and pops it into his mouth, smiling into the taste.

“Feet off of my couch,” you order playfully, grabbing your already-prepared bowl of popcorn and sitting next to him, using one hand to swing his legs off of where they’re resting on the arm rest so you can fit.

If you were at Yoongi’s place, both of your feet would be on his gigantic couch, big enough to fit your entire extended family without many compromises. But you’re not, and the two of you have to resort to resting your feet on the floor like peasants instead of kings.

“God, is this the crappy popcorn?” Yoongi asks, surprisingly excited for such a strange question. When you nod, he beams. “Nice. I love that smell of fake butter. It gets me hard.”

You’re at the point in your relationship where out-of-the-blue sexual comments like this hardly faze you, but still, you giggle at his random remark. You hold the bowl out to him, and he happily plucks a handful from it, shoving it all in his mouth at once as you channel surf to find whatever shitty Hallmark movie is playing.

You don’t really watch the movie this time, too busy trying to chuck popcorn bits into each other’s mouths (turns out you’re a lot better at this game than he is) and crunching down on unpopped kernels. Your dentists are shaking. They really are.

Yoongi’s right, shitty popcorn really is the best popcorn, because it’s rich and fattening and tastes sort of like cardboard. Like, the good kind of cardboard, if that’s a thing. You can’t seem to stop wanting more, and pretty soon you’ve gone through the entire box of popcorn bags before the night is even over.

“You ever think we’ll stop doing this?” Yoongi asks randomly.

“Doing what?”

“Watching crappy Christmas movies and spending the night at each other’s places and exchanging gifts at midnight,” Yoongi elaborates.

God, you hope you never stop doing this. Other than your immediate family, Yoongi is the one constant in your life. He’s always been there, he’ll always be there, even if he tries to get away. You won’t let him escape from you, not when you’ve made so many memories together already. He’s your best friend. You wouldn’t trade him or his presence for anything in the world. All this tradition does is confirm that, confirm the way you feel about him. Confirm that he’s it, he’s the end game. You’ll go through a hundred other friends but he’ll always be by your side.

It’s a strange feeling, knowing that someone will always be there. It’s like you have nothing to worry about.

“I hope we don’t,” you say, letting your head rest in the crook of his neck, between his shoulder and his chin. “I love doing this with you.”

“Me too,” Yoongi says, reaching an arm around you to rub at your side. “Christmas season is always busy for me, because everyone wants to buy their kid an instrument but at a discounted price, but you’ll always be there to calm me down.”

You hum in thought.

“Even when I’m about to lose it, you’ll always be there to save the day. I know you will.”

Soon, the shitty Hallmark movie on your beat-up television is ending, signaling the end of Christmas Eve as you know it.

“Oh, you know what that means.” Yoongi grins, winking at you as he whips out his gift. You don’t have much to give him in return, just a thin envelope you hope will be worth your while. “Who’s first?”

“I am,” you say, handing Yoongi the envelope you were hiding behind your back.

“What’s this?” Yoongi asks, eyes curious as he opens it, pulling out a certificate. His brows are furrowed as he reads through it, eyes squinting (kid forgot his glasses, how typical of him), but then his cheeks turn a bright red shade and his face begins to glow. “You bought me a star?”

“The one and only,” you say proudly, happy to see that he’s happy. “I know it’s not much, but I wanted to do something fun for you for Christmas—”

He hugs you, something that happens way too often these days, and you hear the crinkle of the paper certificate as he wraps his arms around you. “I love it, Y/N. I do. No one’s ever gotten me a star before. You’re brilliant.”

“What are you going to name it?” You ask him innocently.

“I’m gonna name it after you,” he says warmly, eyes crinkled up into a smile. “You’re the only sun in my life.”

You can do absolutely nothing except scoff, the noise hopefully covering up the sound of your thumping heart at his words. He’s always been cheesy like that, you swear. You swear that nothing’s changed.

“What did you get me?” You ask, motioning to the little box Yoongi’s playing with in his fingers.

“Oh, nothing,” Yoongi says, handing it over tentatively. As you begin to open it, his hand shoots back to the nape of his neck in nervousness. You wonder what on Earth could be in this box.

When you open it, you’re greeted with a note. Just a note amongst a bunch of that gift-basket shredded colored paper.

Please let me take you out to a fancy dinner party I was invited to, it reads. You’re the only person I’d want to go with.

“A dinner?” You ask, an eyebrow raised.

Yoongi grimaces. “If you don’t want to, um, you don’t have to. It’s just—they want me to have a plus one, and you’re the only person I’d want to take. We can go shopping beforehand, for a nice dress for you. If you’d like.”

You don’t go to dinner parties much and you’re not exactly sure how you feel about Yoongi spending his hard-earned money on something as trivial as a dress you’ll only wear once, but unsurprisingly, something akin to a date with Yoongi doesn’t seem as out of the question as you thought it would.

You set the note down on the table, smiling. “I’d love to go with you, Yoongi.”

iv. 

Christmas is cancelled.

Not really, but it’s literally the morning of Christmas Eve and you are absolutely, completely, one-hundred percent giftless. You’ve searched for months for the perfect gift for Yoongi, something meaningful and special that he doesn’t already own, that you haven’t already given him, and you’ve come up entirely short.

Needless to say, you’re in a bit of a panic. What the hell are you supposed to do, after all, when you know Yoongi’s probably gotten you something wonderfully expensive in return. What are you going to say to him? Hey, thanks for this expensive gift I don’t deserve, I didn’t get you anything but you can have my undying friendship?

Oh yeah, what a great way to start off Christmas.

Come to think of it, you don’t really deserve Yoongi. You don’t. You never have, not since freshman year of college when the two of you were just nervous underdogs, little fish in a very, very big pond. Even then, when you had no idea that Yoongi was the son of the CEO of the biggest instrument company in the country, no idea he had money to burn, when you thought all he could give to you was the love and support in his heart, you didn’t deserve him.

You don’t deserve him now, when he is so giving and kind to you, a ray of sunshine in this decaying world. When he buys you expensive things not because they’re expensive, but because he thinks of you when he sees them. When he has so much love to give to you and you can hardly provide him with half of it in return.

You don’t live like him, you can’t give him expensive things to celebrate his birthday or Christmas because that’s just not your reality. All you can give him are things touched by your love, your appreciation for your friendship, the generosity between the two of you that it’s based on.

If you asked him, Min Yoongi would give you the world. If he asked you, you’d wish you would.

You wonder what it is about him that draws you to him. Cements him as the end game, because you could never imagine a life without him by your side, without his sarcastic yet sage wisdom guiding you every step of the way. It’s not his money, because if it was, he’d have figured that out by now. It’s not his status, either, because even during freshman year, when you knew nothing about each other other than your favorite types of ramen, you knew that he was it. It’s Yoongi or nothing, and you’d rather lose everything than lose him.

It’s so strange. It’s always been like this, really. You always knew that Yoongi was meant to be in your life, but things are changing now, and you wonder if the way Yoongi acts as a part of your world is the way it should always be. Question whether or not he might be on this Earth, part of the life that you live, for a different reason.

The dinner party last year really switched things up. People there, Big Business Moguls who would faint if they found out about your commoner status, thought the two of you were a thing. An item, if you will. You were Mr. and Mrs. Min Yoongi, despite there being no ring on your finger.

The most peculiar part about it? Neither of you made any effort to stop the comments, explain that you were just friends. You just took it, went with it and happily obliged. You walked around that night with aching feet, almost tripping over the expensive dress you were wearing at least ten times, and with your arm wrapped around his. Like a real couple.

Even now, you don’t think you’d mind it. You don’t. You wouldn’t mind being a couple. You don’t see how it could change anything, how giving a different label to the relationship that the two of you share would make it all that different. But even now, when you think of Yoongi, you think of his bright smile, his warm brown eyes. The way his hair feels soft under your touch despite being dyed countless times. How your head fits perfectly in the crook of his neck.

The door opening in front of you snaps you out of your trance. Yoongi’s standing there in all of his Christmas glory, decked out in a terribly ugly Christmas jumper with a beaming glow on his face. You’re empty-handed when you walk in, though if Yoongi notices, he makes no comment about it. He probably thinks you’ve already stowed away your gift in his place, somewhere where he’s too lazy to look.

“Can you believe it’s already our seventh year doing this?” Yoongi asks.

“No, I can’t,” you admit, surprised at how fast the time passes by, how it feels like nothing at all when you’re by his side. “Feels like just yesterday we were just freshmen in college, trying to navigate our way through the semesters.”

“Damn, what a time,” says Yoongi fondly, reminiscing. “Since we’re starting a bit late today, let’s skip the part where I make a shitty dinner and go straight to movie watching.”

“Hmm…” you say, pausing as you pretend to think on the suggestion. “Sounds good. What are we watching?”

Yoongi presses a couple of buttons on the screen on the wall that he’s got hooked up to his entire electronics system in this house, something that you have no idea how he did. Rich people. When you turn to face the television, you see the menu screen for Love, Actually.

“Love, Actually?” You ask, an eyebrow raised.

“What?” He asks defensively. “Can’t always watch shitty kids’ movies. Besides, I wanna make jokes about that one kid who looks like he’s five even though he’s like twenty.”

And so, with hot chocolate warming your palms and milk moustaches decorating your lips, you settle in for the night, curling up together under layers and layers of blankets as the movie begins.

This is such a common occurrence, cuddling together like it’s no big deal, but for some reason, this time there’s something else there. Something you can’t quite pinpoint, not as Yoongi wraps his arm around you to pull you closer. Not as he makes constant jokes about that poor young-looking fellow, or drinks his hot chocolate until he’s scraping at the sides for more.

And then it’s nearly midnight, and the guy on the screen is professing his love for the woman who speaks broken English, and you realize that this is it. This is how you want to spend every holiday season, with Min Yoongi by your side. Curled up together like two birds of a feather.

This is when you realize you know exactly what you’re giving to Yoongi, and it’s more meaningful and special than any other gift you can think of. One that doesn’t cost you a cent, just a bit of courage and a little bit of charm.

The movie ends at exactly midnight, and Yoongi claps his hands together cheerfully, getting up to get his gift for you. When he returns with a large, relatively thin box, your heart skips a beat, and momentarily, you wonder if the gift you’re giving him will compare.

“Guess I’m opening first, then?” You ask, and Yoongi nods, handing you the item with a delicate touch. He sits back down, eager to see your reaction.

You remove the lid of the box to find an absolutely stunning guitar, gleaming from all angles as it catches the Christmas lights that decorate Yoongi’s house. It’s gorgeous, a model that definitely cost Yoongi upwards of several thousand dollars, and all you can do is stare at it.

“Do you like it?” Yoongi asks, pressing closer. “I know you wanted to learn guitar. I thought this would be a good first step.”

“Yoongi, I—this is—” You say, unable to form even a coherent phrase with all of your stuttering. Now you’re really not sure if your gift can compare to this, to this absolutely stunning instrument in your lap and the breathtaking boy who gave it to you.

“If you want, I could teach you,” he helpfully adds, as if you need further convincing of his gift’s greatness.

“I love this,” you tell him, too scared to even lift it out of its box. All you want to do is ogle it, stare at it until your eyes bleed. It’s too beautiful to be played. You pick it up and gently set it down on the floor beside you. “I don’t—I don’t know what you’ll think of my gift. Or if you’ll even accept it.”

Yoongi shakes his head in disbelief. “I’ll love anything you give me.”

“Take my heart.”

“What?” Yoongi asks.

“Take it. It’s yours,” you tell him. “My heart is all yours.”

“Y/N, I don’t understand—”

“I’m giving you my heart, Min Yoongi,” you murmur. “Because it’s filled with love for you, and only you. You’re the only person my heart belongs to, so take it. Because I love you.”

Before you let him say anything else, you’re leaning over to him, pressing your soft lips on his in something of a playground kiss. It’s just lips on lips, gentle touches that convey nothing but love in them. Yoongi makes a noise of surprise but easily allows his body to give way, and out of the corner of your eyes you can see the way the blush creeps onto his cheeks.

When you part, you’re greeted with that eye-smile that you love so much, one that radiates a heavenly glow.

“I love you too,” he whispers back, soft enough for only you to hear, just in case the world may be listening in. This is a secret between friends. Between lovers. Between you. “I always have. Take my heart, too. It belongs to you.”

“Merry Christmas, Yoongi,” you murmur, staring up at him with nothing else but pure adoration. He’s it. You knew he always was. It’ll always be him.

He beams back, warm and bright, and it feels like home. “Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

And sitting there, as the world slowly turns around you, you think that this might be the best Christmas yet.

⇒ hmu with feedback or just talk to me here!

[oneflewovermyhouse]

Snitches Get Stitches: An Ode to The Elf on the Shelf

You better watch out
You better not cry
Better not pout
I’m telling you why
Santa Claus is coming to town

That’s it. That is all parents have needed since 1934 when John Frederick Coots and Haven Gillespie wrote this endearing and menacing ditty to threaten children into the submissive state that is good behavior. It has been recorded more than 70,000 times since its inception, which speaks to the utter desperation of parents everywhere to get their kids to get their proverbial shit together for just one month. For the most part, it works, however fleeting the results are.

For some reason (most likely the desire to cash in on parents’ hopelessness at the holidays), in 2004, Carol Aebersold and her daughter Chanda Bell decided to write The Elf on the Shelf, a book that looks to be a classic Christmas tradition of yore, but is in fact a modern manifesto that cheerfully serves as a reminder to children young and old that Santa is essentially Big Brother that is reminiscent of the Patriot Act, or at least Facebook. The presence of an omniscient fat man that either delivers toys or coal to kids based on their behavior apparently was no longer enough. Now, he needs a sentinel to literally watch over children to ensure compliance. It was as if we asked kids to believe all these years, they began to doubt the monitoring referenced in Coots and Gillespie’s anthem, we placed a creepy elf doll on the mantle, and those same kids all of a sudden collectively gathered that shit just got real.

The elf watches over the children and reports back to Santa all of the wonderful behavior and deeds that the children have exhibited, right? Well, if he was honest in his reporting, I think Christmas morning would look a little different in most households. I want to honor the traditions of central Europe and host a miniature Krampus on my shelf. Krampus is paired with Saint Nicholas, but instead of rewarding children for good behavior (a seldom occurrence in my house), he punishes the children for ill-behavior in the forms of lashing with branches, eating them, or transporting them to the depths of hell – ya know, jolly stuff. Think about it – if you are good, you may get another video game, however if you are bad, a horned, anthropomorphic figure described as “half-goat, half-demon” with fangs will come for you in your sleep. Put that bastard on your bookshelf, and see how things go.

Ok, so now we have an elf and a book – not all bad. There are rules? Are you kidding? I have to move this damn thing every night to continue the magic, or is it to tell the kids that nowhere is safe? It says Elf on the Shelf; why can he not just sit in one place for the season…on the shelf? Every night, at approximately 11:00, my wife and I look at each other when we realize we have not moved them (yes, we have two), and we utter some four-letter word and argue over whose turn it is to relocate the spies. We used to get creative like everyone else and have them in cute scenarios like eating fruit, hanging from chandeliers, or taking marshmallow dumps, but over the years we have gotten to the point that if we move them to a different room, we deserve Parent of the Year. Hell, my kids have bought them clothes – if that’s not pouring salt on a gaping wound, I’m not sure what is. So, now we have incorporated wardrobe changes into the equation – awesome.

“Oooh look, Twinkles is wearing her sparkly scarf with boots and a snow hat.”
“Cool! Jingles is wearing his skis and goggles. But where is his leather jacket?”

I also like coming home after work, and my kids ask me if I found them yet. It takes every ounce of me to not look at them and say, “They’re probably right where I put them last night, unless they truly are magical.” But, I don’t. I look around with my feigned look of curiosity and anticipation until I come upon them in the location where I left them. I make some comment about the mischief the little a-holes have gotten themselves into, and then continue with the afternoon. Magical, right?

The scenarios have gotten especially mundane as well. It’s no longer, “what are they doing today?” but more like, “where are they sitting now?” Besides, how can they keep a watchful eye if they are having a sack race with Iron Man and Barbie? They have work to do; this is no time for play.

At this point, I usually wrap up my blogs with some redeeming feel-good synopsis much like Doogie Howser, M.D. did after every episode as to how he pined over Wanda and chummed it up with Vinnie. Not this time. I hate the Elf on the Shelf. I hate what they stand for. I hate the labor involved in maintaining their “magic”. And, I hate that they “watch” my kids all the time – that’s my job. When we were kids, we were told to behave because Santa is watching. Now, he has a felt-clad army - that retail for $30 at Hallmark – that do his dirty work for him. If I were a kid, I wouldn’t want an elf. Those nosy little bastards have no business spying on me 24/7. Snitches get stitches. #Krampus2019

[bbparker]

🎄 Choose Me (Tony Stark x Reader)🎄

[Christmas Special]

Summary: What happens when (y/n)’s husband Tony is called away at Christmas, ruining her surprise for him?

A/N: Lol idk about this one but have fun!

Requested by: @kwj-jojo

Prompt: “A mission? On Christmas? I think the fuck not, the bad guys deserve a good Christmas after all their hard work of fucking shit up…” “(y/n), no…”

Warnings: Mentions of blood, accidents, angst

Words: 2.6k

Song: Pretty Bird by Crooked Still

|| Masterlist ||

The morning sun rose and shone through the blinds, casting a glow onto Tony’s handsome face. (Y/n)’s breath hitched, still in shock that this man was hers. 6 months ago, they’d had gotten married on an impulse. There was no dress and big crowds, just Tony & (y/n) in a small church with Rhodey as their witness and this was their first Christmas together as man and wife.

Sitting up on one elbow (y/n) brushed a stray hair away from his forehead and watched as his lashes fluttered open, exposing brown eyes. “Good morning sweetheart.” Leaning down (y/n) caressed his lips with hers. “Good morning Tony.”

The moment only lasted a couple of seconds before both realised what day it is. “If I didn’t enjoy receiving free stuff so much I would have probably stayed in bed longer.” (y/n) laughs adjusting her dress in the mirror as Tony showers behind her.

“I knew you didn’t only marry me for my looks,” Tony muttered sarcastically. Turning around, ignoring Tony’s nudity, after all, it wasn’t anything she hadn’t seen before, “You know I love you for more than your pretty looks and money?”

Tony’s smile slowly widened as (y/n) leaned in and gave him a quick kiss. “You should probably see somebody about those over confidence issues, Tony.”

“You love it don’t lie!”

Entering the kitchen (y/n) graced everyone with her smile, eager for the festivities, however, seeing the looks of disappointment around the room, (y/n)’s smile dropped. “What’s wrong?”

Nobody seemed to want to answer until Tony stepped into the room. “Man, who’s soul died and is now haunting the room? Cheer up!” Steve made his way over to Tony and whispered something about seeing him alone to which he agreed. Tony turned to you and gave you a kiss on the temple before following Steve’s tall self to a room with clear glass.

(Y/n) watched as Steve’s shoulders remained tensed and slowly as he began explaining the situation, Tony’s did too. Looking around (y/n) saw almost everyone is a dampened mood, the only one willing to make eye contact with her was Vision, who didn’t seem overly concerned.

Turning back towards the two leaders, (y/n) watched as Tony nodded and sighed, both exiting the room. “Everything alright?” she asked, grabbing a hold of Tony’s hand. “(y/n), don’t get mad but, there’s a mission we have to handle immediately.”

“A mission? On Christmas?” (y/n) looked around at her team members, only Clint managed eye contact with her, giving her a sad smile. Of course, he understood more than anyone about being away from their family and the only one who knew her little secret that Tony hadn’t even found out yet. Though she wasn’t one of Avengers, she was like a mother to them all who cleaned injuries, cooked and fed them etc. Disappointing (y/n) was like disappointing their own mother.

Turning to Tony once again, who had his hands in his pockets but didn’t drop his gaze from hers, “I think the fuck not! The bad guys deserve a good Christmas after all their hard work of fucking shit up!”

Tony laughed before a scold from Steve made him rein it in, covering it with a cough. “(y/n), no… We can’t ignore this…”

“I-I know but sometimes it-it’s just not fair. You’re my husband we barely have any time together as it is… I just want you to choose me for once…”

(y/n) walked towards the elevator, pressing the button. The Avengers seemed to be trying to look anywhere but the couple but it was like watching mom and dad fight, or a car accident- you couldn’t look away.

“(y/n) I choose you, always but this is people’s lives on the line.”

Turning from the arriving lift, (y/n) backed into the elevator.

“Funny that Tony, you’re so busy with everyone else’s lives, you’re missing out on your own,” and the doors finally close allowing (y/n) a breath of relief, hand falling to her stomach as her eyes watered. Her surprise for him was now ruined and she blamed Iron Man, the Avenger, the saviour to so many but himself.

Pulling out her phone, (y/n) dialled her mom’s number. “(y/n), honey! Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas mom! I’m coming to yours for lunch it seems!”

Tony’s POV

As the elevator doors closed, Tony released a sigh before turning to see his team staring. “I think you upset mom,” Sam attempted to joke, however, it wasn’t well received as multiple people whacked him across the head or let out exclamations of ‘Sam!’.

“I’m sorry Tony, but we have to go.”

Tony just looked at the ground, shuffling his feet, before holding his head up. “Yeah, Avengers suit up!”

As Tony made his way to the lab where is numerous suits are stored, he can’t help but wonder if he really was making the right decision. The world over their life together, plus what she said back there really struck him. Her voice echoing through his head as he stood before his newest suit.

“Funny that Tony, you’re so busy with everyone else’s lives, you’re missing out on your own.”

What did she mean by that? He’d been there almost all the time, so what did she mean missing out?

“Tony… you okay?” Steve enters the room, placing a light hand on Tony’s shoulder, something he was quick to shrug off. “Yeah, perfectly fine.”

Tony was not fine, as the mission continued he couldn’t get (y/n)’s face out of his head as she glanced down at the floor, elevator doors closing; like their relationship. Finally, it distracted him to the point where a shot from a HYDRA weapon managed hit his arc reactor.  “TONY!” multiple voices chimed, however, as Tony fell from the sky at alarming speeds he couldn’t hear anyone.

As he fell (y/n)’s face came to his mind, if this was going to be it for Tony he wanted to only think about one thing. (Y/n) and the life he could have has with her, hell they’d only been married 6 months! They never got a honeymoon because Tony had been too busy with the Avengers, they hadn’t been able to celebrate either of their birthdays either. Suddenly, Tony felt a sinking feeling that wasn’t from the rapid ground approaching. It was the fact that (y/n) was right.

Something solid greeted Tony as he welcomed darkness, a quiet plea in the form of (y/n)’s name falling from his lips.

“Hey Ma”

“Sweetheart! It’s good to see you, where’s that husband of yours?”

“He’s on a mission…”  Her mum gave her a look of disapproval like (y/n) had anticipated. Her mother had never approved too well of the playboy and she only ever recognised the bad things he does.

“I told-”

“Ma, not now, it’s Christmas…”

Nodding her head, (y/n)’s mom walked ahead into the kitchen where their family was waiting.

When time passed and lunch was eaten (y/n) couldn’t help but shiver as if something was wrong. “You okay (y/n)? It’s not that cold in here is it? I thought I turned the heaters on…” Her dad said running a hand up her now gooseflesh arms. “Yeah dad, I just got this really weird feeling…”

The room went strangely silent as her family looked at her, a phone suddenly interrupting the silence. Despite the once cheery atmosphere, the phone now echoed in a haunting silence. (y/n) picked her phone up to see it was Steve’s private number which he barely ever used. Something was wrong.

“I-I… I have to take this…”

Walking quickly outback, (y/n) shivered again because of the cold. She couldn’t see anything, not the snow nor the concerned family members peeking out the window, too concentrated on his voice.

“Steve?” (y/n) asked softly.

“(Y/n), I’m so sorry- it shouldn’t have happened but none of us could… could get there on time- “

“What are you saying, Steve?”

“(Y/n) … the mission went wrong- “

She stopped listening. When a member of the team said, a mission went wrong, which rarely happened, someone usually ends up gravely injured or… even passed. She cried into the phone, “Steve, where is he?”

“(Y/n), I’m so sorry…”

“STOP SAYING YOU’RE FUCKING SORRY! Tell me where my husband is!” She screamed into the phone, tears falling freely now.

“H-he’s at the compound, Helen Cho and several doctors are trying to- “

(y/n) hung up on him and ran back inside, grabbing her keys to her car and running to her car. Her family called her but she didn’t listen. Putting the car into gear (y/n) went twice the speed limit, no thought to her condition only focussed on getting back to her love.

The last words she yelled at him echoed through her mind.

“I just want you to choose me for once…”

“Funny that Tony, you’re so busy with everyone else’s lives, you’re missing out on your own.”

How could she say such things to him? She knew he loved her, she knew he’s always put her first but what about the other families suffering out there? How could she be so selfish? Seeing the orange light up ahead (y/n) pressed further onto the gas watching as she went past the line only to feel a huge presence beside her. Looking (y/n) got a glimpse of headlights her first thought running to her precious bundle to arrive in five months’ time.

“No...” she whispered as a loud honk filled her ears and all she saw was white.

Stepping on the gas further (y/n) felt the jolt before the truck just nicked the boot of her car. Breathing out rapidly in shock, (y/n) pushed on taking the straight road to the Avengers facility up north.

Arriving, (y/n) turned the car off and ran inside, pushing through the crowd of workers, even knocking people over and to be met with shouts. She, however, had no care. Her husband was severely hurt of dying, she’d be damned if anyone gets in her way. Arriving at the elevator (y/n) almost broke the button pushing it in and the same process occurred inside the elevator; some people even slightly backing away from the slightly crazed looking woman.

When (y/n) arrived at the door, she nearly broke the door down because they opened so slowly but once there had been a space big enough for her to squeeze through she was gone. Running down the multiple halls, (y/n) stopped at end of the hall to the wing specifically reserved for the Avengers.

Stopping (y/n) saw the team gathered in the seats, still in their uniforms and some even bleeding but refusing attention. Nat tilted her head back but stopped halfway as she spotted a dishevelled woman at the end of the hall, mud coating her shoes and the bottom of her jeans.

“(y/n) …” Nat whispered but everyone’s head snapped up to her like she had screamed. Walking forwards slowly, (y/n) felt no more tears as she approached His door, refusing to acknowledge the team.  Clint walked slowly forward and as he tried to rest a hand on her shoulder, (y/n) turned and slapped it away, glaring.

“Don’t touch me, anyone.” Making eye contact with every team member and hearing the calls of multiple people, (y/n) turned to see a window into Tony’s operating room. “Oh, no...” She covered her mouth as sobs racked through her body seeing his blood on the doctor’s hands.

“This… someone tell me this isn’t real, this isn’t happening…”

(Y/n) felt a presence behind her, strong arms wrapping around her waist and bringing her to their chest. At first, she fought, pushing them away but when their hold was unrelenting, (y/n) let go. Sobbing, Steve caught her as she fell, pulling her into him once again.

Burying her head in his chest, she sobbed for Tony, for anybody to tell her this isn’t real. Looking up into Steve’s eyes, she saw tears in his eyes. “S-Steve?”

“Y-yeah?”

“He-he c-can’t die…”

“(Y/n) he won’t, the doctors are- “

“No Steve, he can’t…” A fierce fire had lit within (y/n)’s eyes and in seeing this Steve frowned. She was trying to tell him something that she just wasn’t getting. Slowly, (y/n) took his hand and bought it to her stomach as his eyes widened feeling the bump that wasn’t so obvious in her flowy shirt.

“Oh, my god.” Steve gathered his arms around her and brought her to his chest once again, slightly lifting her up. “He’ll make it (y/n) … he will.”

Make it he did. (y/n) sat next to Tony’s bed with her hand holding one of his casted ones. It had been a week since the accident and every day (y/n) hoped for him to wake up, yet every day his chocolate eyes remained closed.

A soft knock came from the door making (y/n) jump and turn to find Steve waiting with two coffees in his hands. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

As Steve entered, she returned to her position. Setting the drink in front of her, Steve chose the seat behind (y/n) and there they sat for the next four hours. (Y/n) couldn’t bring herself to leave this spot beside her husband. What a betrayal on their vowels they’d made not too long ago. (Y/n) had promised to stay by his side no matter what and when things got a little rough she fled, like a weakling.

Kissing his hand lightly (y/n) closed her eyes. She didn’t deserve Tony, he was willing to risk his life for other people, other expectant mothers like herself and she’d been so selfish to have him to herself. Little she’d realised Tony was an international person who couldn’t belong to one, there was too much to him for one alone.

She couldn’t blame anyone. Not Steve, the Avengers, Iron Man… this was her fault. Was she distracted because of what she’d said to him? It was almost guaranteed to go wrong is someone’s headspace was in the wrong place.  

Hearing a small gasp and quiet talking; (y/n) cursed Steve. “Steve, I love you but please shut up. I am trying to concentrate on not having an emotional breakdown; don’t know if you know but it takes more brain power than I originally thought. Damn, now I’m the one talking too much…”

Silence followed before a light chuckle followed, definitely not belonging to Steve causing (y/n) to look at the smiling face in front of her. “You know, you should probably see somebody about your emotional state…”

(Y/n) couldn’t help it she burst into laughter before happy tears started falling, “You love it, don’t lie.”

So, his smile grew as he observed her face. Beautiful, he thought. “I’m so sorry Tony. I overreacted. I know you would choose me in a heartbeat but I was acting too selfish to see it.”

Tony’s gaze softened as he watched her eyes tear up further, drifting slowly towards the Super Soldier exiting the room before returning to his beautiful wife once again.

“What happened, Tony?”

“Someone got a lucky shot,” Tony said, not wanting to feel her guilt she undoubtedly felt because he’d been distracted by their fight. (Y/n) shook her head before catching a glance of something and smiling back at Tony.

“Also, I wanted to give you some news, I was supposed to tell you on Christmas day but since you’ve been on the mission and… sleeping for a week, I haven’t been able to tell you- “

“Wait, a week?”

“Yes…?”

“I’ve gone to sleep and woken up in the future? Amazing.” (y/n) smacked him lightly laughing along with him before realising he was injured. “Oh, my gosh Tony are you okay? I just hit you and- “

“I’m fine (y/n), now what’s the news. Has my great aunt passed away and left me a great fortune?”

“Tony, you don’t have a great aunt.”

“Has my boyfriend come for me?”

“I can go and get Steve if you’d- “

“What about my sister, not my dear Julianna,”

“JESUS TONY I’M TRYING TO TELL YOU IM PREGNANT!” (y/n) yelled finally.

A silence ran through the room as Tony stared wide-eyed at (y/n). “What did you say?”

“I said… I’m pregnant.”

“Is it mine, wait don’t answer that.” Smacking him again they laughed before Tony’s eyes focussed in on (y/n). The way she laughed, head tilted back sometimes a snort would slip past her.

“But really, how far along are you?” Tony asked smiling happily at his wife. “Nearly five months now.” Tony’s shocked laugh came through as he looked at the roof, eyes glassed over. “Well, how about that…”

“Tony…”

“Yes, sweetheart…” Tony’s eyes seemed to have softened incredibly, yet he also appeared to have aged a couple years due to the stress of a mission and their argument.

“I found out the gender a couple days ago…It’s a boy.” Another shocked laugh left his lips as a joyful face greeted (y/n). “You’re incredible, (y/n).”

“I think you mean we are…”

“I love you, more than anything (y/n) and I also have news for you but you’ll have to lean closer.” Smirking, (y/n) leant closer, “yes?”

“We’re going on that dang Honeymoon as soon as I’m out of here.” A loud laugh escaped (y/n)’s mouth, “whatever you say, Honey.”

Tags:

@kamala-khaan @beautifullybarnes @bxchananbxcky @daffodilparker @dorkychris @shamptain-shmerica @spideyydarling @bucksies @pctemaximoff @numsreads  @true-queen-of-mischief @mistlethor @ugh-supersoldiers @hellomissmabel

@eliza-hamilton-helpless @purelittleblueberry @iamwarrenspeace

@fuck-my-marvel @jahanana @feelmyroarrrr @asexualmarauder @theharrisontomytom @shippingfangurl @ironmanlover24 @come-with-me-and-imagine @alwayshave-faith @savmontreal @somebody-stuff  @sev7en @whatthehellisacastiel 

[fanfic-scribbles]

Something To Gain

A/N: I wouldn’t call it angst but I wouldn’t necessarily call it fluff? I would call it fluff-ish. A moody little piece set around Christmas. Also probably way too long, but such is life when you suck at editing.

Summary: Dean and Reader share a drink on a cold December night and discover that playing it safe is not playing at all.

Quick facts: Romance fic – Dean/Reader – Nondescript Reader – Christmas-ish fic

Warnings: Brief Sastiel. It is in the beginning and ends after a couple of paragraphs, aside from a brief mention elsewhere. If it bothers you that much please exeunt stage right or left, I will not hold it against you.

Words: 1451

    It’s a quiet and chilly night in mid-December. You’re thankful for the quiet; after last week’s grave dig-a-palooza, trying to crack into cold ground in Vermont for multiple sets of bones, you’re happy to let your body rest. You plan to sit down on your bed with a warm drink and zone out to a movie on your laptop, or idly browse on your phone. Maybe both.

As you turn into the kitchen though, your plans are derailed when you see Sam and Castiel. Sam is leaning in close, saying something soft to the angel whose eyes are drooping low as his hand smoothes out over the hunter’s. They’re lost to the world in a silent intimacy that almost takes your breath away. They disappear suddenly –whisked away by Castiel, no doubt. You smile at that. After everything, the two of them certainly deserve some peace and happiness.

Your plans, no longer derailed, still shift tracks. You put together your drink but make another, add a splash or two of alcohol to both for some extra warmth, and set out in search of the other occupant of this strange household. You glance around the library as you pass, not really expecting to see him, but there he is.

Dean’s sitting at a table, his temple resting on his fist, and he’s staring blankly at an open book. His eyes are open but he doesn’t shift an inch to turn the page while you stare unabashedly as his deceptively smooth face catches the light and shadows just right. When you first met Sam and Dean you didn’t know how their faces stayed so nice and unblemished. When you met Castiel you sort of understood– sort of. Even an angel can only do so much and this life is harsh. You yourself have more scars than you care to count. But Dean, he’s got a face that wouldn’t show what a hard life he’s lived. He could escape; do anything other than hunt the dark things in the night.

But you know his soul says otherwise.

You shake your head and force yourself to move. It takes a few moments of holding the drink right next to his head but slowly, surely, he blinks and glances at it. He sits up and takes it, flashing you a smile. “Thanks, sweetheart.” He sips. “Little light on the content, though.”

You roll your eyes and take a seat at the head of the table, technically sitting next to him but still with enough distance to ease your ever-present nerves. Since Sam is too occupied to scold you, you lean back in your chair and rest your feet on the table. “This drink is for sipping, not gulping.”

“Fair enough.” He leans back in his own chair and green eyes glitter in the light as he holds up his mug. “What are we drinking to?”

You shrug and raise your drink. “Um…Sam and Cas finally pulling their heads out of their asses?”

Dean snorts. “After what I witnessed in the kitchen yesterday I almost wish they hadn’t.”

“The kitchen again?” You frown. “Is there mistletoe in there or something?”

He looks at you with a flat expression. “Do they need an excuse?”

“Fair enough.”

“How about…” He smirks at you. “To the two single losers spending their Saturday night in a library?”

You move your drink to his and they hit together lightly, both of you mindful of the hot liquid within. Dean shuts the book and moves it away and the two of you settle into easy silence only occasionally punctuated by meaningless chatter. It feels good. Not a lot does these days– it’s sort of expected; the ebb and flow of hunting does sometimes (sometimes often) bring about the question of ‘what the hell am I doing with my life?’ to which you answer either ‘the only thing I can’ or ‘what needs to be done to help people’. Both of them bring their own sense of moroseness, but you find what you need to keep moving on. Teaching Castiel more about the world he now calls home, listening to Sam geek out about something (sometimes just to tease him about it later), or just spending any second you can with Dean.

Dean who has always held a special something over you, whether it’s his powerful green eyes or the way he can make a flirty comment like it’s nothing. You’ve never had the courage to follow any of it through and Dean has never acted like he’s minded. If he’s even really interested you think he might be as afraid of that as you are, and that’s probably not how a relationship can work.

But you wonder if that’s how a relationship can start.

“Penny for your thoughts?” he asks.

You chuckle. “I think you’re overpricing yourself there, considering the content.”

“I already adjusted for inflation,” he says and winks.

You smile. You put your drink down on the table and lean back, stretching before you put your hands behind your head. This time when he watches you, like he’s looking at a pretty thing in a bar, you feel…baffled. Still, you act nonchalant, even though his gaze makes you feel anything but. “Just wondering why you’re part of the ‘single losers in a library’ club,” you say. “You could be out on the town if you wanted.”

“Hm.” He shrugs and puts his mug on the table. “Maybe.”

You shrug. Shit; he’s shutting down. “It’s not a criticism. Just a comment.”

“What I meant was…maybe the town doesn’t have what I want.”

His look is intense again and you’re not imagining it. The way he’s looking at you. You look at him sideways and he smiles at you, in that thin way he does when someone –a cop, a witness, a whatever– isn’t telling him what he wants to hear. What he knows. “You could too,” he says. “Be out. Getting someone to keep you company.”

You give his smile right back to him. “I know the town doesn’t have what I want.”

“Oh?” he says and takes another drink, even though it must be cold by now.

“You don’t have to play dumb, Dean,” you say and he stops moving. “It’s okay. I’m not the kind of person that gets who they want.”

He squints, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “What makes you think that?”

“I’m not your typical partner.”

“Yeah, well…who says you aren’t what I’ve wanted all along?”

You stare at him, willing yourself not to show any emotion. None at all. He stares back just as intently and though you wait for a smirk or a wink…they don’t come. You swallow a lump forming in your throat. “Don’t say shit like that unless you mean it, Winchester.”

His eyes don’t leave yours. Even as he puts his drink on the table, even as he swings one leg over your lap and sits, straddling you. He’s heavy but nothing you can’t handle. But then he leans in closer, putting his arms around you, essentially caging you. You still don’t look away; you’ve stared down bigger and badder.

You think.

He leans in to press his lips to yours and it’s the tenderness that almost kills you. His lips move against yours, asking you to open, and you do, thinking it will become hard and demanding but Dean is still so soft, moving slowly enough to taste you. You match his pace, not knowing what to expect, not knowing what any of this is or means, but damn if you aren’t going to enjoy every second of it. Just in case.

After a while he pulls his head back and you stare at each other. He’s breathing heavier, like you, and you wonder if he has to slow his heart before it comes out of his chest, like you. Soft lashes drape across his half-lidded eyes and when he huffs, you feel the little puff of air. “I’m not the only one afraid to lose.”

“I never said you were,” you say. You’re not sure you even said that much, but Dean Winchester has always been too smart for everyone else’s good. You let your eyes drift back to his full, soft lips and you lick your own in anticipation. “But what exactly are you afraid to lose?”

He smirks and leans back in so that his nose is pressed next to yours. You can almost feel his eyelashes. “Right now…I think I’m more afraid to lose out.” He kisses you again and it’s still tender but more forceful, more real; it’s Dean, giving himself to you, and you hesitate only a moment before you give yourself in return.

[msgenevieve447]

Walking in a Straight Line Ch 17 - a little sneak peek

*rubs hands together nervously*

I don't usually do this (although I do love it when other authors do it) but I feel this will hold me accountable to finishing Chapter 17 in a timely fashion. Also, this story is set during Thanksgiving/Christmas, so it feels like as good as time as any.

HERE IS A SNEAK PEEK OF THE NEXT CHAPTER OF MY NEVER-ENDING AU WIP.   You can find Chapter Sixteen HERE to refresh your memories because it has been 84 years.  The line of poetry (mis)quoted at the end of this sneaky peek is by John Donne.

~*~

Kathryn’s eyes widen, a sure sign Emma’s actually managed to surprise her for once. “You want two weeks’ vacation time so you can go to England for Christmas and New Year?"

“I know it’s last minute, and I totally understand if it’s not possible-” Her hands hidden behind her back, Emma crosses her fingers as she offers her employer a bright smile. It’s an old habit from her childhood she can’t seem to shake, no matter how many times it’s been proven the gesture doesn’t make a wish come true.   

“That’ll be fine.”

Emma blinks. On the other hand, maybe there was something to finger crossing after all. “Seriously?”

“Why the hell not?” The other woman flashes her a knowing smile as she reaches for the laptop on the desk in front of her. “Who am I to stand in the way of true love?”

Heat prickles at the nape of Emma’s neck. She’s always admired Kathryn’s ability to read people, but it’s never as much fun when that laser sharp gaze is trained on her. “Oh, I-” she begins, then breaks off, because there’s no way to finish that sentence without incriminating herself.   “Thanks. Really, I mean it.”

“Don’t mention it.” To Emma’s relief, her boss quickly returns to her usual brisk self.  “God knows you deserve a break after helping take down your ex, and to be honest, I was thinking of closing up shop for the holidays and taking the kids to Vermont to see Freddy’s parents.”

The passing mention of Walsh invokes the usual internal shudder, but Emma shakes it off, something that gets a little easier every time.  “Sounds nice.”

“Oh, his parents hate me,” Kathryn announces with blatant satisfaction. “Having me there will totally ruin their Christmas, I’m quite sure, so it will be nice.”  She flicks a glance in Emma’s direction. “Shouldn’t you be booking some flights right now?”

A flutter of nervous excitement (it’s not dread, definitely not) uncurls in her belly at the mention of flights, and her smile feels a little pasted on as she takes a step backwards in the direction of her boss’ office door. “Your in-laws still don’t approve of Freddy being a kept man?”

The other woman scoffs, her fingers already flying over her laptop keyboard. “You’d think they’d be grateful their son bagged himself a rich heiress and has the luxury of helping raise their beautiful grandchildren, but there’s no pleasing some people.”  

Back at her own desk, Emma goes through her usual morning routine, flicking through the Midas Bonds database and flagging several new tips that have come in from their usual sources.  If nothing else, it’s a good distraction from the niggling anxiety tugging at her insides.  She should be ecstatic she’s just managed to swing two weeks’ vacation time at very short notice, but instead her head is filled with everything that might go wrong on this trip.

What if they turn out to be terrible travelling companions? How much togetherness so soon in their relationship is too much?  What if she has one of her stupid foster home nightmares while they’re staying at Liam and Annie’s and she wakes the whole house up?  She tries ignoring the most insistent unwelcome thought, but like these things always do, it keeps coming back again and again.

What if Killian’s family doesn't like her?

Emma frowns at her laptop. She’s met Liam only once before, years ago, and they’d got along just fine, but that was during a fleeting trip to Boston and involved nothing more than a drunken dinner at the local bar that had left her with a memorable hangover.  She’s never met his wife, but Killian has already assured her more than once that she and Annie will ‘love each other’. 

Hmmm.

She works steadily for the next two hours, pretending her phone isn’t buzzing with incoming messages, before finally admitting to herself that she’s read the report on a new skip three times without absorbing a single detail.  Taking a deep breath, she picks up her phone and scrolls through four – no, five – texts from Killian.

How did it go with Kathryn?

Perhaps you’re out catching a villain.  I shall be patient.

Swaaaan.  Can we start packing our winter woollies? Don’t leave me in suspense love!

My brother just asked me if I’d mucked up our relationship yet.  Twat. Perhaps we should just go to Paris instead.

Emma, are you there?  Everything alright? :(

Her heart wobbles at the sad emoji at the end of his last text. This morning she’d promised to let him know straight away if Kathryn agreed to her taking some time off, so what the hell is she doing? 

Panicking that things are moving too fast, that’s what she’s doing, she thinks darkly.  She shouldn’t be surprised.  It’s been her MO for so many years, and it seems old habits can be very hard to break.

“I need coffee,” she mutters to herself, then gives herself a mental slap. What she needs is to talk to the sender of those text messages and let him calm her ruffled nerves - something at which he excels - and soon she has her phone pressed to her ear, willing him to pick up.

“So, was I right?”

She blinks.  Not exactly the greeting she was expecting, she has to admit.  “Hello to you, too. Were you right about what?”

His chuckle drifts warmly down the connection. “Were you were out catching a villain this morning?”

The boyish glee in his voice makes her smile. “Sorry to disappoint, but I was chasing down leads from my desk.”

“You haven’t been able to speak with the lovely but stern Kathryn as yet?"

“No, I talked to her earlier,” she admits, then presses her lips together, catching her tongue too late, because now he’ll think-

“Ah. She said no, I take it?” There’s a soft sigh at the other end of the phone line. “I’m sorry, love. I would have asked you sooner, but things between us weren’t quite there -”

Unable to bear the disappointment in his voice a second longer, she cuts him off.  “She said yes.”

Damn it.  Her tone sounds flat, even to her own ears, and she winces. There’s a silence that stretches out for a little too long, making her squirm, then he clears his throat. “Excellent news.  Shall I book the flights?”

Nervous anticipation swoops through the pit of her stomach once again, her fingers tightening around the phone in her hand. “Um, I’m not sure what day my vacation starts yet.”

“Swan.”  That one word is infused with a wealth of gentle emotion, and she feels her eyes blur hotly. “What’s wrong?”

Nothing about this conversation is going how she wants it to go.  “It’s nothing, it’s just - can we talk about flights and stuff tonight?”

“Emma.”  Again, his voice is beyond gentle, and she’s very glad Kathryn’s office door is now shut, because she’s pretty sure her face is flushed to go with her teary eyes. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t feel ready to do, and that includes spending Christmas with a gaggle of Joneses.” 

She can't help her loud sniff, but suddenly she’s smiling. “No, it’s good. I want this. I really want to go.”  Just like that, just like always, his simple words managed to cut through to the heart of the issue without making her feel like an overemotional wreck. She knows she’s still got a lot of self-preservation techniques to unlearn, but as he’s told her more than once, he’s a patient man.  “I don’t know about a gaggle of Joneses, though. Isn’t it just Liam and his family?”

His answering laugh is more of a scoffing sound.  “Considering our erstwhile father’s penchant for philandering, anything’s possible, but I’m fairly confident you’ll only have to deal with one other Jones brother on our Christmas adventure.”   Before she can reply, she hears a muffled sound at the other end, as though he’s covered the phone with his palm, and his next words confirm her deduction.  “Sorry love, duty calls. See you at home?”

“I’ll be there.”

Whoever had stepped into his office must have stepped out again just as quickly, because his voice takes on a sultry tone that has her toes curling in her boots. “With bells on, I hope?”

She grins, snatching a quote from one of the many books piled on his bedside table in their apartment, letting more than a hint of suggestion thread itself through her words. “Ask not for whom the bell tolls, Jones.”

Yet another pause, but this time she can almost picture his throat working as he swallows hard. “As long as your bell tolls for me, my darling, I’ll die a happy man.”

  ~*~

[ckerouac]

Fic: Operation Secret Santa

Klaine Advent 2017 Day 14: Nose

Also on AO3

“He’s totally the famous writer,” Kurt said.

Blaine scoffed, taking a sip of the wine.  “Why do you say that?”

“Because they keep talking about how much she wants to meet him and loves him, so of course the cute stranger across the hall is that guy.”

“Don’t you think that’s a little on the nose?”

“This is a made-for-tv Christmas movie,” Kurt laughed.  “Subtle is not the name of the game.”

“But maybe it’ll surprise you,” Blaine said.

Kurt shrugged.  “But they aren’t supposed to be surprising.  They’re supposed to be comforting.”

“And it would be the most comforting if he was the famous author she already loved?” Blaine asked.

“Maybe,” Kurt said.  “Actually, what would be most comforting would be if he was secretly the prince of a made up European country who was in desperate need of a bride but didn’t want the one he was currently betrothed to.”

“And then he realizes that he didn’t want his girlfriend because he met an American guy who worked as a barista in the coffee shop next to the house he rented to get away from it all,” Blaine supplied.

Kurt nodded.  “Yeah, and then he has to reassess these new feelings for this guy he never thought possible.”

Blaine turned to face Kurt on the couch.  “But damn all of the naysayers, he deserves to be happy.  So he and the barista finally share a kiss under the Christmas tree.”

“And then they go back to their fake country of Aldovia or Finburg and have the biggest, most extravagant gay wedding cable tv has ever seen,” Kurt beamed.

Blaine holds out his glass to toast Kurt.  “I would watch the hell out of that.”

“Right?” Kurt replied.  “We should write movies.”

“There’s an untapped market for romantic holiday stories with two male leads.”

“You just want Santa to help bring two guys together.”

“Santa’s not in this one, remember?” Blaine teased.

“Yeah, but he’d be in mine,” Kurt replied.  “Santa would play a major part.  Perhaps as part of the conflict of misunderstanding that always happens right before the big declaration of love.”

This wasn’t how Kurt had seen the evening going.  He thought they’d either sit on opposite sides of the couch, quietly watching a cheesy movie until it ended and Blaine politely excused himself in order to get home to more important things, or… they’d end up making out on the couch because Kurt had been a very good boy this year and the universe owed him this.  Instead they were planning out gay Hallmark movies and Kurt was realizing that it was getting harder and harder to just be friends with the cute coworker down the hall with the jacked boyfriend.

“More wine?” Kurt asked as he finished off the last of his glass.

Blaine shook his head.  “No, I probably shouldn’t.  I have to get home soon.  But please don’t let that stop you,” he added.  “You’re already home and I wouldn’t have to carry you up the stairs again.”

“Oh, ha ha,” Kurt replied drolly, rising from the couch ostensibly to get more wine.  The fact that it also gave him a moment to steal his expression from one of surprise was an added bonus.  He’d been so drunk that Blaine carried him up two flights of stairs?  Or was Blaine just teasing him?  Was Blaine a fan of hyperbolic teasing?  Maybe Blaine actually carried him firefighter style, thrown right over his shoulder.  He was short, but he looked sturdy.  How much sturdier would he look dressed as a firefighter?  Wasn’t that one of the Christmas movies too?  A firefighter and a cat?  “At least I’m no longer an embarrassment out in the open where everyone could see me,” he added.  That was safe enough since he couldn’t remember the specifics.  Mercedes said they’d seen him in the line to get in, after all.

“You’re not the first drunk guy I’ve helped get home from a bar,” Blaine chuckled.  “And I’m sure you won’t be the last.”

“So chivalrous,” Kurt said.  He returned with a full glass and sunk back onto the couch.  “Have you been in the Christmas bar yet?  Since I ruined that attempt.”

Blaine shook his head.  “Not yet.  I figure I’ll get in sometime before Christmas Eve.”

“Ooh, wait, you should totally go on Christmas Eve,” Kurt said excitedly.  “Because of the gorgeous Santa stripper that’s going to be there.”

Blaine’s nose wrinkled up and he shook his head.  “Yeah… no.  That’s not something I need to see with my own eyes.  I’d rather just leave that to my imagination than have it all confirmed.”

Kurt shrugged.  “Suit yourself.  But you really should go, if only for the drinks.  There are plenty of days between now and Christmas Eve.”

“Not that many,” Blaine pointed out.  “It’s why I had to get this wrapped soon.  They want them under the tree in the break room in the next couple of days.  What about you?  Have you… found the perfect something for your Secret Santa?”

Kurt sighed.  “No.  My assignment is… difficult.”

Blaine leaned forward.  “More difficult than Rachel Berry?”

Kurt had to laugh at that.  “No, difficult in a different way.  I just… it matters what this person thinks, so I don’t want to disappoint with the gift.”

“I don’t think you could disappoint anyone with any gift,” Blaine said.  “Maybe… take a hint from an interaction you’ve had together.  Something you’ve shared.”

I’d share anything with you, Kurt thought.  A drink, a bed, a box of condoms… and yet, still nothing appropriate for an office Secret Santa gift exchange.  “Yeah, probably,” he murmured as he tried to keep his mind from going too wild.  They were alone in his apartment, on the same couch, and each time they spoke Kurt found them inching closer and closer to each other.  If they kept talking long enough, one of them would end up in the other’s lap.  Boyfriend, he reminded himself.  He had a boyfriend.  Who wasn’t here.  “Maybe something sweet.”

“Something sweet is great,” Blaine said.  He turned to fold his leg up on the couch, and ended up brushing Kurt’s thigh with his knee.  “I guarantee that whoever is lucky enough to be on the receiving end of your present will love it.”

“You have a lot of faith in my gift giving abilities,” Kurt said, his hand coming down to rest on Blaine’s knee before he realized what he was doing.  

Blaine smiled.  “I have a lot of faith in you.”

Kurt realized where his hand was, but Blaine hadn’t pulled away yet.  Why hadn’t he pulled away yet?  Why wouldn’t the guy with the stupidly hot boyfriend not pull away when his hand was on his knee?  Why wouldn’t… oh, and now Blaine’s hand was on his, and he felt his breath catch in his throat.  “I appreciate the faith,” he murmured.  “I feel like this is the part where someone would come out and talk about Christmas magic,” he chuckled.

Blaine, for his part, smiled as he looked down and gave Kurt’s hand a squeeze.  “You can’t deny Christmas magic,” he said.  “Kurt, I…”

This was it.  He was going to declare his love.  He didn’t move his hand, hell, he took Kurt’s hand, so maybe he’d broken up with the boyfriend and he was going to make his move.  They were practically in each other’s lap, and the lights were low, and there was wine, and if ever there was a moment for Christmas magic…

“...there’s moment when you say to yourself…”

Kurt leaned forward in anticipation.  His eyes closed as he reached up with his free hand to touch Blaine’s cheek.

“...no, Kurt… I’m sorry.”

Kurt paused his air, his eyes opening and his hand stalling as he watched Blaine pull back.  

“I… can’t.  I’d lose everything.  I need to talk to people, get things settled.  I… I can’t.  I’m sorry.”

Kurt leaned back.  “I… yeah, of course, talk to people,” he murmured.  “Gotta get this settled by committee,” he added sarcastically.

However, Blaine either didn’t get the sarcasm or ignored it.  Instead, his expression bloomed into a smile.  “Exactly.  Yeah, great, so… I should probably get going.  Just so we don’t… you know… “

Kurt just nodded.  What the hell was happening?

“I’ll see you at work, okay?” Blaine added, standing up from the couch and grinning broadly.  “Thanks for the help.”

Kurt sat frozen on the couch as Blaine collected the gift for Rachel and left his home.  

What the fuck just happened?

[delisp]

More of You

Characters: Crowley x Reader 

Warnings: Explicit, Drinking, Smut, Fingering, Unprotected Sex, Dirty Talk, Language, Angst, Fluff 

Word Count 4,150 ish                                                     

Summary: Crowley has been thinking of the woman he met and spent the night with after the Vince Vincente Concert. He decides to see her again. This is a follow up to my story “Whiskey and You”.  

Crowley was sitting on his throne, looking both regal and terribly bored. His thoughts wandered back in time, just a few months ago, to his little nursemaid. The night had started out alright but went bad quickly but was then was redeemed by a lovely human creature. She had no idea that he was a demon or the King of Hell, and wanted nothing from him except to tend his wounds and enjoy his company. She liked him for his own charms and Crowley liked that, a lot.  He tried to separate his like for her and his like for her attention, but realized he couldn’t. He missed her. 

Crowley was startled back to reality by a lower level demon groveling for his attention. 

“What do you want?” The King demanded harshly. 

“I have the tallies of souls pledged and collected in the last year, categorized by who made the deal and correlated by…” 

 “Blah, blah, blah.” Crowley interrupted, “Just leave your findings and go.”

 “Yes, my liege.” The demon bowed low and backed away from his king. 

Crowley was weary of Hell and the demons scurrying around like manic mice, half of which were plotting to overthrow him. He stood, smoothed his jacket, left Hell and appeared outside the little dive bar where he met her. His pride wouldn’t allow him to go to her apartment.  

He strolled into the bar, confidence rolling off him like an ocean breeze off the Pacific. His eyes adjusted to the dimness quickly. He looked around before motioning to the waitress and sitting at a table. 

“I’ll have a whiskey, love.” Crowley spoke low and mellow. 

“Yes sir.” The waitress smiled and went to get the drink.  

After his third whiskey the King of Hell was getting annoyed. The bar was filling up with a younger crowd which changed the atmosphere completely. It was no longer a quiet place to sip a drink and think. Now it was noisy and playing hideous music, but most importantly, she wasn’t in the crowd. 

“Bollocks.” He muttered under his breath and went to the bar to pay his tab.

He was ready to leave, but had no particular destination in mind. He paid and walked outside. Pausing to admire the sunset, he leaned his shoulder against the rough brick wall. Crowley liked sunsets for their unpredictable beauty. Brilliant colors spreading across the sky, paying homage to the sun, like courtiers before their queen.

“Crowley?” A soft feminine voice questioned.]

He turned away from the waning sun to see the lovely nurse he’d been thinking of so often. 

“Hello darling.”  

She stepped closer and threw her arms around his neck, her head laying against his chest. His arms held her and Crowley wondered why he had waited so long to see her again.  

“I thought I was hallucinating for a minute. I have wanted to see you so bad. Every time I see a dark suit, I get excited and then it isn’t you.”

“Shhhhh, pet, I’m here. I’ve missed you too.” He soothed as he stroked her hair. 

She pulled back and looked into his face, her expression was hopeful as she asked, “How long are you in town?” 

“I’m not entirely sure love, but you have my attention while I am here.” 

“Come to my place?”  

“Of course.” She stepped beside him and placed her hand in his, wanting to touch him and needing the reassurance that he was real and with her.

 “So what's been going on in your world, Crowley?”

 “Oh the usual, making deals and keeping operations running smoothly.” He waved his hand as he spoke. “What have you been doing?” 

“Just living, you know work, family, friends, the usual boring stuff.” She leaned in closer to him as they walked and chatted.  

Crowley had missed this feeling. A sense of relaxation mingled with goodness and she was solely responsible for it. She was an amazing and beautiful woman.  

She swatted Crowley's arm, jarring him back to the present.

Crowley arched an eyebrow and looked down at her. “What?” 

“Are you bored with me already?”

“Never, darling. I was thinking of what a remarkable and sexy woman you are.” 

She smiled at his praise. “Well thank you.”  

She reached in her pocket for her keys, unlocking the apartment door. She walked inside dropping them on a small table with Crowley close behind her. Crowley turned her fully into his arms and captured her lips with his. His kiss was gentle but possessive. She wound her hands around his neck and pressed her body against his. Her mouth opened to him when his tongue teased her lips. At her submission, the King moaned. The kiss deepened and their tongues danced a suggestive tango. 

Crowley wanted to sink deep into her and stay there forever. He felt almost desperate to claim her and the way she was writhing against him made it difficult to think about anything else.  

She broke the kiss, breathing heavily. “Crowley, if you don’t fuck me soon, I’m going to explode. I need you.”  

Crowley’s eyes grew dark with lust at her words, “We can’t have you exploding, darling.” 

Her hands eased his suit jacket off his shoulders and he shrugged out of it before roughly reclaiming her mouth. Hands fumbled between them as they blindly worked buttons in a frenzy to rid each other of their clothes.

 Crowley stepped back and looked up and down her body appreciatively, licking his lips. “Such lush curves.” He smoothed his hands over her hips before cupping her ass to lift her.  

She moaned and bit her lip in anticipation.  “Ready, love?”  “I’ve been ready.” 

She wrapped her legs around his waist and held on to his shoulders to steady herself, then gave a little wiggle of her hips. Crowley chuckled low at her boldness. Not many people spoke to him so directly and it was one of the many things that he found attractive about her. 

He took a few steps forward and she felt the coolness of the wall against her naked back a few seconds before his dick plunged into her waiting core.  

Crowley fucked her against the wall, and she held on to him and met his thrusts enthusiastically. Desire pulsed through her body like an electric current. She reveled in the sensations assaulting her; the smooth wall at her back, Crowley's hands gripping her ass and his chest hair teasing her nipples as his cock pounded into her.  

She moaned and leaned her head on his shoulder as her orgasm started to build. She felt her pussy convulse and a delicious wave washed over her beginning in her core and traveling outward. Crowley's cock twitched inside her in response and he threw his head back muttering a curse as he came.  

He eased her back onto her feet. They stood close, foreheads touching as their breathing calmed. Crowley caressed the side of her face and trailed his hand down to hers, entwining their fingers.  

“I have a wonderful idea! Come on.”  Smiling brightly she tightened her grip and dragged him across the apartment. 

“Slow down pet, let me catch my breath before you seduce me again.”

 She laughed a full throaty laugh. “Oh baby, you ain’t seen nothing yet. And for the record, you seduced me with that Crowley kiss, it’s like a damn drug.” 

They stopped at the door to her bathroom. Crowley let his eyes feast on her naked body. She reminded him of a belly dancer, curves in all the right places. From the rounded heaviness of her breasts to the slope of her hips and even the light stretch marks on her tummy, she was an enchantress. Her body was made for fucking and his cock jerked, betraying his thoughts.

“Would you draw us a bubble bath?” She smiled sweetly, waiting for his answer. 

“Yes. Where are you running off to, pet?” He asked her retreating backside.  

“Not far, just taking care of the other part of my idea. I’ll be right back, sexy beast.” 

Crowley went into the bathroom and started the water in the huge soaker tub. He added a capful of bubble bath to the water, then smiled and poured in another. When it was almost half full, he climbed in and sank below the bubbles with a sigh.  

She walked into the bathroom with a glass in each hand and wearing only a smile. “Whiskey?”  

“Thanks.” 

“Hold mine while I get in?“  

“Darling, I would hold a whole barrel of whiskey, if you asked.” 

She handed him both glasses and gingerly climbed in the tub, before bending over to turn off the water.   

“What a glorious view. Alas, my hands are full of whiskey and not that beautiful ass of yours.” 

She looked over her shoulder and smiled at his comment before settling in the bath between his legs and leaning back against him.   

“I’ll take my drink now, sir.” 

Crowley handed her a glass and then took a sip of his. “What is this?” 

“Glencraig Scotch Whiskey. My brother introduced me to it. Now we buy each other a bottle every year for Christmas.”  

Crowley kissed the side of her neck. “Craig is my favorite.” 

“Are you surprised that I have good taste? I picked you out of a crowd, didn’t I?” 

 “Touche’, my pet.”  

Drinking his favorite whiskey in a tub full of bubbles with her was close to heaven and far better than he felt he deserved. He knew that if she were to ever find out the complete truth about him, he would lose this. He would lose her. 

She felt him sigh and turned slightly to look at his face. “What are you thinking about that makes you sad?” 

A lie sprang ready to Crowley’s lips, but he decided to be honest. “Nothing this good lasts in my life. I’ve had more rough spots than smooth.”  

He looked like a sad little boy that had lost his puppy, not the powerful man she knew him to be. It was endearing, but also heartbreaking. She wondered at some of his secrets, but trusted he would tell her when he was comfortable. 

She didn’t know what to say, so she picked up the bath poof and shook it at him. “Wash my back?” 

Crowley smirked and took the poof from her. He set their unfinished drinks on the tub tray and she scooted forward to give him space to work. He dipped the poof in the water and rubbed it across her back slowly making lazy patterns.  

“Mmmmmm, that feels good.”  

“Your back is lovely.”  

The poof traveled from her lower back to her right shoulder, water and bubbles cascading over her shoulder and down her breast. She leaned back against him, closing her eyes. Crowley trailed the poof from her neck, over her breasts and down the valley between them to her stomach.  

Her expression was one of contentment. Crowley abandoned the poof and wrapped his arm around her waist pulling her snugly up against him. He nuzzled her neck before kissing her in the hollow of her collarbone. His hand slid from her waist and slithered down between her thighs to find her clit.  

She spread her legs instinctively for him. He loved how trusting and responsive she was. His finger teased her clit and moved lower dipping inside her before moving back to her clit. He nibbled and kissed her neck while his finger rubbed tight circles. 

Her hands were on his thighs alternately squeezing and rubbing. She moaned and squirmed against Crowley as he rubbed her pleasure nub then tweaked her nipple with the other hand. 

“Come for me, love.” His beard scratched the tender skin of her neck as he spoke low and raspy in her ear. 

“So close.” She moaned. 

Her stomach muscles tightened beneath his arm and he heard the hiss of her breath through teeth heralding her orgasm. Crowley closed his eyes and leaned into her neck, holding her against him and feeling her body move and then relax as bliss overtook anticipation.  

She cradled Crowley’s face in her hand and turned to kiss his cheek. “Thanks, sweet man.” 

“My pleasure, darling. Come let's get out of the tub, the water’s cooling and I'm hungry.”  

She stepped onto the bath mat, glistening with water droplets, and handed Crowley a fluffy towel before wrapping one around herself. He toweled off and wrapped the towel around his waist. 

“What are you hungry for, Crowley?” 

He laughed and said, “How about pizza? Do you know a good carryout?” 

“Actually, yes. Are you picky about toppings?” 

“No, not at all. Surprise me.” “I’ll phone in an order.”

And she blew a kiss his way as she sashayed away in search of her phone. 

Crowley walked out of the bathroom and looked at her bed, thinking about the last time he was here with her. He had been suspicious of her even during the sex. Afterwards, he watched her sleep and somehow he knew she had no ulterior motives. 

There was a pair of black silk pajamas laid across the end of the bed. He dropped his towel and stepped in the silk bottoms. As he tied the waist, he heard an electric guitar whining a sexy blues riff. He tossed the towel in the hamper and noticed his suit had been picked up from the floor and neatly placed in the chair. He smiled at her thoughtfulness and went to find her.  

She was in the kitchen getting plates and flatware together, bent over the cabinet gyrating her hips to Stevie Ray Vaughan’s wailing guitar.  

Crowley walked over to her. “Can I help?” 

“Nope, all done. We just need the pizza. I see you found the pajamas I got for you.”  

She smiled and motioned for him to turn around so she could see him from all sides. He turned slowly for her. 

“Why?” 

“Why what?” 

“Why did you buy pajamas for me? How did you know I would be here?” 

“I didn’t know. I hoped.”  

She frowned slightly and explained. “Crowley, not everything in life is concrete. Sometimes you just have to hope in something or someone even if it doesn't make sense.” 

She took his hand and danced around him on her way to the bedroom. 

“Listen for the door, the pizza should be here soon. I'm going to slip something on other than a towel.” 

The King of Hell stood in the small modern kitchen,barefoot and wearing silk pajama pants while waiting on pizza. He was happy.  

There was a loud knock at the door. Crowley looked through the peephole and saw a teenage boy wearing a bright colored tee shirt holding a pizza box. 

He opened the door and asked. ”How much do I owe you?” 

“Uh, It’s already been paid.” The kid looked at him funny, handed him the pizza and left. 

Crowley nudged the door shut with his elbow. He turned to set the pizza on the kitchen island as she walked toward him wearing the top to his pajama bottoms. He smiled at her.  

“I love your smile. You're such a beautiful man.” She caressed his face as she spoke. 

“Thank you, darling.”  

He opened the pizza box and put slices on the plates while she got two bottles of water from the fridge.  

“Grab the plates and come on.”  

Crowley picked the plates up and followed her, admiring the sway of her hips as she walked. He watched as she sat down with her legs folded under her, the black silk top strategically covering her and then he sat with her on the sofa. They ate and listened to the music, each of them enjoying the simplicity of junk food, good music, and being with the right person at the right time. 

“There’s a little coffee shop not far from here. How about we go for brunch tomorrow? The coffee is strong and the pastries are fresh and delicious.” 

“Or we can stay here and I will make muffins for you again.” 

He saw her mood change in her facial expression; it went from relaxed to tight in a matter of seconds. 

“What the hell, Crowley? Are you married?”  

“No, I told you that first night I am most certainly NOT married.” 

She leaned slightly forward, looking at him hard. “Why are you content with just staying in my tiny apartment? I feel like you are either hiding out or ashamed to be seen with me in public.” 

“I told you before, some of my associates are ruthless. I worry that you would become a target and suffer because of my fondness for you.” 

He reached to touch her arm and she moved away from his touch for the first time since they had met. It hurt him almost like a physical blow.  

“I know you have secrets and I told myself that I would be patient and wait until you are ready to tell me, but I can’t. I am not some slut that picks up random men to have sex with and I am not going to sit and pine away until it is convenient for you to come see me.” 

“Darling--”  Crowley tried to interrupt her, but she raised her hand like a stop sign. 

Standing up and putting distance between them, her voice got louder as she paced around the living area determined to have her say. 

“No. I need to say this and you need to hear it. I don’t have a phone number to reach you. I don’t have a clue where you live. Do you realize how totally pathetic that makes me? I am not that girl. And to make matters worse, I really care about you!” 

She sat on the edge of the coffee table, facing him and spoke softly, reaching to touch his face. 

“Crowley, I’m falling for you. It would be so easy for me to love you and that scares the shit out of me. I have been content by myself for so long and now I have found someone that I enjoy being with in every sense of the word.”  

They sat quietly for a few seconds. She smiled a sad smile and he sighed dreading the next part. Would she think he was crazy or just evil?

 “Darling, I adore you. I love being here with you and not worrying about the real world, my real world. I do have secrets and I haven’t wanted to tell you because I’m afraid you won’t see me in the same light. I don’t think I could bear that. It would be too painful. Forgive me for being selfish.” 

Crowley looked away and then took a drink of water before continuing.

 “Do you believe in angels and demons and things that go bump in the night?” 

“Crowley, really?”  

“I’m quite serious. Do you?” 

“I guess. I am not really into all that to be honest. But what does that have to do with anything? Are you a psychic?” 

He chuckled at her idea and then became serious. 

“No, love. I am not a psychic nor am I human. I am a demon--a crossroads demon actually.” 

She threw back her head and laughed. It was not the reaction Crowley was expecting. Maybe this wouldn’t be as bad as he imagined or maybe it was just too much for her to believe. He watched her and waited to see what she would say.  

“Very funny. Here I was bracing for something big and possibly horrible and you tell me that you are a demon. What if I don’t believe in demons? I have touched you, kissed you, and felt safe with you.”  

“I wouldn’t harm you, you are safe with me.” 

“Hmm, alright, prove that you are a demon.Show me what you got.” She folded her arms across her chest and challenged him.  

Crowley kissed her lightly on the lips, and vanished into the air. She stood and looked around trying to make sense of where he was.  

“Crowley?” She called out to the empty apartment.  

In the space of a few heartbeats, she heard a rustling noise behind her. 

“Miss me, darling?” He purred in her ear.  

She turned to him, her eyes wide and excited. He was dressed in his signature black suit and holding a postcard featuring Lady Liberty. 

“Where did you go and how? And your clothes, you left in pajama pants.” 

“I can go anywhere I like with a snap of my fingers and as for the clothes, I wouldn’t wear pajamas on the streets of New York.” 

She sat down on the sofa and patted the space next to her. Crowley sat next to her wondering what she was thinking. She twisted to face him and he turned to face her. He was reminded of that first night and the kiss they shared in almost the same place.  

“So you can snap your fingers and poof, you’re in another place?”  

“Yes.”  

“Can you read minds?”  

“No pet, I don’t do parlor tricks.” 

“You said you are a crossroads demon. What does that mean?” 

“I make deals. Someone wants fame, fortune, or whatever and for a price they can have it. I facilitate and seal the deal.”  

The conversation felt surreal to Crowley. She was calm about him being a demon and seemed to accept the idea. The dread that had been with him was lifting like a fog being burned away by the sun. He felt such a sense of relief that he was almost light headed. 

“So the whole selling your soul thing is a real thing?” 

“Yes, it is real. Souls are quite valuable currency. It amazes me how cheaply some barter theirs away.” 

“That’s sad.” She yawned and Crowley drew her up against his side. 

 “Tell me love, do you still feel safe with me?”  

She wiggled under Crowley’s arm and looked up at him before answering. 

“Nothing has changed. You are still who you were, I just know more about you now. I happy you trusted me with that truth. Yes, I feel safe with you. I don’t understand all the details about you being a demon, but I know that something in you calls out to something in me. I refuse to give up on that. It is a rare thing.”  

Crowley smiled as a peace settled over him. She was a rare woman, indeed, and he adored her. He could admit it now, he had hope.   

“What are you thinking, Crowley?” 

“I’m thinking you are tired and I should put you to bed.”  

She giggled, “I am not a child, but I can call you daddy. Would you like that, daddy?” 

He growled in his chest at her sexy teasing. 

“Come on pet, let’s go to bed.”  

He stood and held out his hand for her. She reached for his hand with no hesitation and smiled a sleepy smile. She looked so feminine and vulnerable standing there in a long pajama top, barefoot with slightly messy hair. She was beautiful in vulnerability as well as strength. Crowley cleared his throat and swept her into his arms, carrying her to the bed. 

He set her gently on her feet beside the bed and as she was turning the bedding back, he snapped his fingers and walked around the bed wearing his black boxer briefs.  

They climbed under the sheets and she moved toward Crowley and kissed him. She pressed her body against him, deepening the kiss. His arms circled her and his hands rubbed her back then slid lower to cup her ass through the black silk.  

Crowley broke the kiss with a sigh. 

“Rest love. It’s late and I’ve given you quite a bit to think about.” 

She pouted. “But I want you.” 

“There is nothing that would make me happier than to ravish you until the sun rises. But I plan on going to get coffee and pastries with you in the morning and then making love to you all day and you need your rest.” 

“You will stay and spend the day with me tomorrow?”  

“Cross my heart.” 

“I am a little tired. I guess I could snooze for awhile. Promise you won’t leave before morning?” 

“I won’t leave.”

 She fell asleep her head on Crowley’s chest. He stoked her hair and held her loosely,wanting to touch her and maintain that physical connection while she slept. He had told her his greatest secret and she accepted him. More than just accepted him, she still wanted him and wasn’t afraid of his touch. He had faced his fear of rejection and triumphed.  

Crowley closed his eyes and smiled. Being King had never felt so good.

@evansrogerskitten @roxy-davenport @feistybaby @thewife101 @thewife101cevans @ashtheironbat @2glassesofchianti

[despairforme]

@grimmjxw​ ( even if Grimmjow is only in this by mention,  but it is for their verse so yeah ) ,, drabble. 

     As he made his way up the driveway to the house where his mother and step-father lived, he thought this felt surprisingly easy. Even if he supposed his mother was a stranger to him now, he wasn’t nervous about this. It would probably be awkward as hell, and maybe even a little sad, but none of that mattered. If there was even a tiny chance that she could help him out, then he would do anything to make that happen. It was simple math, really ( simple enough for even an idiot like Nnoitra to figure it out ) - if he didn’t do this, he wouldn't have done everything he could for Grimmjow. His boyfriend deserved someone who did THEIR BEST, and that was exactly what Nnoitra was trying to do. Really, he’d always had an inferiority complex with Grimmjow, feeling like he wasn’t good enough, so now that it really mattered, he was not going to do anything less than his FUCKING BEST.

     The second he knocked on the door ( there was a bell there, but he overlooked it ), a punch of sudden anxiety hit him. He was assuming that even after all these years, none of his mother or his step-father’s habits had changed. He was assuming that HE was at work, while his mother had gotten home before him. He sure as hell wasn’t here to see him, so what was he going to do if it wasn’t his mother who opened the door? Hell, did they even live here? What if they had moved? Why the fuck hadn’t he thought about this?

     Before he could leave or really do anything other than stand there with a worried expression on his face, the door was opened. The woman was none other than his mother. The anxiety faded to a light nervousness, but he still felt far more uncomfortable than he had anticipated. 

     ❝ Mom. ❞ It had been so long since he’d spoken to her, and he had a hard time even looking at her right now. Still, he forced his gaze to stay on her. She looked a bit older since the last time he saw her. YEARS ago. There was a small hint of grey to a few hairs by her temples. Her expression was nothing short of SHOCK. Nnoitra couldn’t blame her. A part of him ( a very big part of him ) wanted her to hug him. Not surprisingly, that didn’t happen. She just remained in the doorway, staring at him like she was wondering whether or not he was real. Her eyes, Nnoitra noticed, rested on his eyepatch. For a moment, he wondered if she was just going to close the door in his face. That would be what he deserved, he supposed, since he really should’ve done better by her. Not that he really regretted how things had turned out between them, since it wasn’t HIS fault. But, neither did he blame her. It was all his step-father’s fault, and it she wasn’t to blame for loving him. Nnoitra also knew he hadn’t needed to cut off all ties with her after moving out of the house. Yeah, he’d been kicked out, in a way, but he could’ve still tried to get back in touch with her. Maybe... Called her on Christmas Eve or some shit like that. Yeah, there were a lot of things he could’ve done, rather than just fucking showing up on her doorsteps totally unannounced. But... Yeah - he was here now, and they would BOTH just have to deal with that.

     Then, her arms stretched out. She was a lot smaller than him, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t reach. And soon, he found himself in that embrace he’d wanted so badly. 

     ❝ Nnoitra. ❞

     She was holding him pretty tightly, like she thought he would disappear if she let go. Nnoitra got the feeling of having been missed, and now, guilt was starting to bloom within him. A thick swallow followed, and to try and fight off that growing bad feeling, he hugged her back. She smelled like spices from cooking, a faint perfume too, maybe, and just... His childhood. Nostalgia was the next thing to hit him, and then, he thought that he was really glad he came here, regardless of what the outcome of his visit would be.

     How long did the hug last? He wasn’t sure. It was a while, definitely. When they let each other go again, she quickly wiped away tears. Ah... He’d made his mom cry. He knew it wasn’t the first time. A silence followed now. ❝ Please, come in. ❞ She was the one to break it, and she gestured for him to follow her into the house. He did as bid, and pulled off his worn out boots once inside. She was looking at him the entire time, and Nnoitra found that he didn’t mind. ❝ Would you like something to eat? ❞ Yeah, he’d noticed the smell of something freshly baked. ❝ I just baked a bread. Would you like a slice with some... Butter and jam, maybe? ❞ Nnoitra remembered he’d always enjoyed eating jam when he was a kid, having had a somewhat childish taste. Again, he swallowed, before nodding. Damn, he just... Didn’t know what to say. To realize that he couldn’t even say ‘ yeah, thanks ‘, to his own mother was a bit scary. However, she didn’t look put off by his silence at all. Strange, that even after all this time, she still knew him. She knew he could be a bit socially awkward.

     He followed her to the kitchen, where the scent of that bread was even stronger, and yeah, now he was definitely hungry. He was served four large slices of bread, with a lot of jam. Whenever they ate this at home, Nnoitra would always use a thin layer of jam, to make the jar last longer. How different it was, to be back where he’d grown up. Speaking of ‘ different ‘, it didn’t look like much had changed. As far as he could see, the walls were still the same colours, and the pictures hanging on them hadn’t been switched out either. His mother still kept a ‘ to-do-list ‘ on the fridge. Oh, and once he’d taken a bite of the food, he could say that she was also still very good at making bread. She let him eat the entire first piece before she spoke, and Nnoitra was SO grateful for that. It gave him some time to pull himself the fuck together.

     ❝ How have you been? ❞ She asked. Nnoitra had figured out that she would ask him that, so he was somewhat prepared to answer.

     ❝ Good. ❞ What a BRILLIANT answer that was! He could’ve punched himself in the face... For fuck’s sake. If he wanted her money, he’d have to do a hell of a lot better than that. That made him a bit sad. To admit that the only reason why he had gone to see his own mother was to get her to give him some financial means. That guilt faded soon enough though, since he was reminded that this was all for Grimmjow. No feeling could compare to the prospects of LOSING him.

     ❝ I see. I’m glad. ❞ The conversation was turning a bit awkward now, wasn’t it? Nnoitra knew it was his fault, but he didn’t know how to fix it. ❝ What happened to your eye? ❞ Her voice was softer than he remembered, wasn’t it? He’d guessed she would inquire about his eye too ( people often did ). It was a good thing that she’d asked, since Nnoitra didn’t have a problem talking about it.

     ❝ Accident. ❞ GOD FUCKING DAMN IT. Why couldn’t he just talk to her? Nnoitra took another bite of the bread and chewed. The taste had died down in his mouth, and he just felt bad. He was thinking that if he’d stayed in contact with her, then everything would’ve been better for them both. He’d thought he didn’t blame himself for this, but now that he was here... He realized that he did. Great. One more thing for him to feel shitty about. A glance over at her told him that she was waiting for him to say something more. Yeah, she was pushing him just a bit. She knew he needed it. ❝ So it’s blind now. ❞ That was pretty obvious, wasn’t it? Otherwise he wouldn’t have been wearing the fucking eyepatch. He should try to say... Something more. ❝ It happened at a construction site. ‘Daz where I work. With construction. Ya know like... Buildin’ shit ‘n stuff. ❞ The longest sentence he’d managed so far, and the subject was so trivial. It was what strangers would talk about - work. He couldn’t decide if that was a good or a bad thing.

     ❝ Oh, so you have a job? ❞ She was smiling now, and it didn’t sound like she was looking down on him.

     ❝ Yeah, they let me keep it, even after... ❞ He gestured towards his bad eye, and took another bite. The tension was lifting, and it was such a relief. He felt like it became easier to breathe.

     ❝ That’s good. ❞ She was still smiling, but slowly, the smile faded. Nnoitra didn’t understand why. A new silence fell between them. It looked like his mother wanted to say something, but didn’t know HOW to say it. It could be a million different things, and all Nnoitra could do was wait, while trying to look like he was open for questions or... Yeah, whatever it was she wanted to say to him. ❝ And you’re still...? ❞ There was so much hesitation in her voice. The question didn’t make ANY sense to Nnoitra. He was still what? His confused look must’ve given away that he didn’t understand her. ❝ You know... ❞ No, that was the problem - he didn’t know. Was he still that reckless teenager? Well, he was hardly a teen anymore, and since he spent all his time at work, it wasn’t like he had any opportunities to be ‘ reckless ‘ ( or even have fun ). He realized what she was getting at the same second she said it: ❝ With him? ❞

     Nnoitra didn’t think he’d ever felt that disappointed in his life. There was pure accusation in her voice, and he realized what she’d been thinking all this time. She thought he had CHANGED. That he ( in her mind ) had ‘ come to his senses ‘, and left Grimmjow, and that that was the reason why he was here. For a fucking family reunion where she could be ‘ right ‘ about him choosing the wrong path. Nnoitra dropped the piece of bread he was holding right down on the plate. He was angry, and she’d be an idiot if she couldn’t tell.

     ❝ With GRIMMJOW, yeah, I am. Got a fuckin’ problem with that? ❞ Nnoitra had never been ‘ diplomatic ‘, and what little skills in that area he possessed, were completely lost when he was angry. That hoarse voice of his took on a spitefulness that he really should not be using against his own mother, but fuck it - he couldn’t help it. ❝ So ‘daz what’s been up these years, huh? That fuckin’ asshole has just been tellin’ ya all that shit ‘bout me livin’ in sin or whateva’? That I’mma go ‘ta hell? ‘S that why ya ain’t never tried ‘ta get in contact with me? ❞ His anger was easily fighting off whatever nervousness he’d been harboring prior to her ruining this whole ‘ reunion ‘. He hadn’t been raising his voice all that much, but still, his chest was rising and falling rapidly, and his pulse was hammering away in his ears. When she didn’t reply, he realized that he was right. She STILL believed all that crap.  ❝ I don’t fuckin’ get it... ❞ CALM DOWN. Really, he needed to calm the fuck down. He tried to remember why he was here in the first place: Grimmjow. If he kept this up, he was going to ruin every chance he might have at getting some money for his boyfriend’s treatment. ❝ Is me bein’ happy with someone really such a bad thing? ❞

     The silence that now followed was heavy. The only thing that could be heard was Nnoitra’s breathing. He wondered what her answer would be.

     ❝ Are you happy? ❞

     The question hit him like a truck. Simply because it brought forth ALL his fears. The answer was: no. He was NEVER going to be happy when Grimmjow was suffering, and, right now, it looked like the only way his suffering was going to end was with his death, and there was no fucking way Nnoitra could ever feel anything GOOD ever again if he didn’t have his boyfriend by his side. Nnoitra was so scared of losing him, and when the fear managed to get this close to him, he almost felt dizzy.

     ❝ No... ❞ He whispered, fearing that his voice would crack if he chose to raise it. ❝ No, I ain’t. I can’t be, ‘cause Grimmjow’s sick. He’d dyin’. ‘N I... Can’t get ‘da money ‘fer his treatment in time ‘cause I’m fuckin’ useless ‘n--- I just love him SO FUCKIN’ MUCH--- ❞ There, a voice crack. ❝ ‘N if I can’t be with him I might as well fuckin’ die, ‘cause there ain’t nobody like him. I was so fuckin’ happy. Ya know? ‘Da sorta happy when ya wonder if it’s even real. ‘N now, I hardly even get ‘ta see him, ‘cause I work all ‘da hours my job will gimme, ‘ta try ‘n get ‘da money. ‘Cause I just... Wanna keep him with me ‘fer as long as possible. No matter what it takes I just can’t fuckin’ lose him! ❞ All of Nnoitra’s words just tumbled out of his mouth. He was not the sort of person who would pour his heart out to someone, but there was no stopping the flood of emotions that had managed to transform themselves into words. He needed to get them out or he might implode. ❝ So I fuckin’ came here like some piece ‘a shit ‘ta ask ya ‘fer money, even if I know I don’t deserve shit, but Grimmjow deserves it! He so fuckin’ does! He deserves so much better than ‘da shit life I give him. If I was better, I would’a had ha better job ‘n more money, ‘n he could’a already gotten his treatment, instead ‘a lyin’ sick in bed with only a kitten ‘fer company! I know I don’t deserve no help from ya, ‘n that it’s fuckin’ my fault that I didn’t even call ya ‘fer Christmas or nothin’ like tha’, but, please!  ❞ Breathe, really, he had to stop to fucking breathe. 

     ❝ Please help me! ❞ Nnoitra had never asked anyone for help in his life, but here he was, begging his mother, while looking right at her. He didn’t expect a ‘yes’. The world was not kind to him, and he had not been kind to his mom, so why should she lend him a hand now?

     Then, suddenly, like he had skipped a scene, her arms were around him once more. 

     ❝ I will. ❞ Nnoitra could hardly believe this. She was hugging him, and telling him... That there was hope? ❝ I’ll help you. ❞ He wanted to say something in return, but right now, all he could do was trying to remember how to breathe.