#instead of sitting in it with them and just listening

[daryltwdixon]

Merry Christmas, Daryl

Daryl x Reader Fluff

summary: On a quiet Christmas Eve in Alexandria, an unexpected moment under mistletoe brings you and Daryl closer in a way neither of you expected. slightly nerdy awkward reader

author's note: just something cute to wish you all a happy holiday 🎄✨🎁❄️☃️🎅🦌🌟

The faint hum of conversation and laughter fills the air, the low flicker of candles and strings of scavenged Christmas lights casting a warm glow across the house. Alexandria feels… different tonight. Almost like the world hasn’t ended. Like they’re all just neighbors, throwing a party to pass the time. You suppose it's what it's been like for them this whole time, but for you and your group...it was a nice reminder of what once was.

Maggie is laughing at something Glenn said, her eyes crinkling in a way you haven’t seen in months. Carl and Judith sit by the fire with Michonne, her arm draped protectively around the boy’s shoulders as she listens to his quiet chatter. Rick’s laugh carries over the rest of the noise, and for a moment, everything feels—normal.

Instead of joining in, you linger on the outskirts, nursing your drink. It’s not that you don’t feel welcome—you do, mostly. It’s just easier to watch, to soak in the warmth and pretend the ache of missing something you can’t quite name isn’t sitting heavy in your chest.

Your eyes wander, always searching no matter what room you're in—for him.

Daryl.

He stands near the door, half in shadow, nursing a beer with one hand while the other rests on his hip. He’s not watching anyone in particular, but his eyes scan the room like always, as if he’s looking for trouble—or maybe just a reason to leave. There’s something about the way he stands, so separate from everyone else, that pulls you in.

You’ve always told yourself it’s nothing, this feeling that tugs at you whenever he’s around. But it can't be nothing. Not with the way your heart picks up when he looks at you, the way you catch yourself stealing glances at him when you think he won’t notice. It’s the way he speaks—not much, but when he does, it’s rough and honest and somehow makes you feel safer than all the walls around Alexandria combined.

You take another sip, your fingers tightening slightly on the glass. You like him. You’ve liked him for months, but it’s not the kind of thing you can just admit—to yourself or to him. You’re not even sure he sees you that way. You’ve convinced yourself he doesn’t, because it’s easier than hoping for something you might not get.

Still, your feet move before you can stop them.

“You look like you’re having fun,” you tease as you approach, your voice light despite the nervous flutter in your chest.

He glances at you, his lips twitching in something that could almost be a smile. “Ain’t exactly my scene.”

You shrug, falling beside him to lean against the wall, “Not mine either, really. But it’s nice, right? Seeing everyone like this?”

He doesn’t answer immediately, his gaze shifting back to the room. After a moment, he nods. “Yeah. S’good for ‘em.”

The way he says it—quiet, almost like it’s a secret—makes your chest ache. You wonder if he ever lets himself have anything good, or if he always watches from the sidelines, thinking it’s enough just to see other people happy.

You study him for a long moment, taking in the slope of his shoulders, the way his thumb taps idly against the glass bottle. But with a shift of his shoulders, he's pushing off the wall.

“You heading out already?” you ask, trying to keep the disappointment from your voice.

“Think so,” he mutters. His voice is low, rough, but it doesn’t feel dismissive. If anything, it feels like an invitation—to follow, to keep talking, to… something.

Instead, you offer a soft smile. “Guess I’ll see you later, then.”

He dips his head in a nod, stepping away from the doorframe and into the chilly night.

The walk home is quiet, the air crisp and biting against your skin. You tuck your hands into your pockets, letting your breath mist in front of you as you replay the evening in your head.

You’re not sure why you feel so unsettled. It’s not like you expected him to stay. Daryl doesn’t do parties or crowds or small talk. That’s part of who he is, and it’s part of why you like him. Still, you can’t shake the feeling that you should have said more.

You spot him just beyond the houses, leaning against one of the bare trees that line the edge of the path. He’s looking up, his face tilted toward the branches, and for a moment, you just watch him, the way he always seems to watch everyone else.

“What are you doing out here?” you ask, your voice breaking the stillness.

He turns slightly, his gaze landing on you. “Could ask you the same.”

You step closer, following his gaze to the small sprig of green dangling from one of the lower branches. It takes a second to register, but when it does, your heart skips. Mistletoe.

A laugh escapes you, nervous and too loud in the quiet night. “Huh. Did you know mistletoe’s a parasite?”

His brow furrows, and you press on, the words spilling out before you can stop them. “I mean, technically a semi-parasite. It attaches to trees and, you know… kind of takes what it needs. Pretty romantic, right?”

He’s watching you now, his lips twitching like he’s trying not to smile. “You always talk this much?”

“Only when I’m nervous,” you blurt, and the words hang in the cold air, making your cheeks burn.

Daryl tilts his head slightly, his brow furrowing in that way he does when he’s trying to figure something out. You can feel your pulse quicken under his gaze, the weight of his attention making your tongue trip over itself. “It’s just… mistletoe. And, uh… you.”

As soon as the words are out, you wish you could take them back, your eyes darting anywhere but at him. The mistletoe, the ground, the shadow his boots make on the frost-bitten earth—anything to avoid the unreadable look you’re sure is on his face.

The silence stretches, thick enough to strangle you. You almost start rambling again, desperate to fill the gap, when he clears his throat.

“Mistletoe, huh?” he mutters, the corner of his mouth twitching like he’s trying not to smile.

You glance up, startled, and your breath catches. He’s still watching you, but there’s something softer in his expression now, something almost shy. He shifts his weight, his thumb hooking into his belt loop, and the small, nervous movement sends a rush of affection through you.

“Well, yeah,” you say, the words spilling out faster now, your voice breathy. “I mean, technically it’s a semi-parasite. It grows on trees, kind of… leeching off them, but in a subtle way. You know, symbiotic. It’s not entirely—”

You stop abruptly when you realize he’s taken a small step closer. Your heart pounds against your ribs, and you’re suddenly very aware of how quiet it is, just the faint rustle of the wind through the trees and the sound of your own breathing.

He’s not much taller than you, but he feels bigger somehow, his presence grounding you even as it sends your thoughts scattering. Your eyes flick to the mistletoe above, then back to his, and you swear he notices because his gaze drops—briefly—to your lips before snapping back up.

“Y/N…” he says softly, his voice rough and hesitant, like suddenly the name tastes different on his tongue suddenly.

Your breath catches again, and before you can second-guess yourself, you both move. It’s awkward at first, both of you leaning in too fast, your noses brushing in a way that makes you stifle a nervous laugh. But then his hand comes up, rough and warm against your jaw, steadying you, and suddenly the world narrows to just this—just him.

His lips meet yours, tentative and soft at first, but the moment stretches, deepens, like neither of you wants to pull away. You lean into him, your hands finding his jacket, clutching at the worn fabric like you need it to keep steady.

Daryl kisses you like he doesn’t quite know what he’s doing but doesn’t want to stop. It’s clumsy and unpracticed, and it makes your chest ache because it feels so him. Honest. Earnest.

When you finally part, you’re both breathing harder than you should be, the air between you clouding with misted breaths. His hand lingers against your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin in a way that sends a shiver down your spine.

“Merry Christmas, Y/N,” he murmurs, his voice low.

You feel your lips curve into a smile, the warmth blooming in your chest spilling out into your words. “Merry Christmas, Daryl.”

[bunni-v1]

Thanking that anon who asked if Lighter have weird fetishes or something along those lines,

Not a request— just a thought to share about Lighter, sub! Lighter. 👁️👁️🍷

Him to be known as a strong man, who never loses. Losing on the damn bed, crying for you to let him cum, the way his hands shakily reaching out to your wrist that prevents his cock to let out that white liquid out. Only for you to press down harder by the tip making his body arched beautifully, his hands gripping on the bedsheets his knuckles turning white.

"please— please let me c— ah— wait wait wait, no stop!— d, don't press harder— n, no nngghii��!?!!? "

Like—?? HWBDHENNDFF— LIGHTER—

Using the sound on his cock too edge him is also— chef's kiss. Watch him cry and writhe begging for you to take it out.

Ahem.

Mdni

Sub Lighter is such a cutie, y’know? He really is a tough guy, honestly. He’s all sharp edges to the outside world, which is perfectly fine! But god breaking his mental sounds fun, doesn’t it?

On the VERY RARE occasion he lets you top — at least, actually top and not just has you on top while he’s still in control — it’s so much fun getting back at him for all the torture he puts your through.

Strip him down, slowly of course, you can’t rush such a rare opportunity like this. First his jacket, then his shirt, kiss all around his chest (pay close attention to his scars, he melts like butter in your hands when you mumble how pretty they are). Make sure your free hand is fondling him through his too tight jeans, those moans are delicious. It’s important to note you must keep your clothes on here, it’s part of the fun.

Press warm, slow kisses down his abdomen before working his belt and pants off. Then slowly inch his boxers after and watch his cock spring out and smack his abdomen with an audible thump. Don’t touch it yet, though, he might get too eager and take back control if you’re not careful.

Tie him up with pretty red ribbon, oh or his scarf, he’s less likely to tear his scarf apart. Maybe handcuffs or rope — though he could easily break those too. He’ll complain as you tie his hands to the bedpost, annoyed that he can’t touch you too. The whiny tone out of place from him, but oh so delectable.

When you pull out the cock cage he knows it’s game over. He fucking hates that thing, but he doesn’t do more than grumble because he’s such a good boy. Tell him he’s such a good boy as you turn the lock on the horrid thing.

Now that you have him all restrained you can take your sweet time. Start with his nipples, they’re very sensitive. You could ghost your fingers over them and he’d buck his hips already. Scratch your nails over one while you suck on the other, looking him in the eyes while he whines like a slut.

Your other hand should scrape over his sides as you do so, nice and slow so he squirms. Go nice and slow, spend at least a good few minutes doing this. Then, once you’re satisfied, kiss and suck your way down to his thighs. Leave pretty purple marks into the muscled meat there. Coo at him about how cute he is, how pathetic he is, how you like him so much when he’s whining and squirming.

Listen to him beg you, “P-please~ I wanna fuck you. Lemme fuck you baby, lemme make you feel good~”

And who are you to deny him that? Just… not the way he wants. He’s so excited when you slip your pants and panties off, practically wagging his nonexistent tail. But you don’t take the cage off, and instead of untying his wrists you position yourself over his head.

He’ll pout a little, then he’ll get a good look at your glistening pussy and moan like a whore. “Gonna make me feel good, pretty boy?”

“Mhm~” Is the last thing he gets out before you sit on him, and then the room is full of nothing but desperate slurping and sucking. He needs to taste you more than air, has to get you off and drown in your delicious pussy juice. It’s all he wants. All he needs. Fuck his face hard, don’t hold back, he’s a strong guy he can take it. And even if he can’t this was probably the best way he could go out.

But, don’t give him what he wants, that would make things boring. Edge yourself, just as your about to cum, pull off of him to hear the most precious whine you’ll ever get out of him. His eyes will be blow wide and his face covered in your slick, be careful cause he will press up and chase after you.

“Wanna make you cum, please—“ He’ll cry, voice breaking. Do not humor him.

Return to your previous ministrations, slow and steady wins the race after all. This time, though, when you get to his thighs reach for that little key and slowly remove the cage and you leave more pretty marks. He’ll sigh, throw his head back in relief as his poor tortured member twitches excitedly at the freedom.

Kiss it, smack it around a little, run your fingers along those pretty veins just to hear him hiss and watch his hips jerk. “So desperate~” You’ll coo, and he’ll whine a “Shut up…” back. It’s all so cute.

Finally, give him what he wants. With a little kiss and a sweet smile, take him all down in one go. He’ll jerk up into you, so smack his thigh as a reminder of who’s in charge here. Throat fuck him all the way up to climax, and then full stop the second you feel him tense up.

Return back to his thighs for a moment, then jerk him off in the same process, stopping right at his peak. He’ll beg, oh he’ll beg, “Gotta cum— please lemme cum~ Baby, please, please, please-“

If he gets too annoying just squeeze his balls nice and tight, that’ll get him to choke on his words. Threaten to take out the sounding tools if he keeps it up — he hates sounding when you do it, you’re so mean to him~

Edge him until he’s so red and swollen and covered in pre-cum that he’s hardly even present to answer you. All he can think about is how much he wants one of you — he doesn’t even care if it’s him anymore — to cum.

Climb back up his body, and finally kiss him. He still tastes like you as he swallows up the affection, practically consuming you whole. Rub your pussy against his lower abdomen as you let him tongue fuck you. You can feel his muscles tense as he tries and fails to get some kind of friction for his swollen cock.

When you pull away he’ll no doubt whine again — he can’t ever decide what he wants more when you’re torturing him like this. Your pleasure or his. Too much for his mushy little brain to think of.

“You wanna fuck me, wanna make me cum.” You’ll ask, positioning yourself over his achingly hard dick.

He nods dumbly, very distracted by your hand jerking him off just below heavens gate. “Gotta use your words.”

“Wanna fuck you so bad, baby. Gonna— gonna make you cum as much as you want, please lemme take care of you~” He begs, pouting like a child at you.

“Okay~” You coo, sinking all the way down until he fits to the brim. He moans your name out like you’re some kind of god, but stops short when you don’t move. He’ll look at you angrily, tugging on the restraints once. A warning.

“You said you wanna fuck me,” You whisper, crawling up his chest to his ear, “So fuck me~”

So, like the very good boy he is, he does his very best to get off with you not moving on top of him. He fucks up into you like a bitch in heat, whining and crying all the way — “You’re so tight, can’ take it—“ “Feels s’ good— so fuckin’ good.” “Lemme cum baby, please move.”

He just can’t get off without you, though. As hot and tight as your little cunt is, he can only do so much when you’re giving him nothing to work with. No moans, no movement, just little kisses and whispers of “Good boy”. It wasn’t enough.

“Baby~” He’ll cry, and you’ll take his face in your hands, wiping away tears he didn’t know was falling.

Take pity on him here, he’s so spent and so broken now. All he wants is you. Give him a little break. Move your hips in time with him and watch his eyes roll back. He jerks in his restraints again and that’s your second warning to hurry it the fuck up.

Fuck him, hard. Slam your hips down into him, over and over unrelenting and watch him writhe and mutter “Thank you” over and over. He only knows that and your name at this point. Oh, and don’t be a hardass, let him cum inside. He’ll take care of it later, he warned to fill you up with his cum deep inside.

But… don’t stop moving even after he’s cum. Roll your hips in the same brutal pace, and listen to him whine and beg you to stop. Don’t stop.

“N’ more…” He huffs out, trying and failing to pull away from you.

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” You’ll coo.

He shakes his head, “‘s too much.”

“C’mon pretty boy, you can give me one more~” And he’ll look at you with the cutest pout until — snap. That’s the sound of his restraints breaking. One of his hands grabs your smug face with a nasty scowl and the other is grabbing your hip in a vice grip.

Guess you flew a little to close to the sun, huh. Good luck!~

[idkwhatimdoinghere1655]

Christmas Future - Carlos Sainz

<word count - 3031>

Cancelled.

That was the word in red that flittered after every single flight on the departures board at Gatwick airport. Your flight was cancelled and so was everyone else's. 

You probably should have guessed that this was going to happen, but the small part of you that was desperate to go home was being optimistic. Pulling out your phone, you shot a few texts to your family to tell them that, unless the blizzard magically blew over, there was no way in hell that you were getting home on time to be there for Christmas morning. Or Christmas at all. 

Everyone was resigned to the same fate, pulling their books and portable chargers out of their bags in preparation for the undoubtable hours that were to come. People were standing around, sitting on floors, crammed onto the seemingly endless yet dwindling seats.

You were standing too, still with your eyes glued to the screen as if it would change the words on the surface by sheer will. Turning your head, you saw the snowflakes dancing in the wind and battering the large windows of the airport, and you knew that your hopes were getting crushed.

You went to stand by the seats, waiting for someone to make the grave mistake of getting up to get a snack or go to the toilet. You knew it was going to be a while before someone caved and let their basic human rights override their need to have a seat, but you just stuffed your earphones into your ears and let the music take the time away.

After a few hours, your feet were starting to get sore, so you lowered yourself to the floor like a lot of other people around. It had cleared out slightly, since some people had just left to go and find a hotel for the night instead of sleeping on the floor of the airport. 

The idea had crossed your mind a few times, but you wanted the opportunity to be on the first flight going as soon as possible. Being home was worth having a sore back and exhaustion. 

You noticed how a few people had started talking to each other randomly, just for some way to pass the time. It was strange how they would have just ignored each other in passing, but were now getting to know one another.

While you were busy making up fake scenarios about the people you were seeing around, you failed to notice a pair of eyes watching you. He couldn't help but notice the disappointment on your face when all flights were cancelled until further notice and the tiredness in your expression when you slumped down on the floor. 

He wondered if you were like him, just trying to get home in time for Christmas. He saw has your head lolled back and your eyes started to flutter closed, and he spotted the slight wince in your expression as you shifted around, trying to get comfortable. 

He felt bad. He had been sat there for hours, and he was pretty settled. And there you were, a young lady being forced to sit on the floor. The chivalrous side of him was telling him to give up the seat for you, but the self-preservation was also telling him to stay in his seat and not be so generous to strangers. 

But, he eventually gave in. Leaving his backpack on the seat so that no one would take it, he got up and walked over to you. His back was practically groaning after being in the same position for so long. Taking a deep breath, he spoke, his voice feeling hoarse from not having used it in a few hours.

"Excuse me, miss?" he asked, hoping you could hear him over your music, because that could have gotten very awkward. For a few seconds, he didn't think that you had heard him, but you took one of your earphones out to listen to him. 

"Yeah?" you said, looking up at the handsome stranger. He was tall, but that was probably because he was towering over you. He had a thick mop of nearly black hair, falling over the tanned skin of his forehead. But his eyes captured you the most. Deep and brown. All too easy to get lost in. 

"I had just noticed you've been sitting here for a long time, and you look like you could use rest in a proper chair," he said, and you couldn't help but let a soft smile spread across your lips. A handsome stranger with manners? Now you really felt like you were dreaming. Maybe the lack of sleep was making you delirious. 

"Are you sure? I don't mind sitting here if you don't want to lose your seat," you said, grateful for his generosity, but also feeling slightly guilty at the thought of taking up his offer. 

"Course, I've been sat there for a few hours. I don't mind taking the floor for a little while," he smiled, rocking back on his heels slightly. This was getting into dangerous territory now. Handsome, manners, dazzling smile. 

"Well thank you," you said, putting your things back in your bag and making a poor attempt at standing up. He offered a hand out to you, and you took it without hesitation. They were a lot bigger than yours, as well has a lot warmer. Slightly calloused too, he could probably do with some hand cream but you doubted he was that type of guy.

Walking you over to the seat, he picked his backpack up from it and slung it over his left shoulder. Slumping down into the seat, your body was happy to have some small sliver of a cushion as opposed to just hard flooring.

The stranger just stood there, unsure of whether to walk away and find some free floor space or wait with you. You noticed his internal struggle, and decided that you didn't want the stranger to return to being a stranger just yet. 

"Do you want to sit with me? I've got a neck pillow you can use, since you're going to be on the floor?" you asked, instantly feeling like an idiot. It felt like your attraction to him was completely obvious, but there was no way to get to know someone unless you talked to them.

"Sure," he nodded with that smile again. You shuffled your legs to the side so that he could rest his back on the edge of the seat, and you pulled your neck pillow out of your bag to hand to him. He had to admit, it was a very nice and comfy neck pillow. 

Despite what you could only assume to be a whole day of travelling, he still smelt unreal as he sat so close to you. Something deep, musky. Definitely something expensive. 

The stranger was also thinking of you as you sat there. He'd expect someone to be cranky after all of the flights being cancelled - especially on Christmas Eve. Yet here you were, being so nice to him after a day of globe trotting. 

"So, what's your name?" he asked, turning his head to look at you. 

"Y/N, you?" you returned.

"Carlos." he said, and he suited the name. His shoulder kept brushing against your legs, and you could feel the warmth of him through his jacket sleeve. "Were you heading home for the holidays?" he questioned, looking down at his watch as if the flights would suddenly be back on. 

It looked expensive, even if you didn't know the exact brand. He likely had money, was probably flying business or first class. It wasn't apparent quite yet which one it would be. 

"Yeah, I was. But I don't think anyone is making it in time for Christmas at this rate." you explained, and he nodded in response. 

"Me too. But I think I'll have to be prepared for the family to open presents without me," he said, and you could hear the hint of sadness in his tone. You completely understood, since this would be the first Christmas that you wouldn't be spending with your family.

"So where would home be if this blizzard wasn't keeping us all hostage?" you joked, trying to lighten the mood. Carlos seemed to get the hint, chuckling slightly at your quip. It was a hearty, deep sound. One that made the cold airport seem a little warmer. 

"Madrid, not a long flight thankfully. I'd hate to do some sort of long haul after being stuck here for however long we're going to be."

"But I guess you can get a good sleep on a long haul. On shorter flights, there's not much time to fall asleep and get enough rest so then you'll be even more tired on landing then customs and baggage claim and then getting to where you need to go." you rambled, and you noticed that Carlos was just looking at you. 

He was staring up at you from his spot on the floor. He had a soft smile on his face, as if he was enjoying your little analysis into long haul versus short haul flights at a time like this. "Sorry..." you mumbled, looking down at your lap. 

"No, no. You're good," he reassured, nudging you in the leg with his shoulder. You felt comfortable with Carlos, despite the fact that you had only known him for about ten minutes. The two of you settled into a silence for a short while, just enjoying having someone there to talk to if you felt like it.

Snow was still hammering against the window, and it wasn't showing any signs of slowing down any time soon. Sighing to yourself, you leant back in your chair to try and get comfy for a short nap. Carlos noticed you shifting and turned to look at you.

"Do you want your pillow back?" he asked.

"No, it's OK. You're on the floor, you need it more," you shook your head, shuffling to try and find some sort of position that your body would allow you to sleep in.

"Wake me up if there are any flights to Geneva. Or if you get a flight so that I can say goodbye," you told him.

"Geneva, eh?" he asked, looking very intrigued. "I would not have guessed that you're swiss." he continued. To be fair, he was very obviously Spanish, so it was easy to guess. With you, it was a bit more of a mystery. 

"I'm not, my entire family live there," you explained, and he was listening intently. 

"Well that's cool. I'm sure Geneva is stunning at Christmas," he said, and you nodded in response while stifling a yawn. "Anyway, I'll let you sleep. And I will only wake you up if I have to go if there is a flight for you," he repeated, with a somewhat melancholy expression. 

Carlos didn't want to say goodbye to you, not so soon. He had become captivated by the girl that he had first seen, eyes glued to the board in hopes that her flight might be reinstated or rescheduled to something in the near future. 

He couldn't say why, either. All he knew was your name and that you were heading home to Geneva. Well, that was where your family was. He didn't know where you were from originally. But, he wanted to find out. For the meantime, however, he would let you rest and just hope that another flight wouldn't pop up for either of you. 

He wanted to go home for Christmas, but he'd make it back in time for lunch at least if the flights held out for another few hours. That way, he'd get to spend some time with you and would be able to have ample time with his family at home. 

His texts to them weren't getting through due to how bad the weather was, but he was sure that they had been tracking his flight and would have seen that it was cancelled. They also knew he was at the airport, so they hopefully wouldn't worry too much about his whereabouts. 

About 3 hours had gone by, and Carlos' phone was nearly dead. So was his back. You were still sleeping. Maybe not so peacefully, but you were sleeping nonetheless. He was itching to get a coffee or something, just to wake him up a little. 

Carlos stood up, stretching out his muscles as they groaned in protest. "Hey, hey," he mumbled, gently nudging you awake. The first thing you saw when you opened your eyes was Carlos standing over you, and you had to give yourself a few moments to verify that this wasn't a dream. 

"Are you going? Am I going?" you sleepily murmured, really hoping that neither of you had to leave just yet.

"No, I was just going to get a coffee and I was wondering if you wanted anything from any of the shops? Snacks, drinks, maybe a blanket from somewhere. Whatever you want." he said, taking his hand off of your shoulder and shoving it back into his pocket. 

"Just a coffee, please. Might perk me up," you told him, and he nodded before turning and walking off in the direction of the shops. It would be a miracle if they had any coffee left after hours of people waiting in the airport, but Carlos went knew that he needed to try. 

He went to a few coffee shops, most of them not having anything caffeinated and only soft drinks. Eventually, though, he found a very small cafe tucked away in the corner. Thankfully, they had a few coffees left, so Carlos ended up buying 2 coffees and 2 waters. 

It was harder than expected to locate you in the rows upon rows of seats, since there were many people who looked like you from the back. But, some intuition that he had sent him in the direction of where you were. And there he spotted you. Yes, it was only the back of your head, but he knew it was you. 

"Here you go," he announced, holding the to-go cup out to you. You took it from him with a grateful smile. He also fished out a water from his pocket, handing it out to you.

"Thank you," you said, sipping at the coffee. It was slightly too hot, burning your throat as it went down. The bitterness was welcome however, and you could already feel the caffeine seeping into your bloodstream. "That is perfection,"

"It's funny what something so simple can do, eh? Just a cup of bean water can make all the difference," he chuckled, and the sound was so infectious. It made the hustle and bustle of the stagnant airport seem a little less strange.

Just as Carlos finished his sentence, the chair next to him was vacated. The man who was originally sat in it was on the phone and was not looking pleased. It was probably his wife, asking where the hell he was. Carlos was quick off the mark, sitting down in it quickly before anyone else got any bright ideas after eyeing up the spot. 

"There we go. Now we both have some rock hard plastic to sit on," he laughed, stretching his long legs out in front of him. For a while, the two of you were talking. You had lent him your power bank to charge his phone, and his texts to his family finally went through. 

"Well would you look at the time," you declared, checking your phone and seeing that it was five minutes to midnight. Christmas was right on the horizon, and you weren't going to be seeing your family any time soon. Or opening presents. Or having dinner with them. 

"Huh, looks like we'll be spending the majority of Christmas in this airport. Or we can get a hotel room. Well, I... not we, I meant me and you can have separate ones, I'm not trying to-" he stuttered, and it was strange to see him so rattled after being so composed over the last few hours. 

"I know what you meant, Carlos. Don't worry. But I want to be on the first available flight home, so I will wait it out right here." you said, and he nodded in agreement. What you didn't know was that, if you were getting a hotel room, so was he. If you weren't, he wasn't either. 

"Me too." he agreed, checking his watch to see that there was now only 3 minutes until Christmas day. His family were all asleep in their beds, aware of his turmoil, yet comfortable while you were stuck. 

He felt guilty that he wasn't going to be there like he had promised. He was away all year, and the one time he always promised to be there, he wasn't. If he was being fair to himself, this was the first time that he had never been home for Christmas in his entire career, so his track record was pretty good. 

You were thinking the same thing about your own family. There was nothing you wanted more than to teleport to your room and head downstairs to open presents and celebrate with the people you loved more than anything else in this world.

Checking the time once again, you opened your phone just in time to watch the clock strike midnight. "Merry Christmas, Carlos," you said, sincerely smiling at him. There were much worse ways to be spending Christmas trapped in an airport, that was for sure. You had lucked out with a handsome, kind and likely rich Spanish casanova.

"Feliz Navidad, Y/N." he said, and you couldn't help but feel the butterflies spark at the Spanish. And the blush on your cheeks had totally given you away. He liked seeing you flustered. And this wasn't a bad way to spend Christmas, and neither of you wanted to spend it like this again.

But, the ghost of Christmas future had a better idea. Well, they had a better idea for a few things. The scenario? No. The setting? No way. The person? Hell yes. The future was already setting paths out for both of you, and all you had to do was choose to walk down it.

A/N - Merry Christmas my darlings! I know, I have been dead to the world for a month and a bit, but the inspiration was on a low down. Or a complete zero. Alas, that does not mean that I was going to allow myself to not get a Christmas special out! I might have missed every other holiday, but I will not let myself miss this years! Also, the FIFTH part to the Lando series will be out later today as a little further Christmas present. So, merry Christmas to those who celebrate, have an equally wonderful day to those who don't, and thank you for all of the support this year. I hope I can be more consistent next year, but I am not making any promises.

Want more Christmas fun? Click here and here.

|masterlist|

[hiiraya]

loml

pairing: natasha romanoff  x reader 

words: ~3.3k

warnings: angst, happy ending (?), literally just self-indulgent writing, messy writing, listen to loml by taylor swift to get in the sad mood

a/n: merry christmas everyone! the last thing I posted was january of 2022 and it's literally about to be 2025 - I've been in a reminiscing mood lately and this was something I've had in the drafts for months, I figured I should just release it to get it out of my system. your girl has been missing someone bad bro and the urge to tag them in this is insane ♡ anyways, hope they see this lmao

“Have a safe flight and text me when you land, yeah?”

“I will, I will. Get home safe and update me as well, okay?”

You release your cousin from your hold, giving their shoulder a quick squeeze as they pull away. You do a last minute check with them to make sure they hadn’t forgotten anything important - something you were always prone to do when travelling by yourself. The memory of you almost missing your international flight because you had rushed home and back to the airport within record speed, all because you had forgotten your passport of all things. 

“I’ll fly out to see you next time, so you can show me around.” You smile.

“Are you guys serious? I told you to leave early so that this exact thing wouldn’t happen!”

Your eyebrows immediately furrow at the familiar voice, catching one last glance of your cousin as they enter the security screening area, waving to them while you mouth one last ‘text me when you land!’ as they leave your sight, before turning around to find the source of the voice.

No way it’s her, you thought. What’s she doing here?

As you get closer to the arrivals board, your questions are answered. Standing there in all her glory, is the one woman you never thought you’d lay your eyes on again.

“Natasha?”

You see the puzzled look on her face as she registers your voice before she even lays her eyes on you. Watching as the confusion turns to irritation - whether it was towards you or whoever was on the other side of the phone, you couldn’t tell (most likely both) - you watch as a deep sigh she releases as she glances at the board in front of her once again.

“-that’s another 10 hours before you guys even land.” She sighs, exasperation lacing her voice.

“Hey, listen if you need help-”

She holds a finger up to silence you, eyes meeting yours in a piercing glance. “I don’t need help, and especially not from you Y/N L/N.”

At her words, you look down, the sight of your shoes a welcome one as you take a second to recover. Honestly, you thought to yourself, I deserved that. 

“Yes, it’s Y/N- no I did not! I swear I didn’t know that they were here.” You hear her mutter from beside you. Deciding to save the both of you from further embarrassment, you turn your attention elsewhere, wondering what your cousin would say once you eventually tell them about who you ran into immediately after they left.

You lift your head back up when you hear Natasha mumble "you guys pick the day before Christmas of all days to be late for your flight” followed by a quick goodbye before hanging up the phone, watching her scope the airport for her next step. 

You could just leave and pretend this ever happened.

“Come on, Nat, I promise I just want to help.” You find yourself saying instead. “I can take you to your hotel when they get here.”

Well, there's no going back from that now.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Are you seriously asking me that right now?”

You really needed to stop opening your mouth.

“Okay, you know what, I deserve that.” You pause. “Listen, I’m not going to force you to come with me, but the offer is still there if you want it. You’ll get a free ride, plus you can use my apartment to rest and freshen up while you wait.”

 -x-

"I can't believe you talked me into this."

You spare a glance to Natasha, who was currently sitting in your passenger seat.

"You're the one that followed me to the car?"

She rolls her eyes at your confused tone, choosing to ignore what you said and instead checking her phone - most likely waiting for an update from whoever she was speaking to on the phone before. "I can't believe they missed their flight."

"Who's they?"

"Yelena, Maria, Wanda," she answers. "Oh, and Yelena's friend Kate too. I don't think you've met her."

You bit the inside of your cheek, because you already know that you didn't get to meet anyone named Kate while you were still together. You honestly didn't get to meet many of Natasha's friends whenever visited her - it was something you always fought over. It felt like she was ashamed of you, always wanting to keep you hidden, a secret she never planned on sharing with the world.

You refrain from asking any follow up questions - if Natasha wanted you to know more she would tell you.

Instead, you ask: "Did they manage to catch the next flight out?"

She nods. "I'm honestly surprised they did, considering how expensive it probably would've been. But knowing Maria, she probably would've pulled some strings to make it work."

Natasha finally looks up from her phone as you come to a stop, looking at the building you had just parked in front of.

"Where are we?"

"My apartment, I figured we could drop off your bags and you can freshen up before I show you around." You open the door for Natasha before moving to grab her bags from the trunk.

You lead her inside, setting her bags down in the living room before turning around to face Natasha - holding your arms out as you gesture to your living space. It's the first time she's ever stepped foot into this place, having only seen it through a phone screen since you were the one who would fly out to visit her when you were still together.

"I'll grab you some towels so you can freshen up, but make yourself at home." You say, gesturing for her to follow you down a hallway. "The bathroom is the first door to your left, there should be a spare toothbrush under the sink- wait did I give to my cousin? Well, we can grab you one while we're out but everything you need should be here."

You know you're rambling but you don't stop in fear of saying something stupid (which knowing you, is highly likely).

"If you want to take a nap, the guest room is just a little further down the hall on the right - I just changed the sheets so everything should be fresh."

It's not the way you wanted to be showing Natasha around your home for the first time, but you'll take what you can get. It'd be so easy to waltz back to the way things were, before everything fell apart but you didn't have the right to that anymore. You weren't a part of her life anymore.

You didn't know if she already had someone new in her life, maybe you were overstepping in so many ways and that it was best to just keep your distance. After all, you did promise that you just wanted to help. You were here to keep her company until the girls arrived and take her to the hotel when they finally did get here.

You know it's for the better to just move on, that after today she'll be gone and it'll be like she never made a reappearance in your life. But how could you when you know deep down that you still haven't fully moved on and that she'll always hold your heart in her hands?

Natasha's voice cuts off your reverie, bringing you back to the present as you hand her the towels.

"Give me an hour to shower and rest my feet for a bit, I wanna go out and explore while we wait."

 -x-

"Do you see that one over there? That's a hammerhead shark! They're one of the most powerful sharks in the ocean."

Natasha hears the little girl gasp, watching their eyes going wide with wonder. She can't help the small laugh that escapes when she sees the young girl lean closer towards the glass before loudly whispering, "is it going to eat us?"

You laugh softly, and Natasha can't help but think that she's missed hearing the sound of your laugh, something she thought she wouldn’t hear again. It comforts her slightly to know that it hasn't changed after all these years, and that  she can still easily recognise the sound as being yours only.

"It won't eat us! Sharks don't eat humans," she hears you explain. "They're more interested in fish and seals, than they are humans. But they are really strong swimmers, and they can smell things from miles away - even in water!"

She'd been watching you answer questions about sharks for the past 5 minutes, after a curious little girl ran up to while you were looking at the shark tank and asked if you knew what type of shark was swimming in front of the glass.

"Do sharks talk to each other?"

"They don't talk like we do, but they do communicate by using their bodies and how they move through the water. Some sharks even make sounds by rubbing their teeth together, kind of like a secret language that only they can hear."

It doesn't take long for the girl's mother to find the three of you, sighing in relief as she sees her daughter, looking up at you apologetically.

"Sorry, she's probably been asking you a million questions."

You give the woman a friendly smile and shake your head. "It was nothing, I loved answering all of her questions." You tell her. "It looks like you might have a future marine biologist on your hands."

"Let's leave the lovely ladies to enjoy the rest of their date, bubba."

"Oh- it's not-"

"We're not-"

The mother and daughter are already walking off before either of you could finish your sentences, leaving you and Natasha standing in front of the shark exhibit with red cheeks and thundering heartbeats. 

Natasha catches your eyes as you glance at her in a shy glance, and she knows it's too late. The warmth that passes through her as you smile, the same warm and knowing smile that you used to give her when everything was still okay was almost enough to bring her down to her knees.

You interrupt before her thoughts can spiral any further, clearing your throat before gesturing with your head the direction of the next exhibit.

"Shall we keep going?"

 -x-

Natasha sits across from you at a small café by the beach. You mention to her that it was your secret place, one that you go to when you wanted time to slow down and just have a moment to catch your breath. After the little incident at the aquarium, you guys decided it was best to just sit and people watch for the time being to avoid any more awkward interactions.

The warmth emanating from the cup of coffee did little to chase away the little chills that ran down her spine every time Natasha caught you gaze lingering on her for longer than you must've realised.

She told you about the plans that she and the girls had made for their vacation while you filled her in on your own life, telling her about your cousin that had just recently come to visit you just before Christmas.

"I'm glad you chose to come with me." You admit after a pause in conversation, voice soft. She turns to look at you, your eyes meeting hers with such an intensity it made her breath get caught in her throat. "I missed getting to talk to you like this."

She can tell that you spoke without thinking, the widening of your eyes giving you away. You look away, muttering a quiet "sorry" before lifting your drink to your lips in an attempt to hide the flush of your cheeks.

She was supposed to be over you. She'd told herself time and time again that she had moved on, but seeing you again, and being here with you, she couldn't deny that she was still in love with you. Having you so close yet so unreachable leaves an ache in her chest.

Throughout the time you two had been sat at the café, she watched you with fondness at the way your eyes lit up while you spoke with excitement in your voice about the things you and your cousin had gotten up to in the week they were with you; Natasha realises that she missed you too - and the comfort that you brought her just by simply being near.

"Nat? You okay?" The worry in your voice only deepens the ache in her heart.

"Yeah, no, sorry - I'm okay." She answers with a shaky nod, breathing deeply. She allows herself to feel her emotions, knowing that it would only do harm if she tried to deny herself this moment with you.

"I missed you too."

The sadness settles deep within her chest, the way you looked so shocked at her words - and she wonders if you were expecting her dismiss your words.

Her phone pings loudly from where it was placed on the table, the text tone sounding off four times in a row as her screen lights up between the two of you.

Natasha!! We've landed :D - Wanda

Sestra, we're on our way to the hotel now, tell lover girl to drop you off now - Yelena

Hi Nat, sorry again - we'll be there in 30 minutes! - Kate

I'll check us in if we make it to the hotel first, Nat, just let us know when you're there - Maria

You both watch as each text pops up on her phone, knowing that your time together was coming to an end.

Natasha watches as you ponder for a moment - wondering if you were going to add on to your words from before now that she's admitted that she missed you too. For a second it does seem like you're about to say something, but instead you just shake your head slightly to yourself, clearing your throat and as you look away, flagging down a waiter to pay for the meal you shared.

"We should probably get going if we want to get to the hotel at the same time as them."

She allows herself a moment to watch as you gather everything, absentmindedly listening to you talk about leaving now so we don't hit traffic - though I guess it's fair to make them wait, considering they made you wait like 10 hours, that's a practically a whole day wasted where you guys could've been sightseeing!

Natasha knows your putting on a brave front - she can see it in your eyes as you gather your wallet and keys, but she begrudgingly gets up after you pay for the bill, walking back with you to your car.

Already dreading the moment she has to say goodbye.

-x-

"Well, I guess this is where I leave you."

Pulling up at the front of the hotel, you catch a glance of Yelena, Kate and Wanda through the window. Even though you couldn't see her, you knew Maria wouldn't be too far away. Probably checking everyone in, you assumed as you parked your car near the entrance.

You do your best to avoid looking at Natasha, taking your time in getting out and grabbing her bags from the trunk, knowing this could very well be the last time you see her again. The thought alone breaks your heart all over again - you can recall all the times you've begged the universe to let your paths cross once more. Now that your wish has been granted and you're preparing to say goodbye to her once again, you deeply feel the loss of her from your life before it's even happened.

She's already watching you as you close the trunk. You hope that she can't see the tears that have been slowly building up since you started the drive to the hotel. You refuse to let yourself hope that the look in her eyes could mean anything order than gratitude.

"Thank you, Y/N, for today." She tells you softly.

"It's was nothing, Nat," you say with a smile, before softly adding, "you're welcome and I hope you guys have a Merry Christmas."

Getting lost in the silence that falls between you; you miss the way she's looking at you as you stare down at your shoes, waiting for her to grab her things and go so you can drive back to your apartment and sulk for the rest of the week. You wonder if she can see the way your hands are shaking as you wait for the inevitable goodbye.

"Y/N?"

You hum in response, not trusting your voice to stay steady if you decided to use actual words.

"I had a really good time today."

You tilt your head in curiosity. You've had a hard time all day trying to gauge if Natasha was having enjoying herself or not. There's no doubt in your mind that she would've said something if she wasn't.

"And it got me thinking," she continues. "I don't know- maybe I'm reading into everything wrong, and you can absolutely say no. You'll probably say no, because this is crazy, but I had to say something before I lose my mind-"

"Nat." You interrupt. As endearing as it was to hear her ramble on, to see her getting more and more flustered as she kept talking, you knew she'd work herself up before she every got to what she actually wanted to say.

"Breathe, love."

You nod encouragingly after she takes a deep breath, giving her time to gather her thoughts.

"Maybe it doesn't have to be so wrong, you know?" She starts. "To try again."

You try to hide the shock that you feel, but can't stop the way your eyes widen ever so slightly at her words. Never in a million years did you expect her to even say yes to spending the day with you, let alone suggest giving your relationship another go.

Does she mean just a friendship or an actual relationship?

Is she just saying that because of today?

What if she realises she doesn't actually mean that later on?

What if this was just a joke and she was just waiting for you to say yes so she can go "aha! I was just kidding as if I'd be serious."?

What if-

"We're different people now, don't you think?"

Confused but curious to know what else you had to say, she nods. "I'd say we are."

"We're older than we were before." You add. "We know a lot more about ourselves now, I'm not the scared kid I used to be."

You're scared of making the same mistakes you did all those years ago. But you also know that you're more than willing to learn from those mistakes; to stay and communicate to make things work instead of running away at the first sign of trouble. Because if there's anything you want more in the world, it's to make this work with her.

But just as much as you are scared, you can't help but be excited. Excited and honoured to learn more about this new Natasha, and fall in love with her all over again. You can't wait to find out what stayed the same, and what changed about her. Whatever she was willing to share with you, you'd gladly take.

"I could love you properly this time."

She gasps softly, and your heart pounds at the prospect of already scaring her away.

The thought of her friends seeing this happening through the window of the hotel briefly crosses your mind - you wonder if they'd approve of you making a return to Natasha's life or if they'll make you work for it after the way things ended between you two.

But she smiles, stepping into your personal space to wrap her arms around your neck and all thoughts leave your mind. The only thing you can focus on is Natasha pulling you closer so her words are only for your ears and your ears only to hear.

"I could love you properly this time too."

-----

@sadonism

[hxlxnaaa]

can i pretty please have the extended version of what happens in zaynes exclusive tutorial……. asking for a friend……..

ⁱ ᵃᵐ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈ….

𝐞𝐱𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐥

★ synopsis: an extended version of zaynes exclusive tutorial 5-star ;)

★ character: zayne

★ cw: first person pov, quickie SMUT!!!!, a lot of the dialogue is just taken from the card

★ word count: 3.5k

★ a/n: i literally have not wrote smut since i was at least 13...i lowkey blacked out writing this so if it sucks i'm so sorry. it was good practice though so ty for the request!

Internally, I was dreading this. As a Deepspace Hunter, low-key yet high end, relaxed events were not something I was accustomed to. While it was a nice change from the chaotic atmosphere of my own work, I couldn’t help but worry I may embarrass myself.

When Zayne first invited me, I was a bit surprised he’d ask me of all people. I was sure the man was convinced I’d, at some point during the night, make a fool of him and myself. Though I was pleased he thought of me, and honored to be chosen, it put the stakes of the night higher.

I tried to make myself as fancy as possible, without overdoing it, because I was convinced these people would know I was trying too hard. I mean, they were all top med school alumnus who probably made more in a day than I made in a year.

Walking in with Zayne, the club lighting was low with soft jazz playing in the background. I scanned the perimeter, and observed the people around. Nearly everyone had brought a companion, and I smirked to myself. Mentioning I could tell why he brought me along, I gestured for him to lean down to my level.

“Did you feel left out because everyone else brought someone? Is that why?”

Zayne looked back at me, “Yes. It’s why I invited you.”

“Lame… I thought you’d make up an excuse and deny it.

Bantering with him for a second, one of his classmates approached us. The two make small talk with each other, when the man finally introduces himself as Steven to me, reaching out for a handshake. Before I can even respond, Zayne quickly grabs my hand instead.

“Let’s find a place to sit down and talk.”

-

Sitting at the bar with Zayne and his classmates, I get to finally turn off my brain and just listen. All of them go on and boast about him, Steven particularly going on about his pool skills. Zayne sits comfortably with the attention, and it’s safe to assume he’s well accustomed to being the center of it all; though it didn’t last when I quickly caught his eye, as he gave me a helpless look.

“Do you want to go somewhere else?” He whispered to me, an edge to his voice that was practically begging me to get him out and away from these people.

Zayne grabs his drink, assuming I was going to agree, and I stop him. He gives me a confused look as I turn my body to fully face him. Deciding to have some fun, the drinks I’ve had giving me some liquid courage-

“I haven’t seen Dr. Zayne play pool either… Is he really that good?” I smiled at him.

He pauses, lips forming into a tight line, “Ah, so you’re ganging up on me.”

I was pushing the right buttons.

While another classmate comes up to Zayne, doting all over him like the others, as he goes on about “hands on learning” with him.

I smirk inwardly, taking a sip out of my wine glass. Oh yeah, I thought to myself, I’m gonna use that one.

After the man leaves, Zayne playfully pinches my ear, “I could see you eavesdropping from a mile away, did you find anything interesting?”

I looked up at him through my eyelashes, “I heard…” Pretending to think for a second, I looked around the room, then back at him, “you’re incredibly considerate to your juniors and are highly respected by everyone, Dr. Zayne”

He sighs, looking away, clearly unsatisfied with my answer. “I guess you can be nice…” I tapped his shoulder.

Zayne raises an eyebrow, “You guess? Do I not treat you well?”

Shrugging, I shake my head and raise my hands, feigning innocence, “It’s hard to say…” I take another sip out of my glass. “You never did any ‘hands-on’ learning with me.” Sticking out my lower lip in a pout, “And everyone says it’s an honor to be taught by you, sir…”

Putting down my wine glass, I sigh, “I wonder when I’ll get to experience it…”

“It seems you truly do want to learn about surgeries.” Zayne retorts.

“Who says it has to be for work?”

He looks at me, almost startled.

“Follow me.”

-

On the club's second floor, the billiard hall is tucked away, secret, and empty.

Perfect.

Walking forward, I circle around one of the pool tables.

“Why are we playing pool all of a sudden?” Zayne asks from behind me.

I flip my hair and look at him over my shoulder, “Because I wanna learn from you of course. Dr. Steven was praising your pool skills, but you’ve never mentioned them before.” I pushed my back to the table, leaning back on my hands.

Zayne walks up to me, “He was drunk and just rambling.”

“Oh? He said you were really good…” Cocking my head to the side to look at him, he stared back at me with intent, “Like a professional.”

“Maybe because a surgeon has steady hands.”

“Then-” I stood up straight again, crossing my arms and smiling sweetly, “it’d be nice if I could get some tips from you.”

“While I can’t give any tips per se, we can play.” He looks at me and smiles back, “If you want.”

Picking out two cue sticks, handing me the shorter one, he walks to one of the tables in the corner, “Have you played before?”

“Once or twice. People say I have potential,” Zayne raises a brow at my confidence, “but I ‘can play’.”

“Are you gonna be strict with me, sir?” I playfully swing around the cue stick. Zayne crosses his arms, leaning into me, “Strict teachers make outstanding students.” He states, “Let’s start.”

Gesturing for me to go, I lean over the table, feeling his eyes boring into me. I hold my breath as I hit the ball, the only sound in the room the echoes of the balls scattering.

Zayne chuckles under his breath, and I look back at him, “Did I do something wrong, sir?”

“You have more than enough strength. If you adjust your posture, you’ll see better results.”

“I need you to help me identify my weak spots via ‘hands-on learning’, sir.”

I watch as his facade begins to crumble a bit, before he quickly regains himself, “We’ll have to work on your posture then.”

Coming up next to me, I stand up straight as he leans down over the table, “Like this. Place your right foot back…” He strikes, graceful as ever. When I try, I look like a klutz.

Bent over the table, he comes up behind me. “Relax,” He whispers, “you’re too tense.” He places his hand on my back, and almost as a reflex to his touch, my waist immediately bends. “Now you’re too relaxed.” He clicks his tongue as I become jelly under his touch.

“Relax your left arm. Allow it to bend naturally.” His arm snakes up under mine, “Your head, right arm, and the cue stick should form a straight line.”

He places his hand softly on my cheek, shifting my head to the left, “How is it?”

“It,” I winced at the uncomfortable position, “hurts a little.”

I hear him smile, “That means it’s correct.”

Making a face, I try to give him my most pitiful look.

“You’re so harsh, sir.”

He grabs my chin, making me face the table again. The gesture makes me gasp.

“Don’t tilt your head.” Zayne remarks, “You messed up your posture again.”

“Is there an easier way? Like something I can do without much trouble?”

“Yes, but are you sure you want to do it?”

I groan, my body feeling stiff from holding this pose for so long, “Bring it on.”

I feel him shift from beside me, “Don’t move for now.”

Zayne comes up behind me, positioning himself where his chest is flush against my back. Reaching his arms around me, one of his hands comes up to grab mine. Lowering his head, I feel his breath on my neck as his lips settle next to my ear, “Your rhythm with the cue stick…isn’t quite there yet.” My eyelids flutter closed at his voice, “You need more hands-on training.”

He directs me carefully, “You should neither be too fast nor too hesitant.” His words sound distant as all I can focus on is the feeling of his body pressed against mine, as heat spreads in between my thighs.

My hand is enveloped in his, and the back and forth motion of the cue stick slows down, “Move the cue stick three or four times..” He instructs, everything about this feeling overwhelmingly provocative, “Stop at the point closest to the ball…”

“Did you get that?” He whispered, turning his head away from the pool table to face mine.

“Yeah…” Was all I could muster back.

Softly smirking, he turned back to follow my vision, “Keep your eyes on the ball, one…two…three…” I think I may actually combust if he keeps this up.

“Stop, and pull back the cue stick.”

He loosens his grip on me, “Snap out of it. Are you even listening to me?”

No, not really Zayne. I can really only focus on not grinding back into you right now.

“Ah yes,” I cough, “Pull back the stick…”

“Very good, just like that…” I bite back a whimper and the urge to rub my legs together at his praise, he knows good and well what he’s doing.

“Now…strike.”

I hit the ball, and when it goes in I snap out of whatever hypnotic haze I was in.

“It’s in!”

Zayne pulls back, and I stand up straight, placing my hands on my hips. “Did you see that? It was a great shot! I’m so cool…” Flipping my hair over my shoulder, I flash him a smile.

“I did.” He smiles warmly back, “You’re not a total beginner.”

“Maybe it’s because I practice shooting all the time. Or, it’s possible I’m a prodigy…” I started regaining my confidence after it had ever so slowly faltered on the pool table.

“Perhaps.” Zayne shrugs, “To be honest, all you need to be good at pool is…”

He leans over the edge of the table, looking over at me. My breath hitches at the sight.

“A steady hand, precision, and a calm attitude.” His eyes bore into mine, “Once you’ve locked into your target, don’t let go.”

I swallowed. Even though he was clearly talking about the ball, it felt oddly personal.

He has me play a bit more, teaching me as I go. I easily earn his praises and they ring like music in my ears.

“If a student does a good job,” I remind him, “shouldn’t they get a reward?”

He considers it for a second, “What do you want?”

Confidence bubbling up again inside of me, I sigh dramatically. “Well, it might be difficult to hit this next ball. Help me.”

“Is that all?” Zayne asks, clearly not convinced. Pausing before coming to help me, I give him a smug look, “What’s wrong Dr. Zayne? Are you scared?”

I was pushing my luck, and loving every second of it.

He frowned, “Provocation doesn’t work on me.”

“Then come here.” I nodded toward the pool table, giving him a sweet smile.

Zayne inches towards me, only moving slightly closer.

“Closer.” I demand, “Or else I can’t reach it.”

He gives me a confused look, “What exactly…”

I grab him by the collar, pushing him back onto the table. Zaynes cheeks turn pink as he stares up at me with a shocked expression. Lips slightly agape, I can see a million thoughts running behind his eyes. The dumbfounded look on his face makes me want to take him on the table right now.

“Look,” I pout, “the ball’s so far away. I think it’s time to use a cue rest.”

I tap the cue stick on each side of his head. Zayne narrows his eyes at me, “Using cue rests would be overkill.” He sits up, and I use the stick to slowly tug out his tie, “And this,” he glares, “is inappropriate.”

Though he feigns annoyance, the look in his eyes is a dead giveaway.

“But…” I pull the stick away leaning towards him, my breath dusting his ear, “I think you’re enjoying it…” He looks down and away at the table, clearly embarrassed, “I shouldn't have taught you so much” he mutters.

Running my fingers through his dark hair, I slowly tease my hand down his body, caressing his face, down to his chest, down to where I see where he’s aching for me to touch the most. I coo at him when I see the desperate look in his eyes, and quickly snap my hand away before I reach the bulge growing in his nice slacks.

Zaynes face is red hot as he sits up on the table enough that he’s eye level with me, “Who taught you to use your teacher as a cue rest…” he frowns.

“Well,” I place my hand on his chest over his heart, “this cue rests heartbeat is going to ruin my accuracy.” I tut.

“Is it my heartbeat affecting your accuracy, or yours?” His hand comes up to caress my cheek, “If you actually want to learn, I can show you another way…”

Zayne leans in, lips almost to mine before I grab his shoulder and push him back. He looks at me, wide eyed at the denial.

“Sir, this seems to be lacking professionalism.” Crossing my arms across my chest, his lips curve at my attempt to scold him.

“Weren’t you just using me as a cue rest?” He leans back in, “Talking about professionalism… is a bit too late.”

As he grabs me by my waist, I push him back onto the table again as a reply. The gesture only lasts a few seconds before Zayne smiles at me, quickly sitting up and using his hand around my waist to reverse us; flipping me onto my back and onto the table, he settled in between my legs. I squeak at the sudden change, as he now hovers over me, my head caged between his arms.

“Why don’t you let me show you…” Zayne pulls back, standing up straight. He grabs his cue stick, “Watch closely, I’m only going to do it once.”

Pushing his chest against mine, he goes for the ball right behind my head. His head hovers right above my face, and I lean up to place a kiss on his adams apple right as he strikes the ball. I have half a mind to bite into his neck, but he quickly stands back up as he watches the ball go in.

He looks down at me, and I’m sure I look utterly disheveled. From where he stood in between my thighs, my dress had ridden up high enough that every inch of my bottom half was almost on display for him to see. My hair was splayed out around me on the table, and my chest heaved with the breath I was so desperately trying to catch.

The sexual tension that had slowly built up throughout the night was now thick enough to cut with a knife. Smiling softly, Zayne tilts my chin up, caressing my jaw as his thumb slowly parted my lips, dipping it past my teeth and pressing it against my tongue. “Pretty little mouth…” he mutters, staring at the way his finger sits in between my lips. I look up at him through half-lidded eyes, sucking down on his thumb.

He frowns, “Always such a tease.” Zayne sighs, picking up my ankle, pressing a kiss to it. I craved his lips on mine, but I always enjoyed the shows he’d put on for me. He continued to kiss up my calf, closing his eyes as he felt my skin against his lips.

“Zayne.” I demanded, and he looked at me annoyed, as if I was interrupting something.

“Yes?”

“Kiss me…”

He leaned down, nose brushing against mine, but not meeting my lips. I pushed myself up, trying to connect us, but he pulled away at the last second. Frustrated and tired of his games, I grabbed Zayne by his tie, crashing my lips against his, pulling him down on top of me onto the table.

“Behave.” He groaned as I took his bottom lip in my teeth, tugging softly. Grabbing my wrists with his hand, he pinned them above my head. Zayne’s free hand roamed up my thigh, fingers dusting over the place I was praying for him to touch the most.

I squirmed under him as he toyed with the lace on my panties, never dipping his fingers past. His grip on my wrists tightened, lips leaving mine so our eyes could meet. Waves of lust crashed in his green eyes.

“What do you want?” His lips kissed down my neck and chest.

“You to touch me.” I whimpered.

He tsked, “Beg.”

“I’m sorry?”

“You heard me. Or do I need to teach you how to do that too?” Zayne nipped at my collarbone, then kissed the skin.

“Please…”

“What was that?”

“Please, Zayne.” Everytime I said please, his fingers inched closer to the arousal pooling in between my thighs, “Zayne, please, please, fuck, please.”

I felt him smile against my skin, and he dipped a finger inside of me.

Clenching around him, I moaned at the satisfaction.

Zayne groaned, “God, you’re so wet. You’ve been eager all night…” Pumping in and out, I stifled my whimpers and moans against his shoulder. He let go of my wrists, and my hands flew to his collar, gripping for dear life as he added another finger.

Tracing his thumb on my clit, two fingers curling up inside of me, Zayne always knew just how to make me come undone. He could get off on this alone, watching me fall apart underneath him by just his hands. I was seeing stars, thinking nothing could get better than this.

Zayne pulled away, and I cried out at the emptiness. He stood there for a second, just taking all of me in, “You’re so beautiful.” He took off his tie, gently grabbing me by the back of my head and lifting it up so he could tie the fabric around my mouth as a makeshift gag.

“As much as I love to listen to you, I don’t want anybody else to hear. Is that all right?”

I nodded at him and he smiled, petting my cheek, “Good girl.”

Reaching forward, I palmed his hard on through his nice, business slacks. The idea of them being around his ankles as he takes me on this table was enough to almost make me cry from joy. Sighing at the friction, Zaynes eyes fluttered closed, and I worked my hand up and undid his belt. Getting too eager, he freed himself, and slid my panties down to where they loosely dangled off one of my heels.

“I wish I could take my time with you,” He pressed his tip against my opening, “but this will have to do.” Sinking all the way down to the hilt, I choked out a muffled scream, squeezing my eyes shut as the tie killed my lewd noises.

Zayne grabbed my chin, fingers digging into my skin, “Eyes open.” He demanded, pulling out, and slamming back in, “Keep looking.”

Already overwhelmed from the stimulation he provided earlier, tears welled up in my eyes from just how good all of it felt. The impossibly delicious way he could fill me up, lips dancing across my skin as he chased after his own pleasure. His hand gripping into my hips, most likely leaving bruises, as he drilled into me; kissing my palm before biting into the skin to muffle his own groans.

Zayne’s skin glistened with sweat, the top buttons of his shirt undone, his lips red and swollen from my aggressions. He railed into me like a maniac, like he was fucking starving. Gracefully, his hand found its way back in between my thighs, finding the bundle of pleasure that made me cry out. At the feeling I blinked out tears, my eyes burning from the mascara I was practically sobbing away. I was moments away from ruining this table beneath me, and Zayne knew that.

He grabbed my neck, almost as if for stability as he picked up his pace. Desperately rolling his hips against mine, I clenched down around him “Just.. like that, oh... God." He moaned. I lifted my hips up to meet his thrusts, trying to chase my own release and his. Zayne looked me in the eyes, squeezing the hand around my neck, “My girl. Mine.” He groaned.

With one last thrust and his praise, I was screaming behind the tie, shaking from my release beneath him. Digging my nails into his biceps, his hips stuttered, and with a moan he pulled out, finishing all over my nice dress.

Zayne nearly collapsed on top of me as we laid there for a while, just soaking in the aftermath. As he pulled away, I watched him cringe at the mess he had left on me. For some reason, I started laughing.

“What’s that for?” He questioned.

I continued to giggle, “I didn’t know you were that good at pool…”

“If we had more time, I’d show you more of my techniques…”

Slapping him on the shoulder, I sat up, and he swept me off the table and back onto my feet. Brushing my hair with his fingers, he attempted to wipe away the mascara stains on my cheeks. “I know the back way out of here,” He pressed a kiss to my temple.

(divider by cafekitsune)

[talesfromawannabewriter]

@things-arent-what-they-seem66

Cain thought good and hard about what he wanted. On the one hand there was the possibility of having to deal with the overbearing mess of his father and Charlie. On the other….His mom needed him. That was enough to make up his mind.

Cain: (Nods) let’s go.

Satan smiled at his mate and immediately conjured a portal to where Adam was.

—

Adam screamed as he felt another contraction hit him. It had been so long since he felt a great pain such as this. He didn’t even get periods up in Heaven, because again it was Heaven. Meaning no physical pain. Currently he was lying in a hospital bed, sweating bullets while all the doctors and nurses kept jittering about.

As for Lucifer he was trying his utmost to comfort his mate.

Lucifer: It’ll be alright love just breathe

He demonstrated

Lucifer: Three in, one out. It’s easy

Lucifer regretted those words the moment they came out. Adam turned and for the first time in a while gave him the scariest rage filled expression he had seen since he was still an angel. Possibly worse.

Adam: Lucifer is you want your penis to remain intact by the time our daughter is delivered then I suggest you shut the absolute fuck up!

The words came out in a low growl as his eyes flashed yellow. Adam then went back to trying to block out the pain. After about a minute of that a behemoth nurse came up to him asking if he wanted an epidural.

Adam: W, w, what’s t, that?

Nurse: An epidural your highness is a drug used on delivering mothers so that they won’t be able to feel any kind of pain, just slight pressure.

The nurse suddenly found herself mere inches away from the Queen’s face as he pulled her in and screamed,

Adam: PUT ALL THE DRUGS INSIDE ME!!!!

—

Cain and Satan entered the hospital and spotted Charlie sitting in one the lobby’s chairs with her mate beside her. He marched right up to her and asked in a serious tone,

Cain: What room is my mom in?

Charlie: Cain? What-

Cain: What room is my mom in Charlie!?

Charlie: Delivery room 666 on the third floor.

Cain: Ok thanks!

Cain made a dash toward the elevators leaving all three demons behind. Satan didn’t blame him, he was just worried. Instead he sat down next to his mate’s sister and her mate as they waited. By the time Cain made it he was almost out of breath as he swung the door open. Where the sight of his mother vulnerable while a doctor invected something in him. Cain: MAMA! Adam turned to see his eldest child in the doorway. Tears filed his eyes as a wobbly smile rose from his lips.

Adam: CAIN!

The two once humans rushed to embrace each other. Cain: Oh Mama I’m so fucking sorry. I never meant to cause any stress or for my sister to come early. Please, please, please forgive me.

Adam: There’s nothing to forgive. Cain I’m the one sorry for pushing you when you obviously weren’t ready. I just didn’t want discord around our baby. But I know you can’t force people to like each other. Someday you’ll see how much those two love you. But I can’t blame you for being angry at your father for not listening or your sister for not understanding. And I wish I can say more but I’m about to have another contraction so if you’ll excuse me AGHHHH!!!!!

Adam screeched as he rode out the pain. Thankfully, it wasn’t as long as the first ones. It meant the medicine was already kicking in. Cain: Mom is there anything I can do? Like get Dad! Wait where is he?

He noticed the lack of his father.

Adam: He went out to get me ice chips and check on Charlie. Hopefully by the time he gets back the pain meds will have fully kicked in.

Cain watched, completely helpless as his poor mother started to clutch his belly as another one hit him. He winced feeling pain just from seeing his mom in pain. He still remembered back on Earth when it happened. Unless one of them could help they were to remain outside the den. By order of their papa.

When some of his brothers and sisters learn to become mid wives did Cain ms worry slightly dull. However, there was still the heartbreak of not being able to take the pain away. Something that when he learned why it happened made Cain curse the angels. Looking back it was probably one of the reasons they made him commit the first murder. Still Cain wanted to help his mother relax, to ease the attention and get his mind off of the pain. At least until there was none.

An idea popped into his mind like a light bulb. Tenderly he grabbed one of Adam’s hands, the other reaching around to his back and began rubbing soothing circles. Both on his back and hand. He then began to hum and Adam instantly recognized the melody. It was the same one he used to sing to Cain.

As the song progressed Adam’s anxiety dwelled along with the pain. Until finally it was gone at long last. He reached a shaky hand to Cain’s head and tussled his fluffy hair affectionately. Adam: Thank you my sweet baby boy. You’re a good son.

The First Anti-Christ

@things-arent-what-they-seem66

(excuse me for the long prologue)

Anti Christ, the child of the fallen one, the devil. Everyone knows of the name and what it means. However, they don’t know of WHO that child is do they? Everyone thinks that the child will make themselves known as they bring on the end of humanity. What people don’t realize is that the anti-Christ has already walked upon the Earth.

In fact he was the first to be born on the planet. You see he was one of the very first humans. The very first child and son of the mother of humanity, Adam the first omega. His name was Cain.

Now many must be wondering on how this came to be. Why did it happen. How and why did the first omega manage to give birth to the fallen one’s offspring. All will be explained here, in this story.

A long, long, long, time ago when the Earth was still young the creator of it had decided on what its final inhabitants would be. They were called humans, the very first of their kind. He made them into something special. With their names came their designations.

Lilith the first woman and alpha

Adam the first man and omega

He made the two to be companions, to watch over another as one would for a friend or as he hoped like siblings. However, his other creations had other plans. While the Lord was busy attending to his purpose of watching over the universe. The other creations, the angels went down to the humans and they told the two that they were more than just companions. They told them that they were mates and they would bring forth true humanity.

Both were confused and asked how? The angels told them that once a month Adam’s womb would welcome Lilith’s seed and instructed him for when the time came for Adam to lay on his back and to spread his legs for his mate. When they heard of this both were rather disgusted by it. They hadn’t known each other for long but they simply weren’t compatible in that way. They couldn’t even bother to be friends for they both had too many differences that often clashed with each other.

While Adam was energetic and outgoing, Lilith was reserved and careful. It would often cause arguments from the two, especially when it came to their duties. Their first duties, of naming and caring for everything in the garden. Lilith thought Adam to be immature. Adam thought Lilith to be demanding. Both seemed to think that nothing was ever good enough for each person. One thing they both could agree on is that they did not wish to be mates.

Still Adam did not wish to upset the angels and simply bowed his head and nodded submissively. They began to explain other sets of rules that both were to follow. Lilith as the alpha was to always provide and care for her omega. Adam as the omega was to always follow her way and submit to his alpha. Both were to bring children into this world.

Lilith would become the father of humanity. While Adam would become the mother of humanity.

Lilith, disgusted at the thought, disagreed wholeheartedly. She fled from the garden and away from the omega. Hoping to never set another foot in there again. She was found by someone, an angel of the Lord himself, whom she would soon call a friend and sometime after that a husband. Though she didn’t trust him at first she eventually told the angel of why she ran from paradise.

The angel was shocked and confused. Why would his siblings do that? Why would they mess with his Father’s creations that way? He wanted so badly to go up there and tell his Father of what they had done to Lilith. He knew that they would somehow find a way to pin the blame onto him.

That is why he came up with a new plan. To meet and talk to Lilith’s supposed mate. What he didn’t know at the time was that the omega was actually his true mate.

He crept into the garden, careful not to aware the elders of his presence. What awaited him in the garden was not what he expected. A true beauty, one that took his breath away. Though he had thought Lilith to be pretty. She was nothing compared to Adam.

His soft brown hair, honeyed eyes that sparkled, and tan skin that was splattered by freckles. His Lucious curves was enough to drive him insane. The angel managed to open his mouth and introduced himself. His name was Lucifer, the angel of light and God’s most favored son.

[the-offside-rule]

Lance Stroll (Aston Martin) - Happy Hanukkah

Day 24 of Christmas

Prompt: The Differences in Christmas

25 Days Of Christmas

Y/n was filled with excitement as she stepped off the plane, a flurry of anticipation swirling around her. Christmas was just around the corner, and she was invited to spend the holidays with her boyfriend, Lance, at his family home. As she arrived, she took in the lavish surroundings, the elegant decorations, and the warm, inviting atmosphere that enveloped her. As she settled in, she stumbled into the living room, looking confused at how bare it looked and wondering why there was no tree.

"Lance?" She called out, looking around. Lance peeped in. "Where’s your Christmas tree?" Lance chuckled softly, a hint of surprise flickering in his eyes. "Y/n, I’m Jewish, remember?" He replied gently, his smile reassuring. "We don’t have a Christmas tree." Her face flushed in realization. "Oh! Right! I completely forgot." She admitted, laughing at her own oversight. "So what do you do instead?"

Lance was more than happy to explain. "Well, we celebrate Hanukkah instead." He said simply. "It’s a festival of lights. We light the menorah, play dreidel, and eat traditional foods. It’s a little different from Christmas, but it’s just as special in its own way." Y/n listened intently, fascinated by the rich traditions he described. "What kind of foods?" She asked, her curiosity piqued. "Latkes, which are potato pancakes, and sufganiyot, which are jelly-filled donuts." He explained, his eyes lighting up at the mention of the treats. "We’ll make some together!" The thought of spending time with Lance in the kitchen made her heart flutter. "I can’t wait to try them!" She said enthusiastically.

The next morning, Y/n and Lance were in the kitchen, the warm scent of donuts lingering in the air. "I just need to grab something from upstairs." She said, wiping her hands on a towel. As she made her way through the expansive house, she stumbled upon a door that was slightly ajar. Curiosity getting the better of her, she peeked inside. It was Lawrence’s office, filled with books and family photos. One picture caught her eye: a younger Lance beaming as he helped his father prepare food for the final day of Hanukkah.

"Oh! I’m so sorry!" Y/n exclaimed, stepping back. "I didn’t mean to intrude. I was just exploring and got lost." Lawrence looked up, a friendly smile on his face. "No problem at all, Y/n. You can join me if you'd like." He invited, motioning for her to sit down. "I was just reminiscing about those days. Lance loved helping out in the kitchen." Y/n felt at ease as she sat down, her initial embarrassment fading away. "He told me you celebrate Hanukkah. I’d love to hear more about it, I just don't wanna annoy him with all the questions I'm asking about it."

Lawrence was more than willing to share. He talked about the significance of the menorah, the stories behind each night of Hanukkah, and how the family would gather to celebrate together. The conversation flowed easily, and Y/n felt grateful for the insight.

Just then, Lance walked by, overhearing snippets of their conversation. He paused, feeling a swell of pride as he watched his dad share their family traditions with her. “Dad, what are you telling her?” He called out, playfully suspicious. "Just some stories about your childhood." Lawrence replied with a grin. "Did know your girlfriend is curious about our traditions?" Lance smiled, his heart swelling. "I’ll take her to the airport to pick up Chloe and Scotty. She can learn more about Hanukkah from them!"

On the car ride to the airport, Y/n leaned back in her seat, looking out the window as the scenery rushed by. Lance glanced over at her, a content smile on his face. "Are you finding everything okay?" He asked, genuine concern lacing his voice. "Oh, I’m loving it!" She exclaimed, her eyes sparkling. "Your dad told me so much about Hanukkah. It’s all so interesting!" Lance’s heart skipped a beat. He thought to himself, I’ve definitely found the one. They arrived at the airport and helped bring the bags back to the car. Y/n chatted animatedly with Chloe and Scotty as they walked ahead, while Lance lagged behind, soaking in the happiness of the moment.

As they loaded the car, Chloe turned to Lance with a knowing smile. "This is the happiest I’ve seen you in a while." She remarked. "It’s because I’ve realized I’ve found the one." Lance replied, a serious note in his voice. Chloe rolled her eyes playfully. "You’ve said that about the last two girlfriends, and we all know how that ended."

"Yeah, but this time it’s different, and I know I've said thay before too, but I mean it this tims." He insisted, his gaze locked on Y/n, who was laughing with Scotty.

Once they were back in the car, they turned on the radio, and Christmas songs filled the air. Y/n joined in, singing off-key but with pure joy, and Lance couldn’t help but smile at the sight. Chloe watched them, feeling a warmth in her heart, like when she and Scotty started dating and still to this day felt. She finally understood what Lance had been saying; he had found someone special.

*please lmk if there are any mistakes! This is just the understanding I have from my Jewish friend about Hanukkah*

[qrrieterisunnq]

Meeting The Jones - Jack Hughes

strawberry girl masterlist

JACK!HUGHES X AMARA!JAMES — WARNINGS: crying, fluff, unedited, a little bit of angst, arguing — SUMMARY: It’s Christmas and Jack and Amara plan on having a peaceful day by themselves, (plus Esmeralda and Luke). But when their apartment doorbell rings and her parents' faces pop out, Amara knows it will be a long day. — WORD COUNT: 4,6K PART OF STRAWBERRY GIRL AU

Soft purrs sound through the living room along with low sounds coming from the tv, which is playing in the background, while Jack and Amara are cuddled on the couch, giggling and talking to each other, with Esmeralda on Amara’s lap.

“Oh, oh, and do you remember when Luke fell off the boat and popped out with the algae on his head?” both laugh at the memory that happened only a few months ago when they were in Michigan.

“Yeah, that was hilarious.” Jack throws his head back from laughter, his hands resting on Amara’s belly massaging it slightly.

“I remember your mom's face when she saw him.” Amara giggles her hair tickling Jack’s face but he doesn’t care.

The smile on his face only grows as he keeps listening to the angelic giggles and the soft purrs Esmeralda is making. His eyes are traveling between his girlfriend and the cat lying on her lap, his little family—a family he chose and wouldn’t change for anything.

When he’s about to say something, the doorbell rings through their apartment he stops himself and looks down at Amara with a questionable look.

“You expecting someone?” the confusion is written even on Amara’s head as she shakes her head no.

“No, but it could be Nico or someone.” She shrugs and both of them stand up and approach the door, opening it without bothering to ask who it is. As soon as the doors swing open and the seven faces of Amara’s family pop out, she stumbles backward almost dropping Esmeralda down, but Jack steadies her and smiles politely towards the people standing outside the apartment.

“W-what are you doing here?” Amara asks, her voice shaky just like her hands.

“Oh, I raised you better Amara! No ‘Hello! How are you? Please come in.’” her mother tsk, shaking her head as she holds her Louis Vuitton bag on her forearm.

“So will you invite us in or should we stay standing in the hallway?” this time it’s Adela who speaks, causing Jack to cringe at the sound of her voice.

“Yeah sure, come in, take a seat,” Jack says instead of Amara, ushering them inside. “Something to drink?” he asks as soon as he closes the doors and with his hand on Amara’s lower back her motions her deeper inside the apartment.

“Oh my gosh! You still have the cat?” Adela asks with disgust written all over her face as she stares at the fluffy ball on the couch. “Anyway, Liam will be here in a few, the girls wanted some drink or whatever.” Before Adela can shove Esmeralda down the couch, Amara runs to her and picks her up in her arms.

“Something to drink?” Jack asks again, standing behind Amara as he watches her family look around their place with judgment.

“Ah, yes, I’d like a Latte please,” Amara’s mom says a fake smile sitting on her lips. “And I forgot to mention this, but we’ll be staying at yours.” This time a mischievous smile lingers on her lips.

“F-for how long?” Amara asks in shock, stumbling back slightly and hitting Jack’s chest.

“Two days. But don’t worry, Liam and the girls will stay in a nearby hotel,” the first time Amara’s father, Michael, says something. “And I would like a black coffee.”

“And you Adela?” Jack asks her and diverts his eyes from her father to her. She batted her lashes, checking him out before answering.

“Oh, I’d like an iced coffee, but I’ll help you, I need to do it myse—” Amara doesn’t let her finish, her eyes widening in disbelief, as she watches her sister flirt with her boyfriend.

“I can make it, Adela. You are visiting.” Ara smiled at her, convulsively dragging Jack into the kitchen.

As soon as they get inside, she lets out a sigh of relief and starts boiling the water for the coffee. She strolls around the kitchen looking for the perfect glasses for the coffee her family wanted.

“Hey, hey, slow down, Berry,” Jack grabs her arm, stopping her in her tracks. “They can wait, okay.”

“No, no, they can’t,” she sighs, resting her head on his chest and taking a deep breath. “Oh my gosh! I completely forgot to introduce you to them!” She looks at him with horror in her eyes.

“Hey, take a deep breath, baby! I think they already know who I am, but if they don't, then that's okay. Just take a deep breath and let me help you with the drinks, okay?” He takes her face in his hands, kissing the top of her nose, drawing a soft giggle from Amara.

“Thank you.” Amara lets out a sigh and closes her eyes to calm her nerves slightly.

“So how did you two meet?” Spencer asks as soon as Amara and Jack sit down after the second round of drinks, this time for Spencer and his family.

“Through our mutual friend, Nico,” Amara smiles softly at her older brother while she pets Esmeralda sitting on her lap. “You actually know him.”

“Yeah, the Swiss guy! Nice dude.” he nods, looking over at his kids silently playing in the corner of the room.

“Yeah, and what about you? How are you doing in Norway?” Jack asks Spencer’s wife, Anniken, with a smile on his face when he sees how out of place she feels. He rests his hand on Amara’s thigh, noticing the look Adela sends their way.

Spencer smiles softly at his wife when she starts speaking. “Really good. At least from my side,” she giggles, her thick accent noticeable in her voice, but both Amara and Jack find it cute.

“The same goes for me. I made a lot of friends here, and I have a job I really enjoy, so it’s amazing here.” Spencer finishes, kissing the side of his wife's head.

“Just a quick question. Are you planning on staying here for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day?” Amara asks out of place, but she needs to know if she has to go grocery shopping because they have food only for two of them.

“Yeah, I thought it was clear.” her mother says in a ‘duh’ tone, rolling her eyes.

“Okay, I was just asking,” Amara murmurs shaking her head slightly. Jack squeezes her thigh, not wanting her to have a fight with her mom or to be sad. “I will go grocery shopping tomorrow, I’ll take Nico with me because I want you to stay in here with them,” she whispers in his ear and then looks into his eyes pleadingly.

“Yeah, sure baby.” He kisses the side of Amara’s face bringing her closer to him.

“Hi, sorry about this,” Amara says when she enters Nico’s car. It’s seven a.m., and she is on her way to do the grocery shopping.

“Hey, it’s okay. I get it,” He smiles at you as he pulls off. “So how long are they staying?” he asks slowing down at the lights, handing her his phone so she can play their shared playlist.

“Until Christmas Day, " she says with annoyance. It’s not that she doesn’t love her family—she does, well, at least her brother’s family—but she wants a quiet and calm Christmas.

“That long?” he asks in disbelief, his brows almost touching his hairline. “Jesus, good luck with them.”

“Yeah, thank you.” She sighs, resting her head against the seat. “Anyway, I need to buy more food because I had only for me, Jack, and Lu,” she sighs again, opening her notes where she had written the shopping list last night.

“I think if Luke finds out your family is here, he’ll stay at mine. You know he doesn’t like them,” he says, trying to make something funny from the situation, but when Amara looks at him with sadness in her eyes, he instantly regrets it. “I didn’t mean it like that, Ara.” He sighs, mentally slapping himself.

“I know, Ni. I’m just sad that they are as they are.”

“Yeah well, you got to see them only once per year so don’t let them overwhelm you. You have your family here. You know that guys love you.”

“Yeah, I know, and I love them.” she smiles nudging his hand.

“Okay, now tell me where we are going.”

Amara wakes up due to loud sounds coming from the kitchen. She looks next to her, where Jack usually lies when he has a day off, but not today. In her pajamas, she leaves the bedroom, only to be met with the loud voices of her mother and Adela and the sweet smell of something Jack is cooking.

Still sleepy she walks through the living room, not caring about the looks her mother and sister are giving her, and enters the kitchen, her head bumping into something firm but soft.

“Oh babes,” Jack chuckles, wrapping his hands around her as does she. “Still sleeping, right?” he asks pressing soft kisses in her hair making her melt into his embrace.

Tiredly she nods against his chest, breathing in his calming scent. Her arms lock behind Jack's back as she presses tighter against his firm body.

“You want coffee and something for breakfast, Berry?” he asks, his hand rubbing comforting circles on her back because he knows that waking up for her is sometimes hard.

“Please.”  She nods and rasps out.

“Okay, go get yourself ready and when I finish your food I’ll come for you okay? I am just finishing their breakfast and then I’ll politely tell them to go out for a few hours so Luke can come over and help us prepare the food. Okay?” he whispers in her ear, gently unlocking her hands from behind his back.

“Thank you, J.” She kisses his cheek and turns around walking out of the kitchen to their bedroom, but when she’s already inside she hears something that catches her ear.

“No wonder Jack flirts with me when she looks like this.”

Amara closes the door behind herself taking in a deep breath. “Jack loves you. He would never flirt with Adela.” She says to herself trying to believe those words, but this little voice inside her head tells her that she’s naive if she thinks that he would not.

She hates it when her head is against her. The voice inside her should say ‘Girl! You are gorgeous and you know Jack’s head over heels in love with you! He would never!’ but it says the opposite, and she hates it.

She enters the bathroom and looks at her face in the mirror. She cringes at the sight. Her hair is messy, and she has marks from the pillow on her cheeks.

She shakes her head and starts with her morning skin routine.

 “Lu? Can you please hand me the sour cream, please?” she says over her shoulder.

“Yeah sure,” he smiles, opening the fridge and pulling out the sour cream and handing it to her. “You are doing mashed potatoes?”

“Yeah, the cheddar ones. Why? You don’t like them?” she asks in horror as she turns at him with tears forming in her eyes. This is the first Christmas she has together with Jack and Luke, plus her family and she doesn’t want to mess up.

She loves Jack’s family, and she really doesn’t want them to hate her, just because she cooked something her sons don’t eat.

“No, no I love them, really Berry!” Luke says quickly, not wanting his sister-in-law to cry.

“Really?” she looks up at him, from under her lashes, wiping under her eyes.

“We all love them, if Quinn was here, he would eat it all by himself.” He says with a smile, bringing her in a hug. She laughs at his comment snuggling inside his chest.

“Oh, come one Luke! Find your own girlfriend and leave mine.” Jack shouts when he sees his brother hugging his girlfriend.

Luke moves from her with his hands in the air, laughing at his brother’s jealous ass. “Calm down big boy! Just having a brother and sister moment with my sister.”

“Well, I found her first so find yours.” He murmurs as cradles Amara in his arms. She stays there for a while but after a few seconds, she gets out of his embrace and moves to the mashed potatoes she was doing a moment ago.

Right now she doesn’t really wanna be in Jack’s presence after what she heard, but she doesn't want to create tension here, especially on Christmas, so she smiles at him and continues cooking.

“Okay so I am gonna do the Prime Rib, so you Luke, you can make the stuffing, what do you say?” Jack suggests, sending Luke a look that says, ‘don’t you dare’. Luke chuckles and nods his head, all three of them getting into the work.

After about three hours of cooking, they are already done and curled up on their couch. “Lu, I just want you to know that if you don’t want to spend Christmas with us because of my family, Nico said that he will be glad if you come over,” Amara says in a sad tone because she knows he will probably leave when he gets to meet his family.

“No, I wanna spend Christmas with you guys! It is the first Christmas away from home and I’m thrilled to spend it with you!” he looks at his sister-in-law with a wide smile on her lips. “And I am sure your family isn’t that bad.” He smiles at her, really thinking that her family isn’t that bad.

“You don’t know them, buddy.” Jack sighs quietly to Luke and pulls Amara closer to him, kissing her hair.

“So We have this little tradition in our family,” Jack says as you all stand by the table, waiting for the toast. He looks at Luke who is standing right next to him.

“Yeah we all say one word to describe what we are grateful for, so if you wouldn’t mind, doing it?” he cocks his head to the side measuring the people around the table.

The first one to speak is Adela, who throws her hair behind her shoulder, fluttering her lashes at him.

“No, of course, we wouldn’t,” she says in a flirty voice, causing Jack to send her a forced smile. He doesn’t notice the look Amara gives him and his sister as she watches her flirt with him.

“Yeah, I actually like your tradition.” Spencer smiles and Anniken nods in agreement.

“Okay, what do you say Berry?” he asks with a lovesick smile which drops when he sees her looking down on the table.

She quickly whips her head up, giving him a half smile and nodding her head in agreement.

“Okay, I’ll start,” Luke coughs trying to melt the tension between Jack and Amara. “Sister.” She smiles, winking at Amara who blushes at his words.

“Uhm, shop.” Amara’s mother says, earning a giggles from Adela who obviously know what is she talking about.

The room is then filled with words such as ‘love’ ‘family’ ‘Berkin’ and ‘toys’ before the turn is on Amara who looks at Luke and then at Jack finding the right word for what she wants to say.

“Devil’s,” she says, giving Luke and Jack a cheeky smile as she thinks of all the boys on the team, especially Jack, Luke, and Nico.

Luke blows her a kiss and wiggles her brows at her.

“Okay and now the cherry on the top.” Luke points at his brother, as Adela’s giggles fill the room.

“Strawberry.” He says, not listening to Adela's words as his eyes are locked on the pretty girl beside him. Amara raises his head, her eyes sparkling with love as she looks into Jack’s blue ones. She smiles at him and takes his hand in hers, squeezing it tenderly.

“Okay so everyone said what they wanted and now is a time for toast and dinner,” Luke says taking in hand his glass of white wine. Everyone follows as the toast for Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.

“Oh Jezz, Lu!” Jack suddenly whines, making Amara flinch, on her seat, because she didn’t expect it. “Sorry, baby.” He apologizes immediately, kissing the top of her hand. “Did you order the present for mom and dad?” he looks at his younger brother with wide eyes.

Luke stops in his tracks, reviewing the last week if he had time to order it or not. “Yeah, yeah, I did! I was on a call with Quinn when I booked it.”

“Thank God.” Jack sighs in relief, stuffing his mouth with mashed potatoes.

“So, Jack, I watched your games, you play amazing!” Adela says in a flirty tone, while her mom smiles at Jack as if she knows what is her daughter trying to do.

“Oh uhm, thank you,” He clears his throat, swallowing the food. “I am just doing my job as best I can just like the other guys on our team. Nothing special,” he shrugs, squirming in his seat uncomfortably. “Actually, Luke here is rocking!” he tries to draw the attention away from himself.

“Oh shut it, Jack.” Luke blushes slightly at his words.

“What! It’s true Lukey! You are rocking it!” Amara smiles at him, sending him a wink. Luke shrugs it off, putting more food on his plate.

“And Jacky, you are defenceman? Or wing? I have a mess in this hockey dictionary.” She giggles and flatters her lashes at him.

Amara rolls her eyes at her sister and tries to swallow the gulp in her throat as she tries to not be jealous, or let her thoughts and the voice in her head win, but it is hard as she watches her sister flirt with her boyfriend, and him, seemingly not noticing it or liking it.

She looks at the other end of the table, where she sees her brother already looking at her with his protective look like he’s about to say something, but she just shakes her head, not wanting to make a scene.

Spencer clenches his jaw and sends triggers through Adela's head.

“I am center, but Lukey here is defenseman.” Jack points at Luke, who is stuffing his mouth with the stuffing.

“Oh, nice,” She nods, with no interest in her voice. “So, what is your job as center?” she asks him again, pursing her lips and checking Jack out.

Just as she says it, Amara abruptly stands up, the chair almost falling on the ground. “Excuse me, I need to freshen up.” She says with her voice croaking in the process. Luke looks at his brother, shaking his head lightly. He noticed it too, but it seems like his brother is oblivious to the fact that Adela is flirting with him.

“Always had to be dramatic.” Her father says, shaking his head. Adela and her mother laugh, nodding their head.

Luke stands up and with an apologetic smile, he leaves the room. He knocks on the door to Amara’s and Jack’s room, opening it, only to see no one in there, so he knocks on the door to the bathroom.

“It’s me, Ara, can you please open the door?”

“I am fine, Lu, go eat, I’ll come in a minute.” She says calmly, but Luke can say, she’s crying.

“Amara!” he sighs in a warning tone. He knows it came out a bit too harsh, but he also knows how to handle her in these situations.

A few seconds later he hears the click of the lock and shuffling in there. He opens the door and immediately pulls Amara in a hug. “Hey, don’t cry!” he whispers in her ear when he hears her sniffing. “You know Jack loves you,” he rubs her back, trying to calm her down. Amara nods in agreement, and sniffs, pulling away from him slightly. “He couldn’t be a minute without you and you know that, sis.”

“But he…she is prettier, and…and nothing like me,” she sniffles, new tears forming in her eyes. “She’s slimmer, she’s prettier, and just has everything I don’t.”

“Hey! Don’t ever talk like this about yourself! You are gorgeous and I bet everything that Jack thinks you are the most gorgeous woman in this whole world, so don’t!” he says harshly, but he means it in a good and Amara knows it.

“I am sorry.” She sighs, wiping under her eyes.

“Come on, sis! Let's get you cleaned! You look like a clown.” He chuckles teasingly, earning giggles from her. “And I thought something was wrong with you being nice to me.” She smacks his chest but moves to the mirror to freshen herself up.

“And I thought there was something wrong with you being all nice to me.” She smacks his chest but moves to the mirror to freshen herself up.

“Is everything okay?” Jack whispers in her ear as she sits down on her seat by the table.

She nods her head, smiling at him a kissing his cheek. “Yeah, everything is fine. Sorry.”

“We’ll talk about this later hm, pretty girl?” his smiles wide and his hand reaches to her face to tug the strand of her hair behind her ear.

— — — — — — — —

“Berry,” Jack says in surprise as he opens his present. “No baby!” he sighs, looking at his girlfriend in awe.

“What? You’ve talking about it for the past few months,” she shrugs, smiling at him teasingly.

“Yeah, but…” he starts but she shushes him.

“No buts, J. You wanted this, so I bought it. Thank you is enough.” She giggles, wiggling her brows at him.

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” he whispers between the kisses he gives her. “I love you.” He then pulls away looking down at the new game for their ps5.

“You are welcome.” She smiles, moving his hair from his forehead.

“Don’t want to interrupt this… whatever is happening here,” Adela says and throws her hand in the air. “But I have something for you Jack.” She smiles flirty and hands him her preciously wrapped gift. Amara scoots away, sighing slightly.

“Oh, uhm… Thanks, but I have nothing for you.” Jack takes the gift from her with an awkward smile.

“Oh, that's okay.” She waves it off and sits in the space Amara made when she moved away.

Spencer is watching this whole scene that’s happening in front of his eyes.

His eyes are switching between his two sisters as one is sitting with tears forming in her eyes as she watches the other one flirting with her boyfriend.

Jack opens the present, wincing when he sees, a bracelet with A and J initials on it.

“Isn’t it cute! Now we match!” she shows him his wrist where is the same bracelet.

“Enough!” Amara yells, making everyone look at her with wide eyes. They never heard her yell. Ever. Adela rolls her eyes at her sister's dramaticism and turns back at Jack. “Oh, for fucks sake Adela!” she shouts again, this time walking to her a gripping her arm to move her away from her boyfriend.

“What now, drama queen?” she says annoyed, folding her arms across his chest.

“What now? WHAT NOW!” Amara repeats with sarcasm leaking from it. “I’ll tell you what! I am sick of you, flirting with my boyfriend in front of me!” she spits in her face, tears forming in her eyes. “I know I was never good for you,” this time she looks at her parents. “Since the moment, when doctors said to you that I have ADHD, you started treating me like trash. I got it okay! You wanted a perfect child but guess what! I AM NOT!” her voice cracks as she speaks, causing Jack to wince and stand up, but Amara looks at him and shakes her head. “And you! You are so fed up with your beauty, that you can’t act like normal sister. I know I am nothing like you! I am not slim or don’t have the perfect nails and other things, and it really, really hurts when you keep showing it to me every time you visit,” now Amara is crying, her mascara sliding down her cheeks, as she tries to breathe normally. “Now excuse me.” She whispers and runs inside their bedroom. Everyone sits in the living room in silence, before Adela breaks it.

“So dramatic. I don’t underst—”

“Shut up! Adela!” This time, it is Jack who yells. The vein on his forehead pops out and tears form in his eyes.

“I am so fed up with you! You are the most annoying person I have ever met,” he spits in her face turning to her parents, who are watching him with wide eyes, while Spencer watches him with a proud smile. “And you!” he points at them with venom in his voice. “You don’t deserve her as a daughter. I want the three of you out of my apartment right now! Pack your shits and leave. Luke, kick them out if they are not packed within half an hour,” he says to his brother in a calmer voice and turns to Spencer and his family with an apologetic look. “You are always welcome here, you can stay here and…” Spencer interrupts him with a smile as he pulls him in a hug.

“Thank you, but we will leave too. Go check up on your girl. I am sure she needs you right now.” He pats his back, running to his bedroom.

He knocks on the door and says, “Berry? Can I come in? Please?” he hears, only shuffling coming from the room, so he decides to open the door, and to his surprise, they are open.

His heart drops when he sees his girlfriend’s body shaking from crying on their bed. He closes the door and strolls over to her, immediately pulling her to his lap.

“I am here! Don’t cry please!” he whispers in her ear, squeezing her to him even more. “It breaks my heart seeing you crying.” His voice croaks and tears stream down his face.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t—” she hiccups and sniffles, pulling her face away from Jack’s. “I didn’t want to make a scene.” She swallows hard but relaxes when she feels his hands on her face, wiping the tears away.

“No baby. You had all right to do it. And I am so fucking sorry. I shouldn’t have talked to her at all. I knew she was flirty, but I didn’t want them to make them feel uncomfortable in here,” He whispers, tears sliding down his cheeks. “But maybe that is exactly what I should do. And I am so sorry it made you feel like this! I love you so much! I love everything about you baby!” he says frantically, looking into her eyes, to make sure, she understands what he’s saying.

Amara smiles at him, her hands coming to his cheeks, and this time it is her job to wipe the tears on his cheeks. “I know and I am sorry that I ever doubt that.” She whispers resting her forehead on his.

“It’s okay. I guess I must do a better job in showing you.” He smirks through his tears and slightly tickles her, earning a shriek from her.

Amara lets out a loud sigh when he stops and looks into his blue eyes. “I think I need to say sorry to Spencer and his family. I ruined their Christm—”

“No, you don’t, they understand. And maybe we should stay here for the next twenty minutes. I kinda kicked your family out of here.” He says, chuckling nervously because he doesn’t know how she will react.

“Good,” Amara nods and presses her lips to his in a tender kiss. “Because I would do that if you don’t.” she giggles. Jack just looks at his girl, sitting on his lap and giggling.

[softmiso]

my sweet honey bee | spencer reid x reader

summary: reader has a special christmas present for spencer.

tags: christmas fluff, fem!reader, established relationship, pregnancy

word count: ~600

a/n: title from 'all i want is you' featured in juno (2007) :)

cross-posted on ao3

It was a snowy morning. You and Spencer were sat by the fireplace, the warm glow of the fire contrasting with the white light streaming in through the windows.

Curled up on the couch together, you listened to one of your shared playlists. Every now and then, one of you would speak up to voice a passing thought, but you were otherwise silent.

You had just finished opening presents, a combinations of ones that you had bought or made for one another and some from friends and family.

While you tried to bask in the comfort of your fifth Christmas shared with one another, you were silently mulling over how you would give Spencer his final present. You were surprised he couldn’t hear the thoughts racing through your head from where it lay on his shoulder.

Before you could think too much more, Spencer gently patted your thigh. You lifted your head, eyebrows raising as you looked at him.

“I was thinking of making some apple cider,” he said. “Would you like some?”

You nodded. “Yeah, that’d be great.”

While Spencer busied himself in the kitchen, you paced around the living room. This was the perfect time to get the present from its hiding spot, but your nerves had you hesitating.

It’ll be fine, you told yourself. Just go get it.

And so, you walked quietly to your shared bedroom, fetching the small rectangular box from one of your designated drawers. You’d hidden it under a pile of clothing, knowing Spencer had no reason to look there.

By the time you got back to the living room, he was sat on the couch, ciders placed on the coffee table. Alerted of your presence by the soft sound of your footsteps, Spencer watched as you made your way in front of him. You held the box strategically behind your back, making sure that he didn’t get a peek of it.

He looked up at you inquisitively. “What’s up, honey?”

“Um,” you tried to gather your thoughts, “I might have one last present for you.”

“Really?” he asked. “You didn’t have to!”

“Trust me, I think you’ll like it.” A shy smile crossed your face.

You gave him the box, and he turned it over in his hands before unwrapping it carefully. Meanwhile, you decided to sit on the couch, legs feeling a bit wobbly with nerves and excitement.

Time seemed to slow as he finally opened the box and took out the small stick that you had placed inside.

His brows furrowed. That is, until he turned the stick over. His eyes widened as he read what was written on the tiny screen: pregnant.

He looked up at you with those eyes that had enchanted you all those years ago. “You’re...?”

“Yeah,” you said breathily.

His gaze flickered between your face and the test. At last, his now glistening eyes landed on you.

“Oh my god,” he said as he took you into his arms.

The embrace was oh, so welcome. You didn’t realize you had shed a few tears until he pulled back, wiping them away with his free hand.

For once, Spencer was at a loss for words. Instead, he kissed you slow and gentle, silently communicating all his feelings.

When he pulled away, his hand migrated to your side, thumb stroking your belly over your sweater.

“We’re gonna have a baby,” he said quietly.

“We’re gonna have a baby,” you echoed back.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

[adoresia]

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ CHAPTER 8 : in the quiet between us

Sia here ! : This is so cute guys I made this too cute ngl. Also I completely forgot to add the top banner with the blue bow idk what happened im gonna go back and add em’. Also scheduled this for 00:52 instead cause I think they won’t post cause I keep posting them at 11pm so if I wake up and these aren’t posted I’m gonna crash out 😤😤😤😤

Word count : 1.9k

Taglist : @fushiguruuzzzz @mystic-megumi @aldebrana @anotherwriternamedclara @tlissablr @2dmenfr @academiq @vmpky @lizbix @blubearxy @ashlvsss @madison777x @rreveurdoll @q2uq2u @temblebee @moonchhu @monster-effer

series masterlist / jjk m.list

previous / next

The day of the Christmas party dawned cold and clear, the morning sun casting a pale glow over the world dusted in snow. You were sitting at your desk, phone tucked between your ear and shoulder, while you pulled on a sweater and tried to gather your things. Yuji’s voice buzzed cheerfully in your ear, cutting through the morning stillness.

“Don’t forget the cupcakes,” he reminded, his tone light but insistent. “I worked hard on those, you know.”

“You mean I worked hard on those,” you corrected with a small laugh. “You just made a mess.”

“Hey, i was moral support.” Yuji protested, his voice playfully indignant.

“Right, because smearing flour all over the counter like a 5 year old is so supportive,” you teased, the warmth in your voice betraying your fondness for the memory.

Yuji chuckled, the sound soft and warm, like a hug wrapped in laughter. “Whatever, just don’t forget them, alright? And, uh… see you soon.”

“Yeah,” you said, the word sticking in your throat for a second before you shook off the sudden wave of nervousness. “See you soon.”

As the call ended, you set the phone down and took a moment to steady yourself. The conversation from last night lingered in your mind, its weight pressing softly against your chest. You thought of how Yuji had listened to you, his unwavering gaze, and the sincerity in his words. Trust didn’t come easily to you, but Yuji… felt different. The thought followed you as you packed up the cupcakes and made your way through the icy streets to Yuji’s dorm. The snow crunched beneath your boots, the cold air sharp against your cheeks, but your thoughts were warmer than they’d been in a long time. You felt something stirring deep within you, a fragile bloom of hope that you weren’t sure how to nurture.

When you arrived, the dorm was a riot of sound and color. Music pulsed softly from a speaker in the corner, and the glow of string lights cast a cozy golden hue over the room. Yuji greeted you at the door, his smile brighter than the lights around him.

“You’re here!” he exclaimed, taking the cupcakes from your hands like they were the crown jewels. “You took so long I thought you got lost in the snow.”

You rolled your eyes, but the corners of your mouth twitched upward. “I’m not like you, believe it or not.”

“That was just a comedic act, I don’t actually trip.,” Yuji said, winking as he carried the cupcakes to the kitchen.

Despite the bustling energy of the room, you found yourself naturally gravitating toward Yuji. He moved through the crowd with an easy charm, laughing with friends and making everyone feel included. It was hard not to be drawn to his warmth, even as you made an effort to chat with Nobara and Maki.

The three of you fell into a conversation about holiday traditions, your laughter mingling with the music as you shared stories. Nobara’s animated gestures and Maki’s dry humor kept you entertained, but your gaze kept drifting toward Yuji.

At some point, you found yourself sitting beside Yuta on the couch, the chatter of the room fading slightly as the two of you settled into a quieter conversation.

“You’ve been sticking close to Yuji tonight,” Yuta remarked, his tone casual but knowing.

You hesitated, your fingers toying with the hem of your sweater. “Yeah, I guess I have.”

“Is there something going on between you two?” he asked gently, his eyes kind but curious.

You sighed, the weight of the question pressing against your chest. “We talked last night,” you admitted. “I told him about… why it’s so hard for me to trust people. And he was amazing about it, but now I don’t know how I feel. Or how he feels.”

Yuta nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Yuji’s a good person. He really cares about you, I don’t think you have to worry about that. But it’s okay not to have everything figured out right away.”

“Thanks, Yuta,” you said softly, appreciating his quiet reassurance. “I think I need some air.”

He didn’t stop you, only offering a supportive smile as you slipped out of the room. The cold night air greeted you like an old friend as you made your way to the rooftop. The world was quiet up here, the snow blanketing the city in a hushed stillness. You sat down on the edge, your breath puffing out in small clouds as you tried to sort through the storm of emotions swirling inside you.

Back at the party, Yuji felt the shift in the air almost instantly. The absence of your laughter, your presence—it hit him like a missing note in a song, a space that should have been filled. His gaze swept the room, darting from group to group, searching for you amidst the holiday chaos.

“Hey, Nobara,” he interrupted, stepping into her conversation with Maki. “Have you seen Y/N?”

Nobara tilted her head, her brow furrowing. “Not recently. I thought they were with Yuta a while ago.”

Without wasting a second, Yuji crossed the room to Yuta, his steps quick and purposeful. “Yuta, where did Y/N go?” he asked, urgency creeping into his voice.

Yuta looked up, his expression calm but concerned. “They said they needed some air.”

Yuji paused for a moment, processing the words, before nodding. The warmth and energy of the party seemed distant now, replaced by the cold unease settling in his chest. He didn’t need to ask anything else—he just knew.

The hallway was quiet as he stepped out, the soft hum of the party fading behind him. The chill of the winter air wrapped around him like an omen, matching the knot tightening in his chest. He searched instinctively, each step filled with purpose, the sound of his shoes against the floor echoing in the stillness.

It didn’t take him long to find you. The rooftop door creaked slightly as he pushed it open, and there you were perched on the ledge, curled in on yourself like a small figure carved from ice. Snowflakes swirled gently around you, catching in your hair, while the glow of the city lights painted a faint halo over you.

Yuji’s breath hung in the air as he approached, his footsteps crunching softly against the snow. For a moment, he hesitated, struck by the quiet vulnerability of the scene—the way the world seemed to pause around you, holding its breath.

The rooftop was a quiet, frozen haven, the snow falling softly like whispers between the sky and the earth. You sat with your knees pulled to your chest, the cold biting at your skin but dull in comparison to the storm brewing inside you.

When Yuji called your name, it cut through the silence, his voice steady but layered with worry. You didn’t turn to face him right away, the weight of everything pressing too heavily on your chest. The crunch of his footsteps grew closer, hesitant but deliberate, until he stopped a few feet away.

“Hey,” he murmured gently, as though afraid to break whatever fragile thread was holding you together.

“Hey, you. Sorry, I didn’t mean to leave like that,” you said quietly, your voice barely audible over the winter breeze. “I just… I needed some air.”

Yuji crouched beside you, unwinding his scarf with clumsy fingers. The fabric brushed against your shoulders as he draped it over you, his touch lingering for a moment longer than necessary. The warmth of the scarf seeped into your skin, but it was the gesture itself that made your heart ache.

“You don’t have to explain,” he said, though his tone betrayed his concern. “But… you scared me. I thought—” He stopped himself, swallowing hard, his gaze darting to the snow-covered ground.

You glanced at him, noting the way his usual confidence seemed to falter. His shoulders were tense, his hands fidgeting against his thighs. Yuji, always so open and easygoing, now looked as though he didn’t know where to place himself.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, your voice trembling. “For pushing you away, again. I said I’d stop doing that. I just… I’ve been thinking a lot about this, you, us. I’m Scared of ruining this—whatever this is between us.”

His head snapped up at your words, his wide eyes locking with yours for a brief moment before he looked away, his cheeks flushed. The nervous energy between you was palpable, like the charged air before a thunderstorm.

“This?” he repeated, his voice quieter, almost unsure. “What do you mean, this?”

You hesitated, wrapping the scarf tighter around yourself as if it could shield you from the vulnerability threatening to spill out. “Us. You. The way you make me feel safe, even when I don’t deserve it. I’m scared of losing that. Scared of messing it all up.”

Yuji’s hand twitched at his side, like he wanted to reach for you but wasn’t sure if he should. “You don’t have to be scared,” he said, his voice soft but strained, as though he was trying to hold something back. “I mean… I get it. I do. But you don’t have to handle everything alone anymore.”

You turned to face him fully now, your heart pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it. “You try so hard for me Yuji, why?”

His eyes flickered up to meet yours before darting away again, his nervousness plain as day. “I don’t know,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck, his breath fogging up in the cold air. “I just… I can’t help it. When it comes to you, I—” He broke off, shaking his head like he was frustrated with himself.

“When it comes to me, what?” you pressed, your voice barely above a whisper.

Yuji finally looked at you, his warm brown eyes filled with a mix of determination and vulnerability. “I don’t know how to explain it,” he said, his voice cracking slightly. “You’re just… important to me. More than I thought anyone could be. And I don’t know what to do with that.”

The confession hung in the air between you, heavy and electric. His nervousness was mirrored in the way your hands gripped the edge of the scarf, your knuckles white from the tension.

“What are we, Yuji?” you asked, your voice trembling. “I don’t even know anymore.”

He hesitated, his lips parting and closing again as he searched for the right words. “I don’t know either,” he finally said, his cheeks tinged pink. “But I think… you’re mean more than just a friend to me. A lot more.”

The words hit you like a warm wave, washing away the cold and fear you’d been holding onto. Your breath hitched, your chest tightening—not from anxiety, but from the unfamiliar feeling of hope blooming inside you.

“You mean that?” you asked, your voice barely audible.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice steadier now, though his hands still fidgeted. “I don’t know if I’m saying it right, but… I mean it.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The snow continued to fall around you, the world seeming to hold its breath. Then, slowly, you leaned your head against his shoulder, the tension in your body easing.

“I’d rather stay up here with you for a while,” you murmured, your voice soft.

Yuji exhaled, his breath misting in the cold air. “Yeah,” he said quietly, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Me too.”

His arm came up, hesitating for just a second before resting gently around your shoulders. You closed your eyes, letting the warmth of his presence melt away the lingering chill. For the first time in what felt like forever, you weren’t scared. You weren’t alone. And as Yuji sat beside you, his own nervousness giving way to quiet contentment, it felt like the start of something new—something worth figuring out, together.

[violenteconomics]

(decided to split the reactions up into parts.)

for riddle rosehearts, it starts like this:

it’s a little strange how studious deuce has been lately. not that deuce doesn’t normally put his all into his studies, but now, whenever deuce isn’t at school or completing his dorm chores, he’s locked up in his room, nose deep in a textbook with pages upon pages of class notes scattered all around him. it’s gotten to the point where riddle regularly has to send deuce’s roommates to fetch food for him so he doesn’t starve himself.

and instead of the usual focus and determination riddle is so used to seeing on him, deuce looks more… stressed than anything else. like studying is some kind of obligation rather than something he actually wants to do. and from someone who has always been so earnest in his attempts, riddle won’t deny that it’s a little… sad. jarring. scary, even.

cater blames it on late-semester burnout. trey points out that the freshmen have been getting heavier workloads from the teachers lately. they both tell him that it’s best to just wait for deuce to get over this slump of his. he’d deuce spade after all, and no matter how hard life knocks him down, he always gets back up.

riddle’s not convinced.

(he, more than anybody, knows what a caged child looks like. and he, more than anybody, knows how impossible that cage is to break out of.)

but riddle doesn’t decide to take any direct action until he spots deuce sitting in the lounge, reading through an alchemy book.

deciding to finally bring some closure to this gnawing, familiar feeling in his chest, riddle walks up to deuce and asks what he wished he would’ve asked a lot more when he had the chance: “are you alright?”

deuce looks up at him, startled, like he hadn’t even noticed that riddle was in the room, despite the loud clicks of riddle’s housewarden heels against the tile floor.

“deuce, are you alright?” he asks again.

deuce stares at him like a deer caught in headlights, pupils dilated, eyebrows slanted, and hands clutching his book so hard the pages crinkle. he looks pained, like he desperately wants to say something, but is trying to keep it back with all of his might.

“housewarden rosehearts, i—”

he sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth.

closes his eyes.

opens them back up again after a moment.

and smiles.

“everything’s fine, housewarden.” he says, in a voice that’s so, so oversweet. “don’t worry about me.”

(somewhere, in the back of riddle’s mind, he hears cater’s voice saying: “that’s soooooo #filtered!���)

"are you... sure?" riddle asks, trying not to sound as terrified as he feels.

"yeah." deuce says without missing a beat. "i'm sure."

riddle purses his lips and sits next to him. hesitantly, he puts a hand on deuce's shoulder. "you know you can tell me anything... right?"

"yeah." he repeats. "i know."

"so why does it feel like you're not telling me the truth?"

"i am."

"okay, now that was just pathetic."

deuce goes silent, staring down at his book.

then, he says, "housewarden, do you think i'm a good heartslabyul student?"

riddle rears back in surprise. "um... what?"

"do you think i'm good at listening to orders and stuff?" he elaborates, fiddling with the corner of the page.

riddle blinks. "i... would say so. you're much better than ace, anyway."

"that's all i ever wanted to be." he replies. "a good student."

then, deuce cracks a bit, a coating of pain being slathered over his features.

"so why does it hurt so much?" he asks, voice cracking.

riddle leans forward, trying to look at deuce's expression, while a haunted one crosses his own as deuce's words poke a tender part of his chest. "deuce...?"

"i'm sorry." he mumbles. "i shouldn't have said that. just— forget i said anything."

riddle shakes his head in disbelief. "deuce, i can't just let that go—!"

"please." deuce pleads, raising his hand up to wipe away at tears that aren't there. "i don't want to cause any problems. i've done enough of that. things are going well, i don't want to rock the boat. i just— just forget about it, okay?"

and there's something in deuce's expression — something that reminds riddle of when he was younger, constantly staring at his reflection in his bedroom window because that was the only company he had — that makes riddle go silent.

I am in dire need of more of that AU that The First years get The upperclassmen toxic traits,i realy want more of It,like;

A way to include octavinelle and scarabia,maybe like,3 First years(Ace,deuce,Jack) get some of azul's toxic traits,other Three(epel,ortho and sebek) get Jamil toxic traits and yuu get both

Second thing

More reactings please,i NEED The staff,ALL The dorms and even the relatives seeing The First years developing those toxic traits,the overblots+Trey and cater for deuce getting their toxic traits right back at their face i beg you🙏🙏

anything 4 u, baby.

(but for real, though, this is an AMAZING idea, love you so much for tilling the ground for my brainwormies, mwah mwah 😘)

(also, this might get REALLY long, so hang tight!)

it was just a seed at first — a tiny idea that stuck around despite the first-years not even realizing it was there. but as the poison from their actual housewardens starts to develop into something truly deadly, so does that seed. it shows up later... but it makes itself known nevertheless.

ace, deuce, and jack have all worked for azul at the mostro lounge at one point, and though it was a very brief moment in time, it was just long enough to worm its way into their heads.

it starts with ace trappola, who's already pretty slippery with his words. but working at the mostro lounge, taking subconscious note of all the underhanded deals azul is making, he starts to pick up new... skills, let's say.

it starts small, with ace starting to give out certain favors to his fellow freshmen to earn some money. if you give him ten thaumarks, he'll do one of your everyday chores for you — dusting your room, cleaning your bathroom, making dinner, what have you. if you give him fifteen thaumarks, he'll do your homework if you don't feel like doing it, or take class notes for you if you don't feel like showing up. if you give him forty, he'll help you with something less-than-moral and definitely against the rules (he did it once back at the atlantica memorial museum — he can do it again).

there's an obvious power imbalance in all of these scenarios, but ace effortlessly words in a way that makes it seem like it's a win-win situation, when in reality, it's more like a zero-sum game.

it gets to the point where ace builds a black-market sort of reputation, and all of the freshmen know that if you need something done, ace is the person to go to.

...but then, something shifts.

at some point, ace starts a black-mailing campaign for the people who paid for the forty-thaumark favor. if you don't want your secret — one that might get you expelled, suspended, or worse — getting out, then you can pay for ace's silence with a favor or more money.

the worst part is: there's no way out. if you try attacking ace, it'll seem like you assaulted him for no reason, since if you try to explain he was blackmailing you, you'll have to tell them what he was blackmailing you with, which you obviously can't do — or else what was even the point? the same rule applies if you try tattling on him to one of the teachers or the housewardens or anybody else. and ace is a better liar than most people will ever be in their lifetime, so it's a losing battle even if you do manage to get someone to take your side.

so if you want to cross the bridge, my sweet, you've got to pay the toll.

(it's not even about the money anymore, really. riddle's thirst for control and azul's desire for recognition have clashed inside of ace in the most violent way, and now, it's all about the power it gives him over other people. and after how powerless he's felt this entire school year, being thrown left and right by overblot after overblot with no say at all, this is a power trip he never wants to come back down from.)

but ace realizes he's making quite a few enemies with his little money-making strategy, and he needs someone to help him just in case someone does come up with a plan to wipe him out. i mean, just look at azul — even with all of the loopholes and leverages in the world, even he was taken down eventually without outside help. if he wants this to last as long as possible, he needs... incentive for people to listen to him.

his own jade and floyd.

his own red-and-black collar.

using his riddle rosehearts-born dominance, and taking advantage of deuce's trey-and-cater-born passiveness, ace convinces deuce spade — one of the strongest people he knows — to help him in his economic ventures.

and deuce, seeing this as a way for ace to vent some frustration and unwilling to be on the other end of ace's ire, hesitantly agrees.

he doesn't piece together that ace is acting suspiciously like azul, but he still recognizes his own role in this whole scheme. ace is running a business, right? and deuce has only ever worked in one business before. he remembers what jade and floyd were like back when he worked under them, and so he uses that experience to inform his new position.

deuce becomes known as ace's right-hand man. he'll hunt you down if you don't pay, and he's not afraid to use force to "compel" you to. there have been stories about cat beastmen getting thrown up into trees and being left there for hours. about students getting forks "accidentally" thrown at them in the cafeteria with such precision, it doesn't really feel like an accident. about a student with a spade on his face who can throw back any attack sent his way with just as much force.

and there's nothing you can do about it, because he's in service to someone who has made himself pretty powerful. ace's silver-tongue gets deuce out of any and all trouble he inevitably finds himself in — and is ace is so brutally honest, why wouldn't people believe him? so even if you try to do something to deuce, ace has his back no matter what — and he'll win almost every time.

you mess with deuce, you mess with ace, which is already bad enough. but if you fuck around with ace, you better be prepared to find out with deuce.

they're a pair — that's always been true. but never before has that fact been so threatening.

jack howl comes next. we all know how much jack despises octavinelle's business model. but, begrudgingly, he will admit there are a lot of things he can learn from octavinelle. and more knowledge is never bad. as long as he doesn't actually use it, it should be fine.

(jack is more dangerous than ace and deuce, in a way — his toxicity is insidious in a way it just couldn't ever be with them.)

with excellent hearing, eyesight, and memory, he silently keeps note of every bribe he hears being taken. every lie he knows is being told. every mistake that gets swept under the rug. it's not long before he starts actively looking for it. it's not long before jack's uncovered dirt on almost every freshmen in school. it reminds him a bit of his time working at the mostro lounge. but instead of memorizing orders from customers, he's memorizing all their dirty secrets.

it's to protect himself, jack reasons. after all, it was only his input that put a stop to leona and ruggie's plans back during the spelldrive exhibition. he's just... preparing for another disastrous event, that's all. it's just precaution. insurance.

if it's not, then he'll have to accept that leona's overblot bothered him more than he thought. that he was weak enough to let it.

(and jack can't face that yet.)

and if, once in a while, ace comes to him looking for a little bit of information, then well, that's just lending a friend some advice. nothing wrong with that.

epel, ortho, and sebek don't have any direct ties to jamil, but they are certainly... impressionable, aren't they?

sebek zigvolt is a bit dense, certainly, but even he can see how well jamil takes care of his master. and with a master that's as ditzy and forgetful and all-over-the-place as kalim, that can't be easy. even if they are merely humans, and their experiences can't even begin to compare when it comes to serving a fae prince, sebek reckons that he can learn a thing or two by observing them. so that's exactly what he does.

one day, when kalim spills food on the floor in a hilariously ridiculous move, sebek notices something few others ever would. jamil gives the tiniest twitch of annoyance — the same way silver, in all his stoicism, often does when sebek gets too loud — but then he's back to being perfectly dutiful and polite and says "i'll go get a napkin."

it's... admirable, honestly. sebek doesn't put it into practice right away, but it stays in his mind long after he first sees it.

and then, after malleus's overblot, sebek's emotions feel like they're on fire. after being stuck in a world where it took just the tiniest crack to shatter a perfect illusion, he's wary of nearly everything that disrupts his day. now every single slight against him, no matter how unintentional it may be, feels like a personal attack on his very life. but sebek can't show these ugly emotions so outwardly — that would be dishonorable behavior that could damage malleus's reputation. instead, he resorts to subtle methods that can't be easily traced back to him like putting in frogs in schoolbags and setting brooms on fire or replacing shampoo bottles with tar.

but his repressed feelings of anger start to build to the point where he's now feeling unprecedented resentment towards... well, almost everybody.

when sebek has very first negative thought about malleus in history class — "reckless bastard" — he instantly hates himself for it and throws up then and there because how dare he.

he tries to shut them out, but the more he does, the more these intrusive thoughts start to bombard him with their uncharacteristic cynicism.

he looks at lilia from across the breakfast table, and his first thought is: heartless liar.

he spots leona lying in the botanical garden and he thinks: brainless cretin.

he even sees jamil, walking through the halls, and his mind screams: manipulative bitch.

but sebek shoves it all down because he's in no position to say that. it gets to the point where he's walking around as a silent, unfeeling husk, because to be anything else would be like inviting his inner demons to visit him on the outside. he pushes his emotions down as far as they'll go, and that's just going to have to be enough to get him through the day.

ortho shroud begins to follow a similar principle. his idia-inspired pessimism has led ortho to see others as less like people and more like characters. it's easier to think of every school day as a dungeon in an rpg. it's easier to convince himself that the other students are taunting him because they're programmed to be that way than face the reality that they just don't like him.

but the problem with seeing life as a video game is that you start seeing others as just ways to complete your objectives. like npcs or maps.

and when it comes to using people, jamil viper is king. or, for ortho's purposes, the ultimate survival guide.

ortho shapes himself into a model night raven college student — kind, charming, and sweet for the teachers, but just mischievous and rude enough to still fit in with the students.

he goes to housewarden meetings with idia to "gain leadership experience", taking notes and hearing out of every single little idea he can get his hands on (these are the people who have not just survived, but thrived. they must be doing something right). one time, riddle even pats his head and praises him for his proactiveness.

his classmates adore him for always been willing to help and being so calm about even the worst outcomes.

ortho makes himself as available as possible to the rest of ignihyde, brushing off homework or studying to help them with whatever they need — fixing game consoles, wiring in controllers, checking the internet connection, et cetera.

eventually, everyone believes in him almost as fiercely as scarabia believed in jamil, once upon a time.

ortho doesn't like telling all of these lies, but it's necessary to protect himself. it's like grinding to earn coins until you have enough money to buy that special armor in the shopkeeper's store.

...or maybe it's more like those cheesy dress-up flash games ortho used to play all the time — fleshing out the perfect outfit and hairstyle and makeup that'll earn you the most points.

if people feel like they need him, he'll be able to breeze through school without any more problems. he's put the whole system on easy mode! it feels a bit like cheating, almost.

it is like a game, isn't it? it's fun.

(at some point, ortho forgets how to stop.)

as for epel... well, he knows that his sudden snappish behavior towards the other pomefiore students won't go unnoticed for too long. but this is one of his only ways of venting, so he needs it to go under the radar long enough for him to... to squeeze out all of this sudden venom that's built up in him.

epel's not oblivious. he knows how sebek and ortho have changed over the weeks, and he knows why. but epel can't pull off "repressed" like sebek, and neither can he suddenly turn into the best person ever like ortho. but they do have the right idea about taking inspiration from jamil, so epel can fall back on what there is left: gaslighting.

every time kalim blacked out, jamil blamed it on him being sick. every time someone thought kalim was being awfully uncharacteristic, jamil called it a "mood swing". every time someone asked jamil about why kalim was acting so weird, jamil claimed ignorance.

at least, that's what yuu tells epel.

and it's perfect.

so now, every time someone confronts epel about his overly critical behavior, he lies and says he's doing it for their own good. you need pressure to make a diamond, after all. and besides — vil won't settle for anything less than absolutely perfect.

("i'm just trying to catch your mistakes before he does. and i think you and i can both agree that i'm a lot nicer than he is about it.")

every time vil confronts epel about all of the complaints he's been hearing from the other students about how epel's been tearing down their ideas for outfits and hairstyles with no mercy, and disregarding all of their achievements as "not good enough" to be proud over, epel dons a confused face.

("vil, between studying for tests and the crazy physical regiment you have me do, i barely have time for myself. you honestly think i have the energy to criticize other people?")

epel even starts turning people against each other so they won't focus on him. epel subtly threatens to take away the upperclassmen's position in the hierarchy, which sets up the other underclassmen as a threat, and epel grouses to the underclassmen that the upperclassmen look down on them for not living up to pomefiore standards, under the guise of regular teenage bitching.

but all of this, combined with their self-entitlement, leads to a mini-war in pomefiore. but since this is, well, pomefiore, where being perfect and poised is the standard, the others make sure never make it obvious in front of vil or rook.

epel plays everybody like a fiddle, and ensures that none of it can be traced back to him. it's a good way to get out his frustration. and hey — it seems like everybody's upped their game along the way. vil seems pretty happy that everybody's improving in their efforts so greatly, practically overnight!

epel wakes up with a feeling of accomplishment everyday. for once, it seems he did something right.

now if only rook could stop looking so somber...

then we come to yuu, whose inner darkness has been left to fester all year. if people think they can treat them like a ragdoll, it's only fair they do the same.

there's a lot yuu doesn't have, but one thing they're really lacking is a bit of respect. that's what it means to be magicless in an arcane academy. you're at the bottom of the food chain.

and look at what a bit of self-interest can do for you! yuu studies in the library until late into the night, burning the metaphorical candle at both ends, learning everything they can about magic until they're more well-versed in it than most students in the school. yuu starts making potions that aren't nearly as good as azul's, but they're cheap and work well enough. they start making study guides for others with their new-found knowledge, even if they do bristle with the fact that a damned study guide is what caught them in azul's tentacles in the first place. they start learning anything and everything, clinging to whatever scraps of knowledge they can write down.

with this, they successfully make their case for why they should join ace and deuce's business. eventually, they're just as feared as they are among the other first-years.

but that's not enough for yuu. the power of fear is nice, but the power of controlling other people would be much more cathartic.

so that's what they do. while ace is more focused on monetary gain, yuu uses their mountains of blackmail to convince others to do whatever they want.

if crowley throws another ridiculous task at them, yuu simply hoists it off to somebody else to do. if ramshackle dorm needs a few repairs, it's only a matter of contacting a few people before a whole construction crew paid off by somebody else comes knocking at their door. and they'll do it, if they don't want to get kicked out of the school or have their reputation ruined.

but somehow, even with all of this, yuu sets themself up as the nicest out of their little trio. they're willing to let payments slide from time to time. they listen to their clients' problems. they take constructive criticism and always seem to improve in their potions and study guides based on feedback. and if you do do yuu a favor, they'll give you certain favors right back.

so even when yuu is a covetous, greedy, all-consuming shark, the students still think they're so very, very nice. because compared to ace and deuce, what else is there to think?

but this can only go on for so long. and yuu knows that.

one day, they get called to the headmage's office. yuu is already going through their contact list — a list that's quadrupled ever since they joined forces with ace and deuce — to see who'd be willing to do them a teensy little favor for them, but when they step through the door, they pause.

inside the office are all the housewardens, their vices, the teachers, and everybody else yuu has grown to know over the past year.

yuu narrows their eyes as riddle steps forward.

"yuu," riddle starts sternly, "from one housewarden to another, i believe we need to talk."

^

(i will address everyone's reactions in a reblog, because this is honestly getting really, really long, lol. but don't worry, the reactions are coming! 🥺)

(but i should mention that there is already a good reblog of the original post by @thenumberhuntress which addresses the upperclassmen's reactions that you can find here. go read it. it's peak.)

(once again, thank you for the great ask! this was fun to make!)

[ghostmoon1]

Ngl fair,,, Roach is probably harder to write because he doesn't have a 'canon' personality,,,

If you're feeling up for it,, can I ask for some Roach x Selective Mute!Reader headcannons,?

Mb smthng with Reader only talking to people they trust,? Dw if you wanna scrap the selective part, I appreciate you trying sm ^-^

Hello again Anon!!

I def agree with you there, but then again it somewhat makes it more fun! Being able to write him as how I see him more.

And thank you so much for the request, this is actually my first ever request and I couldn't tell you how excited I was reading this :D So, here we are! I tried, I hope this is at least somewhat what you were looking for!

Lmk if you were looking for something different, I haven't written Roach nor Selective Mute!Reader before ashbdjnf

Roach x Selective Mute!Reader

To you, Roach was one of the task force members with whom you could feel safer and closer. He was quiet, only speaking when needed, which made you feel more comfortable around him. You weren’t made to speak with him; he was happy to sit silently with you, watching a movie or reading a book separately. The two of you got along like two peas in a pod.

He’d notice when your mood changes, even if it was just from the slight frown you wore after breakfast. There was never a reason you had to tell him, he’d just know. And of course, he did his best to fix it, whether that was waking up to him already cooking breakfast, or coming home with a fresh bunch of flowers sitting on the kitchen counter.

Whenever you felt like talking, he’d listen. It was always his favourite part of the day to sit on the couch with you, listening to you happily ramble on about how some customer at work wouldn't stop complaining about something you had no control over, or how you saw this jacket while walking through the mall and thought it was gorgeous. (He would secretly plan to buy it for you, he always wants his precious girl to be happy). He’d feel comfortable enough with you to talk as well, telling you the stories of how he, Gaz and Soap had pranked Ghost (That never ends well), or how Price had been ruthless to them during training.

He will softly coo at you, “Awh, you don’t like it?” when he notices you struggling to eat the food you both had gone out to try and waited for a while in line for. You didn't want to waste it even if you didn’t like the taste of it. As much as he hoped you’d like this new experience, he wouldn't waste a second to take you to your favourite place instead so you get to eat something you enjoy. As long as you were happy and fed. (Thank you @gomzdrawfr for the idea!!)

He notices the moment you begin to feel uncomfortable around others and will stand up for you without a moment's notice. Whenever you're at some sort of gathering and are being crowded and overwhelmed, he will notice how you slowly take steps back, hugging yourself as you try and comfort yourself in such a situation. Your silence feels like the loudest thing in the room. If you aren’t comfortable with them, he will be quick to jump in, excusing you from the conversation and pulling you to the side so you have a moment to breathe.

He secretly adores how you are comfortable enough to speak to him. He will sit and admire how sweet your voice is, watching as you do the most mundane things around the house. It’s just the fact that you are his, you found him and he feels like the luckiest man on earth to be blessed with the sound of your voice every day.

[pinep-ne]

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

AHH!!! First time drawing them...

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

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

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

----------

"Charles."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Arthur, I've never..."

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

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

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

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

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

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

[rita-repulsa-ke]

The Legend of Saint Claws

"All right, Agatha," Rio said with a shake of her head, coming to her feet and doing a melodramatic twirl, green silk pajamas shifting into a dramatic red and white getup, it was always strange to see her in a color other than green. Her nails grew long and sharp, scraping through the air. "What do you think of—Saint Claws?"

Agatha and Rio, raising Nicky together in modern times. Just a cute little Christmas fic.

Maybe.

“Do you think Nicky's asleep?” Agatha asked Rio, toying with a cup of spiked eggnog, feet in her wife’s lap.

“No, I think he’s sitting in the dark, listening for the arrival of the flying reindeer on the roof,” Rio said. “You should probably tell him that none of that stuff is real. He’s old enough now.”

Agatha gave the other woman one of her characteristic twisted smiles. “Oh, let him keep his illusions for a little longer. Everyone deserves a few.” She sat up, swallowed the rest of her drink and put the cup aside, pointedly ignoring the way it disappeared as soon as she stopped touching it. “Besides, you know I love this part.”

Rio looked at her with comfortable, familiar affection, tucked up on their couch. “And I do love watching you enjoy yourself, beloved. Though I’m not sure why I have to be the one doing all the acting.”

“Because I’m doing the spell casting,” Agatha pointed out. “And I’m comfortable and uninterested in moving.” She did move enough to close the gap between them, though, enough to kiss the woman she loved, slow and sweet, savoring the contact the way she did every time.

When she pulled back, Rio's hand caught her wrist for a moment. "One more Christmas," she said. "Then we give this up, okay?"

"I don't see why you care so much," Agatha said, ignoring how tight Rio was holding on, the pressure on her wrist almost bruising. "We can talk about it next year."

Rio pulled her close and kissed her again with sudden, breathtaking force, the kind of kiss that ate away at the edges of the world. She pulled back too fast, gasping. "Later," she said, lips still tingling from the contact. "Save it for the bedroom, hmm? You have a job to do."

"All right, Agatha," Rio said with a shake of her head, coming to her feet and doing a melodramatic twirl, green silk pajamas shifting into a dramatic red and white getup, it was always strange to see her in a color other than green. Her nails grew long and sharp, scraping through the air. "What do you think of—Saint Claws?"

Agatha applauded, laughing. "Excellent, very scary," she said. "I wouldn't want to see that bringing me a sack of presents."

It had started out as a silly game, telling the boy that 'Saint Claws' would bring his presents on Christmas, but he'd best not look or else he might be torn to shreds. It was Agatha, of course, who'd escalated, started mixing in magic and costumes to make the whole thing seem real, until suddenly trying to catch a glimpse of Saint Claws without being caught was as much a part of Christmas as receiving the actual presents.

"All right, let's see if I can give you some really dramatic reindeer to herald your arrival," Agatha said, fishing around for the components for her spell, then glanced up to find Rio staring at her.

"You're so beautiful," the other woman murmured, which only made Agatha nod absent agreement, going back to setting up for the spell.

"Come on, up on the roof with you," she told Rio. "Oh, if you see Vision flying around up there, tell him hi for me."

"I thought you hated him?" Rio asked.

"Of course I do, I hate all of our neighbors, but I don't want them to know that, we still have to live here," Agatha said. "Well, I suppose I don't hate Wanda. But I don't see why she married that tinbucket calling itself a man."

"Ags, Wanda…" Rio started, then stopped. Instead, she turned to pull the bag of presents over her shoulder, careful not to rip them with her unnecessarily long claws.

When had that gotten there, Agatha thought. Surely they hadn't left it out in the living room, that was careless, Nicky would have seen it. She supposed she must have taken it out after he'd gone to bed.

She thought about asking Rio, but it wasn't important. Instead she lit the incense in front of her, and began the chant to summon her herd of illusory flying reindeer, listening as their hooves clattered loudly across the roof. She heard the sound of feet thudding above her as Nicky bolted out of bed, no doubt trying to get a glimpse of them landing on the roof. From across the street, she heard the sounds of a shrill voices yelling. At some point, Billy and Tommy had both gotten in on the 'Spot Saint Claws' game, much to the bemusement of their parents.

"Be careful out there," she told Rio. "And try not to gore any children. Especially not ours."

"Only if their eyes linger too long on—Saint Claws!" Rio said, with a terrible, shrieking laugh that made Agatha burst into much more human giggles.

"Oh, you are so sexy right now," she purred, blowing Rio a kiss.

"I'll remember you said that," her wife said, before teleporting away with her full sack of presents, landing on the roof with a heavy thunk. The yelling from outside intensified, alongside something that sounded like roaring, Rio really overdoing it on the sound effects.

"I see him, he's on the roof!" One of the twins said. "Look out, Nicky, he's coming down the right side, get back to bed before he sees you—aaaah! He's looking at me! Mom!!!"

She couldn't hear Nicky's voice, it occurred to her. He should be yelling back or shrieking in terror. Maybe she should go up and check on him, make sure that he wasn't too scared. They'd overdone it when he was four, she'd had to go up and hold him and promise him that she would never, ever let Saint Claws hurt him before he'd calmed down. But he was six now and he'd been so excited to try and spot Saint Claws, it was all he'd talked about when she'd put him to bed.

Still, she should go check.

It took her a minute to get off the couch, and far less time to get up the stairs. "Nicky?" she called as she stood outside his door, and got no answer. In fact, all the sounds outside had faded, none of Rio's ridiculous roaring or the boys yelling. It made her skin crawl and suddenly she was desperate to see Nicky. She wrapped her hand around the doorknob, pushed it open—

She realized the problem, the fundamental flaw, as the door swung open. She could recreate the whole world, but she couldn't remember what her son looked like.

On the ground of Westview, Agatha Harkness sagged and howled, her hands curled into fists that beat themselves into the ground. Next to her, inches away, lay the desiccated corpse of the Scarlet Witch.

"Tell me how it works!" Agatha screamed at Wanda's body. "I've got your power, I should be able to bring him back to me! Why can't I do it?!" A hand touched her shoulder and she jerked, turned to stare up at Rio, Death, her continual stalker. "How did you find me??"

"You summoned me into all of that, Ags," the woman she'd once loved said, looking down at her with an unreadable expression. "He's dead, beloved. You can't fix that with magic."

"I know," Agatha snarled. "Do you think I don't know that, you think I haven't tried? But hey," her lips quirked into a twisted, terrible smile. "I can pretend, can't I?" She motioned to Wanda. "It worked for her."

"I don't think you should," Rio said, voice soft, crouching down next to her. "I don't think that will make you happy."

"She seemed pretty happy, in her little twisted make-believe world," Agatha sneered.

Rio glanced at Wanda's corpse. "…She was. But she was better at lying to herself, I think."

"Do you know, I can't remember," Agatha whispered, the terrible truth slipping out. "I think that's why it doesn't work for me. I can't remember what he looked like. I can't remember the sound of his voice."

Rio opened her mouth, closed it, then wrapped her arms around Agatha without saying a word.

Maybe it was the familiarity or the recent pretense of marriage or maybe it was simply that she was suddenly so tired, every year of her long life hitting her at once, but she collapsed into Rio's arms, let the woman she'd once loved hold her, stroke her hair and whisper sweet nothings in dead languages to her.

Then she had an idea.

"Rio," she said, her voice coming out rusty and raw from the screaming. "You remember."

Death stared down at her, her eyes widening as Agatha's meaning sunk in. "...Beloved, you don't want this. Not really."

Agatha cupped the other woman's cheek, staring into those endless eyes, currently reflecting her back to herself, which wasn't anything she wanted to see. "Why not? It won't make me happy? I don't remember being happy. And it will get what you want, won't it? Come on, Rio." Her lips twisted, curled into a smile brimming with madness. "Marry me. Live happily after ever." She raised a hand, crackling with red and purple power.

Rio shuddered against her, stared at that hand for a moment, then twined her fingers through Agatha's, green and black power wrapping around their combined hands, then spinning itself into a circle, a ring, which slid neatly over Agatha's finger.

"I do," Death said.

Agatha opened the door and Nicky flew into her arms, his face bright with excitement. "Mom!" he said. "Listen, can you hear? Saint Claws is outside!"

"So he is," Agatha said, listening to the melodramatic roaring with a shake of her head, a shake that cleared some of the last of the cobwebs, pushed away any thoughts that might have otherwise intruded. She toyed absently with her wedding ring as she said, "Go ahead and take a look. I'll make sure you're safe."

[siwolism]

Hi.... Could you tell us more about Hamhung? Could be anything, just the way you talked about the sunset in your post Affected me in the best way possible

i was going to give you a bunch of fun facts, and i still can if you want me to, but instead, here’s a memory:

growing up in hamhung, you had a lot of freedom. once you had legs enough to keep up with the older kids, your parents pretty much let you go. it was one of those places with a “every kid is everyone’s kid” mentality. it was safe enough that the streets felt like an extension of the playground. by the time I was five, I had joined this little crew of kids from my kindergarten and soon-to-be primary school, along with a couple of older ones from their first year of secondary school who led our gang.

we loved the beach. getting there was easy, trains everywhere, and where there weren’t trains, there were long stretches of quiet road, but we always took the train. after school, we’d drop our bags at home, grab whatever we needed for the beach, shout our plans to our parents, and then sprint through the streets toward hamhung station. most of the time, we’d all arrive together, but if one of us got held up and caused the rest of us to miss the first train, we’d whine about it the whole ride down.

once we made it to hungnam, we’d race off the train, down the road, and straight to the beach. that beach in hungnam was everything to us. wide and endless in the way that, to a kid, felt like you could run forever without hitting the edge of the earth. the sand was the yellow white kind you’d see in travel brochures that felt warm under your feet from the day’s sun. the water stretched out in shifting shades of green and blue, shallow for ages before suddenly dropping off, and always hot no matter how low the sun descended. behind us, the shoreline was framed by a scattering of rocky cliffs, overgrown with stubborn grass and huge trees that the older kids would climb up onto and off into the water. the air smelled salty and tangy. but other times soft and earthy, that’s when the rain was coming.

we ran everywhere because we had rules: back before sundown, no exceptions. we wanted to stretch those hours into forever. however these (in our eyes) dictatorial rules would fall. eventually, our constant whining wore our parents down, and they agreed to extend our curfew to 10:30, on the condition that we found some older kids or adults to look after us.

for weeks, we searched the beach for anyone who’d fit the bill. no luck. then one day, one of the older boys decided to take us to some cliffs at the far end of the beach. we climbed over, and there, on the other side, we found them: a group of university students from the naval school, sitting in the sand and eating takeout.

the next day, we launched our plan. we spent the afternoon playing like usual. racing, swimming, pretending we were in the opera. but as the sun started to dip, we got ready. we practiced and waited to see if they came and luckily for us, they did. me and another friend, being the youngest and arguably the most adorable, ran up to them and begged these exhausted students to come watch us perform.

we’d prepared a whole routine. our song was a mashup between a local folk song about a naval hero and a desperate plea to save us from the terrible fait of having to be home by 7:30. i guess we were convincing (or pitiable) enough because they agreed. they built us a fire, kept an eye on us while we played in the water, and when it got dark, they called us back to sit around the flames.

that became our routine. we’d listen to them tell stories about crazy roommates, exchange trips to china, and professors who made their lives hell. by 9:15, they’d walk us to the station, give us a note to prove we’d been supervised, and send us on our way.

it went on like that for over a year. our own little world of saltwater and firelight, all thanks to bone tired students who where generous enough to play parent to hamhung’s rowdiest group three nights a week.

[r0tting-rat]

Happy Christmas!

Pairing: Sun x Moon x Gender Neutral Reader Warning: None Words: 1900+ Au: Midnight Overture: Cotard's Delirium (by me) Summary: It's Christmas Eve, and you do the mistake of sleeping-in while in the same house as two very strict robots. As a result to your laziness, you are forced to help out one of your bitchy employers in the kitchen. (Sun-centric, Sun's name is Sonne)

The walls of the manor were quiet, despite it being Christmas Eve. No child was running through the halls, no shadow or whisper could be heard behind closed doors or seen peeking behind corners—the rooms were all empty of their usual inhabitants, for Moon had taken all the kids outside to play in the snow. You had woken up late that morning, groaning in pain as your back and arm muscles complained and screamed at you to relax, with no automaton to knock on your door or scream at you to get dressed and come down for breakfast. In fact, after sending a glance to the clock hanging on the wall next to the door, you realized that you had skipped the meal altogether. Did Sonne really let you sleep that long? Seeing the clock’s hands pointing at 10:35, you immediately jumped up to your feet, cursing under your breath as you hurried to get dressed before any of the two automata caught you slacking off, throwing on a random sweater you had found at the foot of your bed and attempting to slip inside a pair of jeans you had left laying on the floor next to the drawer. Sonne was going to kill you for being late—seriously this time. He didn’t like when people left him waiting.

“Sonne?” you began to call after finally leaving your room, searching your brain for a plausible excuse as to why you were still sleeping past 10 am while running down the hall. You almost jumped down the stairs leading to the second floor, turning right and expecting to find the automaton sitting in the living room, in front of the fire, like he liked to do on cold winter mornings like that one. “Sonne, I’m so sorry, I couldn’t…!”

The automaton wasn’t there where you were used to find him; the fire was lit, the couches and comfy armchairs were surrounding it just like you had left them the night before, but no sun-themed robot was sitting on the one closest to the burning brazier with a soft blanket covering his shoulders and arms, complaining about the cold freezing his wires and locking his limbs in places. You looked, confused, outside the windows, expecting to see the large backyard covered in snow staring back at you, finding instead the three kids playing in the white coat of winter with their lunar guardian. Basil, the youngest, was trying to sneak up on Moon, as his older sisters Blanche and Annabel threw snowballs at the laughing automaton. Where else could Sonne be? Your second guess turned out to be the right one; the kitchen, rummaging through cupboards and drawers, dancing around the burning stoves and grilling pans like only someone who had cooked in the same house for 30 years could do.

Standing in a corner of the dining room, which opened on the left from the stairs, you hid from the automaton, squishing your body behind the white arch that separated the kitchen from the dining room. You listened to him working and let your body be surrounded by the enticing smells of his cooking, afraid to let your presence be known in case the robot was mad at you for being late. You were supposed to sweep the snow off the front yard that morning, but incredibly, you had messed up and slept in.

Peeking around the corner, into the bright kitchen, you let your curiosity conquer your mind and attemted to get a glimpse of what Sonne was cooking, daring to take a step forward when your eyes couldn’t see what was hiding inside those saucepans and bowls. 

The automaton was dressed in fine brown trousers and a cream-colored sweater, layered over a white button up which peeked up from under the collar, paired with his usual black dress shoes. A red apron hugged his front, closing tightly in a perfect knot around his extremely thin waist, but you could bet your head on the fact that no drop or stain would have been found on the red fabric, were you to go and check right in that moment. Your eyes wandered down, to the place where you often found them lingering, enchanted; to the ever-working robot’s hands, which moved with such grace and precision over the kitchen’s counter that you could barely understand what he was doing. Slim and long, the metallic brass-colored fingers looked delicate and kind under the bright lights of the room, but you had seen them lifting furniture and wood logs heavier than you in the past to know better and not be fooled by how gentle they might have looked at first sight. Sonne, in general, looked overall like a pretty delicate automaton, but that had never eased your fears and worries enough to allow you to relax in their presence.

“Would you come in and help me?” he asked, startling you and almost making you lose your balance as you leaned against the arch. You hadn’t expected him to see you so soon, turned around as he was, too! Did the robot have eyes behind his head? Sonne glanced over his shoulder, his pale blue optics fixing on you with all the intensity they always held, and you shivered on the spot. 

“So? You’re just going to stand there and do nothing as I cook supper for tonight?” Sonne asked you again, and just then you realized that he wasn’t mad at you for sleeping in, despite the usual cold expression on his face. “Cut some parsley for me, will you? Enough to fill that bowl over there.”

He pointed at an orange bowl sitting on the counter next to him, then he resumed stirring something with a wooden spoon inside the huge pot in front of him. Steam rose up from it, slightly fogging the small, circular glasses sitting on the slight edge of his nose. You were pretty sure that the glasses had been glued to his faceplate, because there was no way they could stay still on his flat features.

Slowly, you began to walk towards him, hesitant to stand too close to his tall frame and get in the way of his work. After a few seconds, you managed to summon the words you needed to express your confusion.

“Aren’t you mad that I didn’t sweep the snow off the porch and yard this morning?” you wondered, and the robot rolled his eyes in his dramatic manner. “I slept in, and…”

“No, I’m not,” replied Sonne, “Wash the parsley before cutting it, and remember to make sure it’s finely minced, or Basil will refuse to eat and start to pick at it.”

You hadn’t forgotten about the little picky eater, but that didn’t answer your question.

“So… It’s not a problem if I woke up, like, fifteen minutes ago?” you continued, and once more the automaton sighed, annoyed. 

“Do you seriously think I’d force you to wake up and work on Christmas Eve?” Sonne asked, turning around to send you an offended glare, “Yesterday you went to sleep late after helping mein Mondlicht in the library, so it’s only fair we’d allow you to sleep in this morning. I’m not a monster, liebling.”

After that last sentence, you felt a little bad for assuming the worst about your employer, but at the same time he had proved to be quite cruel in the past, so you weren’t entirely in the wrong. Shrugging, you went to stand next to him, grabbing a handful of parsley and moving it to the sink to wash.

“Mondlicht took care of the yard and porch a few hours ago,” Sonne explained, resuming his previous task and turning around, giving you his back once more, “Which means that you can stop moping around and help me out in the kitchen to prepare for tonight.”

“What are we making?” you asked him, taking out a knife from one of the drawers. At your question, the automaton hummed gently, like your curiosity had pleased him greatly.

“Since last year we followed the German tradition, this Christmas we’re going with the Italian one. You wouldn’t know, since this is your first Christmas with us, but it's common in this household to take turns on who gets to cook for the other,” replied the automaton, leaving your side to go and open the fridge to take out some butter. “I’m cooking for mein Mondlicht a dish from his hometown: creamed codfish with polenta.”

As you began to cut the freshly washed parsley, you stole a glance in Sonne’s direction, not missing the little smile on his face and the shine in his eyes; a shine you had seen on very few occasions, and never directed towards you. He looked happy just at the thought of cooking for his family. 

“What if I said that I’d rather not eat fish?” you grinned, bringing your eyes back on the knife, “Would Moon hit me on the head for not following his tradition?”

You didn’t hear Sonne moving closer to you, in fact, you didn’t even see his shadow looming over you before his hands were grabbing yours, stopping your movements, and his chest was pressed against your back.

“Of course not,” he replied, taking hold of both your hands and carefully beginning to maneuver them on the cutting board, correcting your stance and showing you the proper way to mince herbs. All the while, you were staring down at his fingers entwined with yours with wide eyes, unblinking, unable to even breathe as the robot’s voice rumbled against the back of your skull. “Me and Moonie love to teach the little ones about all the interesting traditions of our different cultures, but that’s not where we stop. They’re such smart little humans, they’re always eager for more, so more is what we give them. We cook dishes from France, Belgium, Turkey, Spain; what’s wrong with adding another? I’m sure we’d easily find something you’d enjoy as well, liebling.”

Your heart was beating so hard in your chest that you could barely be able to hear the robot’s words over it. You weren’t sure, at first, if your sudden panic was caused by fear or embarrassment, but you found out quickly which one of the two it was when Sonne chuckled and your face turned a deep shade of pink. With amusement, the brass automaton took a step back, releasing your hands from his hold, and watched as you blinked a few times to regain your composure. 

“I’m sure you can go on from here without my help,” he said, smiling, even though you were visibly more lost than before, “Given that you have carefully watched and learned from my demonstration.”

Still blushing, you looked up at him over your shoulder, involuntarily letting him know with your large, panicked eyes that you hadn’t followed his advice at all. With a theatrical sigh, Sonne pushed you aside and took place on the cutting board next to you, rolling up the sleeves of his sweater and then taking out a second knife from the drawer on his right.

“Alright, I’ll show you once more,” he declared, tilting his head back to stare down at you like he often did, “Don’t get distracted this time though. Understood?”

Silently, you nodded, and that seemed to be enough for Sonne.

“Good,” he hummed, “Hope you’re actually the fast learner you claim to be in your resume.”

Happy Christmas to those of you who celebrate <3

Mein Mondlicht= my moonlight

Liebling= darling/dear