#it looks ugly as shit but people want to fuck scrooge

[20thcenturyfoxx]

[luxekook]

when fire meets frost | kth

as part of the christmas with bangtan: secret santa collab

❅ pairing: kim taehyung x reader

❅ genre: second chance romance, exes to lovers, angst, smut, fluff

❅ summary: just like a bad holiday song, you gave taehyung your heart last christmas. only in this scenario, he broke it eight months later. now you’re both back at that same damn holiday party where you first met one year ago and you’re just praying for you and your heart to leave in one piece.

❅ word count: 5.8k

❅ warnings: 18+, cursing, suggestive comments, drinking, DIY mistletoe, light violence, random ‘A Streetcar Named Desire’ references, drunk tae (TM), break-up flashbacks, weird humor, hella tension, hella groveling, making out, smut [oral (m to f)], the fluffiest of fluff (borderline cheese...actually...full-on cheese)

❅ banner by: the almighty and powerful maggie @kimtaehyunq​ - who also is the collab host!

Present Day: The Christmas Party, 8:00PM

Taehyung is staring at you. Again. Though you're facing slightly away from him, you know that if you give even the slightest glance over, your suspicions will all but be confirmed. The heated gaze you feel skimming over your body continues as you take a much needed sip of your mulled wine and pray that you get out of his line of vision soon with your dignity still intact.

Seokjin, your best friend and current partner in conversation, notices your predicament and scoffs, “You really should just put that boy out of his misery, (y/n). Scrooge himself would be down to have a foursome with the Ghosts of Christmas Past, Present and Future if he was around all this pent-up sexual tension.”

Your red-painted lips curl in a surely unattractive manner that resembles something between a grimace and a grin. You’ve heard variations of this argument about a dozen times from just as many sources, but Seokjin’s might just be the most absurd.

“I don’t know how or why your brain went right to a ghost-fucking analogy, but I’ve long since given up trying to understand your thought processes.”

Seokjin’s chest puffs up at your words like they incite something he should feel proud of. You sigh and shake your head at him, feeling a mix of exasperation and endearment - a constant haze of comfort you feel around your best friend.

“I’m just saying,” Seokjin continues, completely undeterred by your attempts to divert the conversation onto him, “He’s hot. You’re hot. He’s still into you. You’re still into him. I don’t see the problem.”

“I never said–!” You cut yourself off. He’s baiting you. “You son of a nutcracker. You know full well what the problem is. I’ve told you more times than Yoongi has yelled at someone for getting too close to his precious sound system.

At your words, you both look over to your left where Yoongi is currently chewing out a sheepish Namjoon with a death-grip on his expensive ass speakers.

“And I’ve told you that your reasons are shaky at best, (y/n),” Seokjin sighs, placing his chin in his palm and leaning over to you. He continues with a conspiring whisper, “Just because you’re scared you’ll get hurt again doesn’t mean you should never put yourself back out there.”

“Oh yeah,” You scowl, “That’s easy for you to say. You’ve never been dumped by the boy you love because he ‘wants to explore other options’. And then have to keep being around said-boy because you’re in the same friend group. And then fast forward a few months to when that same boy shows up drunk at your doorstep asking for you to take him back because you’re ‘the only one for him’. Spoiler alert: that’s fucking bullshit. And then–”

Seokjin slaps a palm over your mouth, effectively cutting you off mid-rant. “Babe, you have to stop rehashing this. Taehyung clearly is still in love with you. He looks at you like he wants to fucking eat you for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Besides, Tae hasn’t even hooked up with anyone since he asked for another chance.”

“That we know of,” You mumble darkly behind Seokjin’s palm - your words only a barely audible jumble of syllables.

“Are you accosting my date, Jin?” The voice of your co-worker and close friend Felix meets your ears as you shove Seokjin’s hand off of you. When you invited Felix to come to Jimin’s annual holiday party, you briefed him on the situation - like any good friend would. You needed him there as an extra buffer. While you love Seokjin, he definitely can get swept up into petty drama - namely baseless arguments with Jungkook.

As your closest work friend, Felix knows all about you and Taehyung, and therefore he agreed to be your “date” in exchange for your help in getting him a date with Alicia, the new accountant in your office. You’ve spent countless hours sitting next to each other as desk neighbors and coworkers. Felix is quiet, cute and respectful - not to mention his voice is to die for.

Felix’s hand settles on the middle of your back in completely friendly territory, but you can’t help but feel the eyes on you have ramped up in intensity. You wonder if Felix can feel his hand burning from the heat and almost think he does when Felix drops his hand a second later.

It’s one thing to make you uncomfortable. You’ve learned to stomach that. But it’s another thing to make your friends uncomfortable. And for that you turn and level a glare at that beautiful asshole, sitting at a nearby table with Jimin and still looking at you with those goddamn eyes.

Taehyung shamelessly stares back at you as Jimin prattles on about something in his ear before noticing Tae’s mind is elsewhere. Following his gaze to you, Jimin groans and shoves Taehyung’s shoulder before strutting away towards the kitchen. You watch as Jimin saunters by and roll your eyes when he winks at you when your eyes meet. That one has always been trouble.

When you turn back around, Taehyung is still staring at you. No, this time he’s staring at your body - namely, your ass. You ignore the burst of heat that runs through you and make a face somewhere between a scowl and a glare. He looks up at you without the least bit of remorse.

Your eyes narrow. Your ass isn’t even out! Your green ugly Christmas sweater adorned with real ornaments basically falls to your knees. But then again, Taehyung has always had a vivid imagination - and an even better memory. His mind is like a goddamn vault.

You tug your attention away from your ex and back to the current conversation. But your thoughts wander. You still feel that pull towards Taehyung - that same damn pull that’s been there since you first met him. And that scares the shit out of you.

Flashback: The First Meeting, Last Christmas

You’re perched on the arm of Namjoon’s black pleather sofa (“It doesn’t stain! Can you believe that?” “Namjoon, it’s ripped in seven places.”). Surveying the flurry of friends scattered throughout the cozy apartment, you only see a few people that you don’t know. But something feels different tonight, and you just can’t figure out why.

Did Namjoon rearrange his plants? Did Jimin part his hair differently? Did Hoseok change his outfit - again?  

“A-yo, (y/n)!” Seokjin yells over to you from clear across the room. You’re always baffled at how clueless that boy is to social cues. “Come meet Taehyung!” Your friend continues to yell, practically pinwheeling his arms to beckon you over to his side of the room. You can vaguely make out an unknown figure standing with their back to you, facing Seokjin in conversation.

You sigh. Might as well get this over with before Seokjin decides to start pretending to lasso you over to his side of the room. Or worse - get his actual lasso that he has for some unknown reason. A natural performer that boy is. Getting to your feet, you cross the room. Your heartbeat thuds in your chest and you rub a hand over your heart absentmindedly.

What is wrong with you? Meeting new people always brings nerves, but you never usually feel this out of sorts. You step into Seokjin’s outstretched arm and into the embrace of your best friend. And then you look up at the newcomer.

Hooded dark eyes. Curly black hair. Perfect pink lips. Jawline chiseled by the gods.

Your breath catches in your throat. Words buzz in the air around you but you can't distinguish one from the next. You’re pretty sure Seokjin is making some sort of joke because his sides start to shake and the beautiful stranger looks exasperatedly amused. Yet, his eyes never stray from yours.

His lips part like his breath is caught in his throat.

“Taehyung-ie, don’t be rude! Say hi!” Seokjin shoves Taehyung, jolting you both out of your little staring contest.

“Hi,” Taehyung repeats. Your stomach flips at the depth of his voice. “I’m Taehyung. Kim Taehyung. You can call me Tae. Or V. Or just Taehyung.”

Your smile widens at his ramblings and the rising color of his cheeks. “Hi, Tae,” You can't help but grin up at the adorable, beautiful boy. He really looks angelic under the kitchen lights. His halo of curls frames his face in such a way that makes you want to curl your finger around one and tug.

Vaguely, you can tell that Seokjin is shooting rapid looks between you and Taehyung, looking like some sort of bobblehead in 100mph winds. Suddenly, a Grinch-like grin takes over his face. “Why don’t you crazy kids get some more wine? I need to talk to Yoongi...” Seokjin slips away.

In hindsight, you should have immediately been tipped off that Seokjin was up to no good. Seokjin seeking out Yoongi? Nothing good ever comes from that.

And you were right. Not twenty minutes later, you and Taehyung are both stuttering messes underneath a hastily tapped up branch of mistletoe - at least that’s what Seokjin’s calling it. You think it looks like a clump of grass with a grape thrown in there.

Just as you start to tell Taehyung that he doesn’t have to feel pressured by your lame friends, he cups your face in his hands and lowers his lips to yours.

Fucking magic.

There aren’t fireworks or sparks. There’s a whole blazing inferno between the two of you.

Your hands slide up his back, tangling in the curls at the nape of his neck. Taehyung lets out a small gasp as your fingers tug on his locks, and you slowly slide your tongue across his lower lip.

“Uh, okay… Hello? Hey, guys!”

Finally, Yoongi slams together two pans from the kitchen, jolting you both away from each other in fright.

“Break that shit up,” Yoongi shoots a glare at a grinning Seokjin. “I did not sign up for that level of PDA, Jin.”

“I can’t predict love, Yoongi-ah. I can only bring lovers together,” Jin sighs, clasping his hands over his heart dramatically. Yoongi pinches Seokjin in the side, immediately instigating a fight.

Taehyung reclaims your attention, shyly intertwining his pinky with yours. In the midst of all the chaos around you, he just looks at you like you are the only thing that matters.

Present Day: The Christmas Party, 9:02PM

“I don’t know how you survive when he looks at you like that. I’m practically melting just being in proximity of the two of you.”

Your friend Ciana’s comment pulls your attention away from your demon of an ex as he strides by, leveling you with a calculated smolder.

It’s a look that says he’s going to fuck you up in the best way - the way that used to leave you weak in the knees and covered in hickies. Taehyung’s fuck me eyes are your kryptonite. He knows it. You know it. The whole party knows it. Hence, it makes sense how he’s shamelessly using them any fucking chance he can just to mess with you.

It’s practically a fulltime job pretending it doesn't affect you. And it's a job you are failing at miserably.

You sigh and take a big sip of your drink. “Oh, I'm not surviving,” You confess, “This is just a hologram image of me. I’m practically clear across the country by now.”

Ciana laughs, “Girl, I don't blame you, but I have to say… He looks like he would follow you anywhere.”

You scoff. There was a time where you would wholeheartedly agree. Since your first meeting, Tae made you feel like you were the center of his universe.

After talking all night at Seokjin’s party, you exchanged numbers and within a few days Tae asked you out.

Your first date was to an art gallery. The two of you spent hours there, studying art and exchanging soft murmured interpretations. You would often catch Taehyung staring at you instead of at the paintings decorating the walls, and it made you feel all warm and fuzzy.

The dates continued until Taehyung managed to gather up the courage to ask you to be exclusive - his words, not yours. You hadn’t believed that he could ever have doubted your answer. But in hindsight, you probably should have doubted him.

Things were great for a while. No - they were better than great. They were the best eight months of your fucking life. Until they weren’t.

“Why did y’all break up again?” Ciana asks, pulling your attention to her once more.

You let a bitter laugh escape. “You’ll have to ask him that.”

Flashback: The Break-Up, August

“I want to see other people.”

The words strike you like a serrated blade. The plate you’re washing falls into the sink with a clatter. Your heart stills in your chest.

“What?” For a second you believe that you must have misheard him. Only he crushes that hope into dust within seconds.

“I said I want to see other people.” Taehyung repeats, a bit louder.

“You mean like taking a break?” You refuse to turn around and face him. You refuse to believe that your relationship is crumbling down. Your mind tries to grasp at straws. “Or trying ethical non-monogamy?”

“No, (y/n),” Taehyung sighs, “I mean that I want to break up.”

“But why? I don’t understand.” The tears begin to sting your eyes as you blink rapidly, trying to make sense of the blindside that Taehyung just threw at you. “What did I do? How can I fix this?”

“You can’t, okay?” The exasperation in his voice is palpable. “I’m bored here. I feel tied down. We’re both so young... How can we know we’re right for each other when there’s so many other people out there?”

“Where the hell is this coming from?” You seethe, finally whirling to face him. Taehyung flinches when he sees your tearstained face but you persevere and continue, “I bore you? That’s sure not what it seemed like two days ago when you were fucking me against the wall of that club bathroom.”

“Things change,” Taehyung scowls, “I need to explore other options, (y/n), and I think you should, too.”

Your heart is breaking, a fissure splitting it right down the middle. “You want to explore other options,” You repeat, in a deadpan voice. “Do you already have someone in mind?”

The split second pause Taehyung takes is all you need to know the answer to that.

“Get out.”

“(Y/n), it wasn’t the only reason!” Taehyung scrambles to explain. “We haven’t even done anything yet!”

“Oh, you’re a ‘we’ already? Fuck you, Kim Taehyung.”

“No! That’s not what I meant!”

“Well, I hope you’re happy with them. I hope they don’t bore you or tie you down. I hope you’re right for each other. I hope youre fucking happy with yourself and your decision.”

“Can’t we still be friends?”

You don’t deem that question worthy enough of an answer and slam your front door in the face of the person who ten minutes ago had been the love of your life.

Present Day: The Christmas Party, 10:21PM

The amount of love in the room is making your stomach turn. You watch as your coupled up friends exchange presents and kisses. You’re so happy for each and every one of them, don’t get you wrong. You just can’t help but feel increasingly alone with each passing minute.

Felix notices the dip in your mood and nudges you, “Hey. You okay?”

“Yeah,” You snuggle deeper into his side. Thank god for Felix. “Thanks for coming with me to this shindig. It would have been hard to be alone this year.”

“No worries, babe. Besides, how else am I gonna get Alicia to go out with me?”

You laugh at Felix’s words. The boy was oblivious to the fact that Alicia had already approached you to ask if he was single. Sometimes you enjoy your diabolical mind. “Oh, she’ll definitely go out with you,” You reply, pinching his cheek, “Who could resist this face?”

“You did. Three years ago,” Felix whines, shoving your hand away from him playfully.

“Sadly you’re not my type, pretty boy,” You sigh. It truly was sad. Felix is the nicest human you know - besides Seokjin. The fact that you're not interested just reinforces the idea that you have terrible taste in men.

“You’re thinking about him again, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know who you could possibly be referring to,” You sniff, turning away.

“Oh, I don’t know… Maybe the guy that hasn’t stopped circling you like a fucking shark in water since we got here?”

“He has not,” You retort, rolling your eyes.

“A-ha! So you do know exactly who I’m referring to, you little liar!”

“Goddamnit,” You laugh. “I need another drink to put up with you. You want a refill?” You gesture towards his cup.

“Nah, I’m good,” Felix shakes his head. You nod and head over to the kitchen, thankfully seeing no sign of ‘Shark Boy’.

But you spoke too soon, because just as you’re reaching up for a new mug you feel him.

“Is that little boy out there your boyfriend? I didn’t think you were dating anyone,” A rough voice growls from entirely too close to your ear.

You turn your head and shoot your best side-eye at the asshole who’s heated stare is aimed straight down at you. You internally curse at the unfortunate fact that Kim Taehyung somehow still can manage to look gorgeous in a bright red sweater with a whole-ass Santa beard stitched to its collar. You have never hated him more given that you look like a hot mess of a Christmas tree that no one wants to climb.

“I don’t see how that is any of your business, Kim,” You retort, turning around again and grabbing a glass from the cabinet. You can feel his warmth surrounding you as he grabs the mug for you instead, his body pushed up against yours.

“Move,” You order, your voice shaking slightly. But instead of listening, Tae grabs your hips and turns you around, caging you in between his arms.

“See, you’re wrong, (y/n),” His eyes dart from your own to your lips, “Everything that concerns you is my business. It has since the moment I met you, and it hasn’t stopped since.”

The incredulous snort escapes you before you can attempt to rein it in, “Taehyung, you broke up with me! I’m pretty sure that means you consider me old news and - above all - none of your fucking business.”

“And I told you I made a mistake!” Taehyung leans closer, his jaw ticking.

“You were drunk!” You stab a finger into his admittedly toned chest that you can feel even through that abominable Santa beard, “And it took you two fucking months to say that, only to never bring it up again. So excuse me if I find your argument lacking.”

“Fuck,” Taehyung curses softly, running a hand through his mess of curls, “I miss that smart mouth.”

“Yeah?” Your response flies out too fast for your brain to check your words, “Well I miss being enough for you.”

Taehyung looks stricken. “Baby…” He reaches for you but you duck past him and beeline straight for Jimin’s bathroom. Locking yourself inside, you slide to the floor and contemplate your chances of sneaking out the tiny bathroom window just like you did that night some months ago.

Flashback: A Streetcar Named WTF, October

A harsh banging sound jolts you awake. “What the fuck,” You mumble, fumbling around blindly trying to find your phone amidst the blankets and pillows surrounding you.

Finally, your hand locates the small metal device and you switch your screen on. Your eyes immediately shut at the brightness and you muster up the will to peek at the time.

3:12AM.

Who the hell dares to pound on your door at this hour? What is this - A Streetcar Named Desire? Well, slap your ass and call you Blanche because this asshole is about to feel your wrath.

Stomping over to your door, you swing it open and say, “There’s no Stella here, Stanley. Fuck off.”

While you don’t find a drunk Marlon Brando on your doorstep, you do find a drunk Taehyung.

“Who the fuck’s Stanley?” Tae glares, trying to cross his arms but failing somehow.

“Good lord, Taehyung,” You groan, grabbing his arm and dragging him inside your apartment, “You smell like a whole goddamn brewery. How did you even end up here?”

“Walked,” He says proudly while smiling down at your hand on his arm like an idiot. “Who’s Stamplee? I mean, Stangfree.”

You pinch your nose with your free hand. This boy… Ignoring his idiocy completely, you question, “You walked?” You push him down onto your couch and head into your kitchen to grab him some water.

“Yup! All by myself! Are you proud of me? Sandflea could never!”

You jump. Somehow Tae still managed to sneak up behind you while drunk out of his mind.

“Kim Taehyung, sit your drunk ass down.” You jab a finger in the direction of the couch he just vacated.

“But you’re so far away when I sit all the way over there, baby,” He pouts, giving you puppy dog eyes. “And I’m not drunk!”

You don’t dignify his words with a response. Handing the glass of water to the problem currently sprawled out on your couch, you sigh. What are you going to do with him? He can’t stay here… But he’s in no shape to walk back to wherever the fuck he came from.

“Tell me, Kim, why did you think that walking to my apartment of all places was a good idea? I could have moved!” Disdain drips from every syllable, “Is anything going on in that brain of yours? If so, it’s clearly not making any sense.”

“I beg to differ,” Taehyung has the audacity to grin up at you as he continues, “My brain makes perfect sense, baby. You plus me equals three.” His eyebrows wiggle up and down as he swings his hands out, showering you with the glass of water you just handed him.

“Maybe I’ll call you a math tutor along with your Uber,” You mumble as you fight the urge to laugh at the mess of a boy staring up at you from your couch. Grabbing a kitchen towel, you dab the water off of you as best you can. Glancing back down at Tae, you notice his attention has fallen to your chest, where the water he practically threw at you has plastered your tanktop to your skin.

“Hey, eyes up here,” You slap his arm with the damp towel, but he doesn’t even flinch.

“One more minute,” He says, absentmindedly rubbing his arm.

His attention gives you butterflies for a split second before you lock that shit down. You aren’t a fool; you’re fully aware that Taehyung’s the farthest thing from available, but he’s still hot as hell with his muscular stature, his wicked brown eyes, and his full pink lips. And that deep voice… it has shamefully been the fuel of your fantasies for the past few weeks. But that is neither here nor there.

So while his undivided attention always did make you feel fucking incredible, now he’s just a drunk boy who’s acting like he’s never seen nipples before.

“I’m calling you an Uber, okay?” You finally say, grabbing your phone and pulling up the app.

“Can’t I stay here?” Taehyung pouts, “Or will Surley get mad?”

“His name is Stanley,” You automatically reply and then curse as Taehyung lurches to his feet.

“I knew it! Where is he? Where is my replacement? I challenge him to a duel!”

“A duel?” You can’t help but laugh, “On what grounds?”

“For your hand, of course!” Taehyung rapidly glances around your apartment before his eyes land on the broom tucked in the corner of your kitchen. “There’s my sword!”

Before he can take a step towards his ‘sword’, you grab his arm and push him back down onto your couch.

“Wow, you’re strong!” Tae stares up at you adoringly, “And so-o cute. Wanna date?”

“You’re drunk, Tae. Don’t say things like that.” God, he’s going to give you a complex. You had just started getting over him and now he does this? Why is life deadset on fucking you over?

“But I do wanna date you!” Taehyung insists, “Don’t you miss me? Miss us? I still love you. I never stopped.”

“Tae, please stop.”

“I made a mistake, baby, and I wanna fix it. Can you give me a chance? Please?” His brown eyes blink up at you slowly. His lids practically fight to stay open as his words slur together.

The boy is falling asleep. Sighing, you close the Uber app. Looks like you’re housing your ex for the evening.

“I wanna marry you,” He mumbles, “Bought the ring last week. If you can just love me again I’ll be the luckiest…” His words get more and more inaudible. Mumbles about Stanley and revenge and kisses and altars filter through as you place a blanket over his form.

“Goodnight, Tae.” You can’t resist brushing your fingers through his hair. Your heart stutters as he practically leans into your touch like a cat, smiling contentedly.

“We’ll see if you remember this in the morning,” You mutter, setting another glass of water and a bottle of ibuprofen on the coffee table for him when he wakes up.

After making sure Taehyung’s on his side with a bucket for potential incidents, you head back to bed.

When you wake up, he’s nowhere to be found.

Present Day: The Christmas Party, 10:23PM

“(y/n)... baby, please let me in.”

The underlying meaning of those six words is not lost on you. Could you let him in again? Taehyung once held your heart and then he basically smashed it on concrete and backed over it with his car - twice.

“Go away.” Your words sound weak even to your own ears.

“No, I need to talk to you… Please.” His voice breaks on the last word and you cave. Standing you unlock the door and back up. You could have a logical and reasonable discussion with Tae and get some closure, leaving all feelings out of it. Maybe...

“Two minutes,” You declare, “Nothing more.”

“But–”

You cut him off, “1:55…” You tap your foot and smile as Taehyung shoots you a look.

“Fine,” He rubs the back of his neck, peeking up at you under his lashes. “I got scared, okay?”

Your disbelief must show all over your face because he continues.

“Yeah, I was scared - fucking terrified of how much I feel for you. How in love with you I am. How can it be that easy to find your soulmate? It didn’t make any sense to me. And then Pia began to show an interest in me and I convinced myself it was a good idea to distance myself from you. To see other people. To try to make sense of my feelings.”

You hold up a hand. “So, you’re saying that you broke up with me because you were ‘too in love with me?’ What the fuck kind of selfish bullshit is that, Taehyung? You broke my fucking heart for someone you didn’t even like because you were scared I was your soulmate? Don’t you see how that just makes me feel like shit?”

Taehyung sinks to his knees. “(Y/n), baby, please. I am so sorry. I fucked up in the worst, most selfish way possible. It kills me that I broke your heart.”

“Ugh, get up, you drama king.” You pull him to his feet, continuing, “Why did you leave after that night? You said all those things when you were drunk and then just left.”

“Yeah, I kind of don’t remember what I said or how I even ended up at your place.” A blush takes over his face, “It’s so embarrassing you had to see me like that and I kind of just wanted to forget it happened. And I really hoped that you forgot it did, too. I didn’t expect you to just keep acting like you forgot my existence altogether.”

“What does that mean? I see you all the time, Tae! We’re in the same friend group for god’s sakes. We’re around each other all the time… Maybe even too much.” You mumble the last few words, but he catches them.

“Too much? You avoid me at all costs! You don’t smile at me anymore. You don’t even look at me most times! It kills me that all I get from you now is ice, when I know you have so much fire.”

His words confuse you. So he does want you back? Your friends weren’t exaggerating? A small burst of hope swells inside you, but the memory of the break-up outweighs it. “You don’t even know me though, Taehyung. Not anymore.”

“No. You’re wrong,” Taehyung leans closer to you, and you take a step back. Your back bumps up against the sink, your plastic ornaments adorning your sweater clinking awkwardly.

Tae brushes a stray hair behind your ear, his eyes begging you to listen, “I do know you. I know that you still take your coffee black with caramel. I know that you started doing yoga but are too proud to admit you hate it. I know that you came to my art show last month but left before I could talk to you alone. I know that you–”

“Stop,” Your voice trembles, “Please, I can’t. Taehyung, you hurt me so fucking much. Don’t you get that? I just started feeling whole again. So if I let you back in and you hurt me, I might shatter completely.”

His hands cup your face gently, wiping away a tear you hadn’t even realized had fallen. “I won’t ever hurt you again, baby. Please give me one more chance. That’s all I need. I want to keep you forever, (y/n)... I bought you a ring, did I tell you that when I was drunk? I think I did. I still have it. It’s yours - just like my heart.”

“God, you’re still so fucking cheesy,” You can’t hold back your smile even though more tears are falling down your cheeks.

And then his lips are on yours.

Taehyung kisses you like you're the most precious thing in the universe. Like you might break in the palm of his hand if he’s not careful enough. And maybe you will. But for right now, you melt into him.

He tastes like home.

Taehyung’s touch is tentative at first. His hands slide into your hair, tugging you even closer. You feel like you might burst, feeling so many emotions. Love. Fear. Confusion. Hope. You hook your leg around him, wanting him pressed against you everywhere.

Taehyung groans and one of his hands drops down to grab your thigh, wrapping it more securely around his waist. “Jump, baby,” He mumbles into your lips, and you listen automatically.

He perches you on the edge of the sink, kisses you deeply, and then sinks back down to his knees.

“Tae–” You protest, as he runs his hands slowly up your calves.

“I haven’t tasted you in so long, baby,” His dark eyes burn into yours, “Please don’t let me go another minute without you on my tongue.”

Fuck. Well, you can’t argue with that. When Tae sees you open your legs a bit more, he grins up at you and places a quick kiss on the inside of your knee.

His touch becomes more frantic as he moves up, his mouth placing hot kisses higher and higher.

When he sees the lacy red panties you have on, he snaps, lunging forward and hitching your thigh over his shoulder. Pushing your underwear to the side, his hot mouth is on you, closing over your clit without warning. You gasp as he sucks your bud into his mouth, lapping at it with his tongue.

Your hand winds its way into his curls, pushing him harder against you. He moans into your pussy. “So fucking wet for me, baby. God, I love you.”

Taehyung places a soft kiss on your inner thigh before his tongue returns to lick at your pussy, up and down. His tongue sinks into you, making your hips buck against his face. His hand shoots up to steady you as his tongue continues to flick in and out of you.

The sight of the boy you never stopped loving tongue deep in your pussy almost pushes you over the edge already. “Ta-ae,” You moan, hand tugging at his hair, “Harder, baby, please.”

Your words have their desired effect as he replaces his tongue with two of his fingers and places his mouth back on your clit. You moan as his fingers curl inside you, brushing your walls.

The first few strokes of his fingers are slow. Too slow for your liking, “Taehyung, fuck me with your fingers.”

A rumble moves up his chest as he obeys, pushing another finger deep inside of you. “Fuck, baby,” He curses and begins to thrust his fingers in and out of your pussy, “You feel even better than I remember, so goddamn wet.”

His mouth finally returns to your clit, his tongue flicking over it every so often. You’re hurtling towards your orgasm as his long fingers continue to pound into you and his mouth continues to lick at your pussy.

You feel the heat building up and you come with a gasp. Taehyung continues to fuck you with his fingers and his mouth, carrying you through your orgasm until you slump back against the mirror above the sink.

Taehyung grins up at you, licking up everything you gave him. Finally, you gently push him off you. Still licking his fingers clean, Taehyung’s eyes sparkle up at you, “Well? Wanna get married?”

“Oh my god,” You burst out laughing, hopping off the sink onto shaky legs. “Why don’t you start by wooing me? We’ll go from there.”

“Challenge accepted.”

You blink.

Taehyung smiles. His wild dark curls are sticking up in random places - courtesy of your hands. His eyes are full of their usual sinful promises, but this time they also hold excitement and a tiny spark of hope. “Prepare to be wooed, wifey.”

“Fuck off,” You laugh, quickly fixing your hair in the mirror before smoothing down your sweater dress.

Nodding at your semi-acceptable reflection, you swing the door open to reveal just about every person from the party collectively gathered just outside.

“I knew it!” Seokjin shrieks. “Where’s my mistletoe?”

“My poor bathroom!” Jimin cries, “Defiled! Desecrated!”

“Why am I friends with you all?” Yoongi asks no one in particular.

“Well,” Tae whispers in your ear, “At least we won’t have to tell them, right?”

You smile despite the embarrassing situation and nod. This Christmas might just be your best yet.

a/n: sorry that this is late and severely unedited LOL plz be kind, this is my first fic back and YA GIRL IS RUSTY

© luxekook do not repost, edit or translate as protected under this license

[7spaceace7]

Ego Holiday Headcanons

Haven’t decided if I’ll make more after this, but here’s some festive headcanons for the Septic boys! (tagging as Yuletube for my submission for the past two missed days, hope that’s alright!)

Henrik Von Schneeplestein

-The host of the Septic Ego Holiday Celebration (est. 2017)

-STRESSED

-If he wasn’t stressed enough by being a doctor (and parent lmao), HE IS NOW

-Getting all the egos together for the holidays and making sure they DON’T kill each other?? Someone give this man an award

-Everyone keeping their limbs would be his only Christmas wish

-He does not get said Christmas wish (see: Robbie)

-Switches up his black coffee for coffee with peppermint creamer

-Chase eventually hooks him on peppermint tea instead, he knows the Doc needs sleep

-Can be found humming along to the Dance of the Sugarplum Fairy as he cooks holiday dinner

-Definitely has a “kiss the cook” apron

-Chase crossed out the “the” on it with “zhe” in sharpie

-Day 5, Schneep still hasn’t noticed

-Loves it, but still wears his doctor coat on top of it

-Gets very cold easily, so the fire is always burning

-Has a nutcracker collection

-It’s getting out of hand

Chase Brody

-Holidays are,,, hard for him

-Still sends his kids cards and presents, never actually knowing if they get them or not

-They do, I promise

-Wasn’t originally keen on celebrating with everyone, he has a tendency to self-isolate

-But once he gets there, he’s glad he did

-IMMEDIATELY tackled in a hug from Jackie

-”YOU’RE HERE!! Couldn’t start without you, dude!”

-Everyone else smiles and gives the appropriate hug

-(Anti does not, but no eye roll this time at least)

-Absolutely loves warm apple cider and has a good recipe to make his own

-Favorite Christmas movie is Elf, no I do not take criticism

-Has a soft spot for Mickey’s Once Upon A Christmas though because of his kids

-Holiday puns, you CANNOT get this man to shut up with the puns

- “Where’s Anti?” “Up to SNOW good! There’s SNOW way we can REIN him in now!”

-Once it snows, this boy is sledding down every hill in SIGHT

-Teaches Robbie how to catch snowflakes on his tongue

-Marvin makes him a “World’s Best Dad” sweater

-He totally cries and does not take it off the rest of the season

Jackieboy Man

-Christmas is his favorite holiday

-Good luck getting him to sit still around this time

-Has super strength, so he doesn’t quite have the same “don’t do that, you’ll hurt yourself” factor that everyone else does??

-Nearly giving Henrik a heart attack everytime he moves, but make it Festive™

-”Guys it’s snowing!!” “JACKIE GET ZHE FAHK OFF ZHE RAILING”

-Slides down the stairs anyway

-Marvin made him a whole ass “ugly supersuit” instead of just a sweater

-It is a w f u l, but on purpose

-Ofc Jackie adores the shit out of it

-Loves snowball fights!

-Always gets targeted by Anti tho

-Eventually it turns into a snowball war

-Pulls Chase over to tag team him, then discovers Marvin has an alliance with Anti

-They will be here a while

-Time to break out the reindeer-themed boxers

-They go along perfectly with his red and blue sweater-suit

-Eventually able to settle down when it gets dark out, bonus points if there’s hot chocolate involved (courtesy of JJ)

-Don’t forget the marshmallows

-Wants to help everybody out with their plans, always does his best

-Even if his best includes falling off a roof

Marvin the Magnificent

-Made everyone sweaters, even Anti

-Spent too much time on the design parts to make em perfect, so he had to rush getting them all sewn

-Uses his magic to sew like three at once

-December 1st, 12:00am is when the Christmas music starts

-Mariah Carey impressions that slowly get higher as the month goes on

-Performs a “Let It Go” rendition that could rival Idina’s during christmas karaoke night

-Switches his regular mask for his holiday one with snowflakes instead of card suits on it

-The decorating master, with JJ as his apprentice

-Favorite part is designing for the lights outside

-Learned a spell to make it look like it’s snowing inside

-Forgot to learn the spell to make it stop snowing inside

-Ended up just sticking with those paper snowflakes dangling on the ceiling

-Asks Jackie for help with the lights on the roof, not because he can’t easily do it himself, he just knows that Jackie likes to help and this is the one thing he knows he can’t break

-Did not expect Jackie to break himself by falling off the roof instead

-Ends up finishing the lights with his magic anyway (after he untangles his boyfriend from the lights, that is)

-Can and will destroy Jackie during snowball fights just because he can

Jameson Jackson

-THIS BOY oh this boy

-Brings out the classic holiday music and sets it up on the gramophone

-LOVES making up dances to the music

-May be a classic boy, but his guilty pleasure is Michael Buble

-(Robbie calls him bubbles whenever he comes on)

-Goes ALL OUT with the holiday baking

-Cookies of all kinds, homemade gingerbread for the houses, so many pies, even learns how to bake his own bread

-Everyone agrees that his pumpkin bread is the best

-Anti especially loves the cherry pie for “aesthetic purposes”

-Has a whole “Twas the Night Before Christmas” puppet show routine

-His job is making the decorations while Marvin sets them all up, it’s a great dynamic

-Definitely makes those traditional popcorn garlands for the tree

-for some reason puts an orange in his stocking?? The others are confused, but he’s so excited so they just let him do his thing

-Now everyone has oranges in their stockings

-They still don’t know what it means

Antisepticeye

-Die Hard is a Christmas movie, dammit!

- “Grinch Bitch” is what his sweater from Marvin says

-Secretly likes it, but fuck off

-Wears it to sleep every night in Winter

-You know that thing where cats get under Christmas trees and swat at the ornaments? Yeah that’s him

-Loves the white elephant gift game

-Ends up getting a present and it’s a turtle

-His name is knives

-KING OF SNOWBALL FIGHTS

-Fills his snowballs with fake blood so they explode on people

- (at least we hope its fake)

-If it doesn’t snow enough, he is the bitch who throws water balloons instead

-Henrik still has work leading up to Christmas, so Anti listens to him rant when he gets home

-Christmas patients are fuckin crazy and he loves it

-One time fell asleep and woke up with a red nose and antlers

-Chase was never safe after that

-Kept the antlers though, they jingle

-Saved them all from Chase’s puns that day

- “Where’s Anti?” *distant, staticky jingling* “Ah there he is”

Robbie the Zombie

-LIGHTS...pretty lights…

-He loves the lights, and will try to eat them if you’re not careful

-Says they’re static candy

-Doesn’t get cold because he can’t feel it, so he often wanders around in the snow

-One time he came home without his left foot and Schneep nearly had a heart attack

-Turns out it froze in the snow and snapped off his leg

-The Great Foot Search Party of 2020

-Please don’t forget to bundle this boy up before going out

-Anti has knitted him a hat and scarf for just this reason

-Henrik was the Proudest Dad that day

-Totally gets to put the star on the Christmas tree every year

-Marvin levitates him high enough

-Favorite holiday movie is The Polar Express

-One time JJ came out with his signature hot cocoa during the movie scene and Robbie was THRILLED

-Talking almost knocked him over thrilled

-Tries to sing along to holiday music, the lyrics don’t work out much

-Really good at keeping a beat though

-Marvin made him a sweater with bells on it

-Adores the bells, flaps the too long sleeves to make them jingle

Shawn Flynn

-Likes Christmas, but like lowkey

-He’s a toymaker!!! He makes adorable toys for all the egos as their presents from him!!

-Didn’t really have a family to go back to in his days at Joey Drew Studios, so he was used to spending Christmas alone, usually working

-NOT ANYMORE!

-Now he has Too Much Family (but in the good way)

-Absolutely gets nicknamed Scrooge at first, probably because he really likes A Christmas Carol and he’s a grump

-Often can be found being pulled off to dance by the gramophone with JJ

-He’s got two left feet, but JJ doesn’t really care

-If anyone still believes in Santa, even just a little bit, it’s because of him

-Has a giant red sack that he fills up with toys he’s made and/or the ones no one could sell back at the studios and donates them to orphanages

-Usually sticks to his old timey clothes, but when he does wear modern Christmas attire like the sweaters, he has,,,no idea how to match things

-It’s ‘cause he’s red/green colorblind

-once asked why Marvin had “yellow” hair

-JJ makes sure that his decorations have lots of blues so it’s not so much strain on his eyes

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

I have seen many, MANY discussions/debates about ca:cw and I have never seen anyone mentioning that Rhodey's injury was a metaphor. How did you get that idea?

Short answer: I’ve actually read a lot on the subject.  I’m teaching a media studies class right now called “What Can Superheroes Tell Us About Psychology?” (because that’s the kind of shit you can get away with at giant universities) and hoo boy are superhero narratives More Ableist Than Average.  Anywhoo, a few of those readings:

I’m quoting hard from the chapter “Hyper-Normative Heroes, Othered Villains: Differential Treatment of Disability in Marvel” in a book on disability studies because it’s free.  A relevant passage:

“These metaphorical portrayals all fail to engage with disability as a social category and as an individual identity, thereby ignoring its context… Nick Fury’s missing eye does not change his aim with distance weapons (e.g. Captain Marvel) or piloting software. Instead, it recurs in the films largely in metaphorical lines such as Fury’s commenting on the death of a friend with ‘I just lost my one good eye’… One character in Avengers even questions the lack of accessibility in Fury’s multi-monitor computer console, and Fury’s assistant simply answers that he must turn his head more often to compensate. The franchise thereby emphasizes that Fury’s missing eye is only a metaphor for his discernment and ability to see details that others have missed, rather than a truly integrated part of his character or even an accurate portrayal of that disability.

“8. This treatment of disability as metaphor persists throughout the MCU. In Captain America: Civil War, superhero War Machine incurs a permanent spinal injury while fighting on behalf of his best friend Iron Man. Later on, rival superhero Hawkeye… ‘You gotta watch your back with this guy. There’s a chance he’s gonna break it.’ The film then equips War Machine with a fantastical prosthesis that essentially nullifies his disabled experience through giving him the same range of motion as his non-disabled [abled] teammates, entirely without side effects or need for maintenance. The MCU films thus present disability as a metaphor for inner morality and characterization. War Machine has few experiences of being a disabled man through his spinal injury, but is instead emotionally ‘disabled’ by the damage to his social standing he has incurred through his friendship with Iron Man… The MCU thereby offers no critique of ableism or inaccessibility, instead continuing to localize disability as a problem with the body and the individual.”

Death, Disability, and the Superhero: The Silver Age and Beyond by José Alaniz is also a fantastic resource, and you can buy it for money here or hopefully find it at a library if you have no money.  A few of the relevant points from his book:

Superhero stories often treat disability as a “problem” that must be “solved” through in essence nullifying the disabled experience of the character(s) through superpowers that run directly counter to the disabilities and/or fantasy “cures,” e.g.

Daredevil is blind BUT navigates the world in a way similar to sighted people due to his “radar sense,” meaning that he doesn’t get to have a lot of the lived experiences of blind individuals

Don Blake is mobility impaired and uses a cane BUT his cane transforms into mjolnir and imbues him with the power of Thor, meaning that he spends most of the story moving like a nondisabled person

Hawkeye is hard of hearing sometimes in some of the comics, BUT he often gets magical cochlear implants from Tony Stark that cause him to stop being hard of hearing

Characters that are disabled and remain disabled tend to be villains whose villainy is either implied or stated to come directly from their bitterness over being disabled, e.g.

Doctor Doom hates that he’s scarred by an explosion so much that he wants to take over the world to get revenge on the Fantastic Four

The Lizard only transforms himself because he ignores all scientific and ethical boundaries in his desperation to stop being disabled

Doctor Poison is described by herself and other characters as a “monster” for failing to (unlike Wonder Woman) conform to White Western conceptualizations of female beauty 

Characters like The Thing, She-Hulk, and Bizarro have the potential for some really interesting disability narratives.  However, the same publication pressures that prevent permanent injury or death to the characters also prevent the inclusion of “serious” “real-world” issues like discrimination unless it’s metaphorical (e.g. anti-mutant fearmongering as a metaphor for anti-AIDS prejudice).

The Big Damn Foundational Text on the intersection of disability studies and media studies is Narrative Prosthesis: Disability and the Dependencies of Discourse by David T. Mitchell and Sharon L. Snyder, and you can pay money for it here but it’s also available at a lot of libraries.  Anyway, a couple of relevant points from that book include: 

Disability portrayals abound in literature going back to pretty much the dawn of history, but most of those portrayals suck ass because:

Most disabilities are treated as metaphors rather than demographic characteristics, which means that the disabled character doesn’t get connected to other people with disabilities (including those in the real world) and offers no commentary on ableism — if Richard III’s spinal misalignment is just a metaphor for him being “twisted” inside, it doesn’t allow readers with spinal misalignment to identify with him

Disabled characters tend to exist to teach lessons to nondisabled characters rather than having their own journeys — Tiny Tim isn’t a person in A Christmas Carol, he’s an object lesson for Scrooge

Many disabled characters either get “fixed” so that they look outwardly “normal,” or their “ugliness” is used to make concrete the abstract “ugliness” of their personalities

Disability is treated as a “problem” that demands an explanation – Captain Ahab’s prosthetic leg and Joker’s facial scarring are treated as automatically demanding the question “why are you like this?,” even though no one would ever ask the same thing of their nondisabled co-characters

Authors’ implicit ableism tends to come out in their horror of disability, such as when they portray disabled characters preferring death to disability, going to extreme lengths to avoid or nullify disability, and/or declaring themselves “worthless” or “burdensome” in light of disability

Discomfort with disability — another form of implicit ableism – also comes out when disabled characters are overwhelmingly “killed or cured,” meaning that they don’t get to end their stories as living individuals who are still, in practice, disabled

ANYWAY, that’s a long-winded way of saying that I also haven’t seen any critics specifically talk about Rhodey’s disability as a metaphor first and a part of the character second, but that that doesn’t mean the shoe don’t fit.  When someone asks about the Accords in Infinity War, Rhodey also says he supported them but then “I’m pretty sure I paid for that,” and gestures at his own paralyzed legs.  He also also says in Endgame “I wasn’t always like this… but we work with what we’ve got” when talking to Nebula, BOTH about the fact that he’s disabled and about the fact that half the universe is dead and they’re all struggling to cope with that fact.  It keeps getting used as a metaphor and keeps NOT getting used as a part of his identity.  LET THE MAN TALK TO SOME OTHER DISABLED VETERANS FOR TWO SECONDS, FOR FUCK’S SAKE.

A couple of other (free!) readings that talk about that general problem of “we love superheroes and we hate ableism, now what?” even if they don’t mention Rhodey specifically: 

“Reevaluating the Supercrip” by Sami Schalk connects media portrayals of the paralympics to media portrayals of Captain America and the Doom Patrol.  (I swear to god it makes sense in context.)

“Seven Roads to Justice for Superheroes and Humans” by Mikhail Lyubansky gets into the glaring (for me, anyway) question of “why the fuck are sci fi psychologists all so evil and useless?” by explaining why Harley Quinn must be evil for Batman to be a vigilante.

“Superhero Comics as Moral Pornography” by David A. Pizarro and Roy Baumeister (again, I swear it makes sense if you read it) discusses the evolutionary tendency to judge people based on disabilities and why it’s so popular in superhero stories specifically.

Anyway, you probably weren’t looking for an entire annotated bibliography in response to that question, but I’ve never been one to use five words when 500 would suffice.

[lachlann-macnab]

BDRP 2020 QUESTIONNAIRE

Your Name: Jean

Characters: Lachlann “Launchpad” MacNab

Pick one of your characters and talk about their growth. What about their story has surprised you? What are you proud of? How have they changed from their original inception to now?

Well, Launchpad is relatively new so he’s still pretty much the same as I envisioned him from the start-

-though I’ll admit that the idea of him having an enormous crush on Seamus/Scrooge was a surprise. I think it only took a couple of little chats with Sav and familiarizing myself with Seamus’ story for him to go “yes!! that’s the one I love!! let me at him!!”.

The funny thing is that it just kind of happened but also has a degree of canonicity to it; Granted, Ducktales ‘17 (the canon that got me into the Duckverse) didn’t delve a whole lot on the relationship those two have...but Ducktales ‘87 does and it’s fucking beautiful. 

But I didn’t know that! I was just familiar with the newest canon -exploring the relationship led me to the older canon and I absolutely love it! I love the way the older version of LP is equal parts silly and capable and I try my best to express that nice balance on my interpretation.

And I wouldn’t have found that sweet spot if it hadn’t been for Sav and Seamus!

Pick another character (or the same character if you only have one) and talk a little about where you WANT them to go. What are your plans for them going into the new year?

Oooh man, this is probably going to sound rude of me, but I want someone to call Launchpad out on his shit.

He is a happy-go-lucky man, he is positive, he does think the best of everyone right from the start, he is honest with that, but there’s also a degree of performativity to the way he interacts with people: he is a people pleaser and he’s also someone who avoids problems/confrotation when possible.

That leads to him having a hard time actually voicing what he thinks when things were serious. Launchpad will default to what he thinks is the most noble/the best option even if he actually hates it. He tries his best to be a reliable dude, but that pushes him to his limits every now and then -and he hates it, but will do it anyways.

I’d love for someone to notice that and point out his marthyr complex to him, or how hypocritical he can actually be when noone is looking. 

Jun did an amazing job at that, with the whole Moon Market incident and that is part of why I love his characterization and- I could rant about how Jun and LP are actually similar, yet different, but I won’t.

Someone please bitchslap my idiot son and tell him to be honest with his feelings, maybe get him to confront his feelings of inadequacy, maybe get him to actually face his problems instead of running away from them, kthanxs.

Pick a thread or a plot that you’re proud of and talk about why you loved it.

I have three threads I absolutely love, each for different reasons:

*Cleanliness is next to... with Jun: Jun called my idiot son out on his ‘noble man’ act. Jun was not impressed with his efforts and pushed him to an actual mini-meltdown because Launchpad didn’t know what to do or say to try and make things better: Launchpad is so used to having his way around people that the moment someone was inmune to all his tricks he...lost it. Big time. And I loved it.

*Untitled with Eilonwy: Both of them clicked instantly and- oh, man, I can’t really express what I feel about it, but:

Launchpad feels an actual, honest, connection to Eilonwy in various ways: both of them are a little bit weird, both of them are learning, both of them were kind of kicked out their comfort zones, both of them love adventure, both of them are fearless (in different ways), but there’s also a curious father-daughter dynamic to them. Eilonwy lacked not only a father figure but also a general actual caring adult one and I guess that’s part of what draws her to LP, while LP is a naturally caring man who also, (betweem the two of us), loves feeling like a good-ish role model instead of the dude people tell you to avoid because he’s an idiot, he loves looking out for people, he loves being understood -and Eilonwy, surprisingly, understands him without even trying. 

They are so very sweet, they just clicked and both of them learn new things with the other: both about themselves and the world. And I love it.    

*Dressed to the nines with Seamus: a.k.a “the one in which Sav let me go absolutely fucking ham”: It began with a chat about the need of gratious fanservice involving Seamus wearing (and getting out of) a suit -but soon became something else thanks to the Halloween task.

We soon got the ball rolling and Black Annis happened in a stupidly organic way (her very modus operandi, I discovered kind of late during the creation, ties way too well with the thread’s title itself and I’ll never get over it), and the mix of terror and action just naturally pushed the rest of the plot into the catharsis Seamus needed after all the stuff he’s been through.

The thread gave us the opportunity to write some mindless comedy, some yearning, some tenderness, plenty of gore, blood, trauma, legit PTSD, then back to tenderness and silliness -while also mentioning and showing a good deal of the things that have made Seamus the man he currently is, with the pretty and the ugly of it.  

I just think it was an amazing character exploration for both Seamus and Lachlann, and I enjoyed every bit of it. I love Sav’s writing, I love Seamus’ characterization, I love how naturally it all evolved, I love how Sav can casually bring something up while plotting and the thing just clicks into place, I love how we just kind of understand where things are going or where we want them to go. Sav’s just amazing at brainstorming and general writing and I feel really, really lucky to have the chance to write with her.

I have no choice but to stan, really.

 And I could go on and on about how the thread pushed both Seamus and Lachlann towards some big character development, but I really don’t want to rant -so I’ll leave it like this.

In terms of your own writing, identify 1-3 strengths and talk about why you think it’s one of your strengths.

Gee, that’s a difficult one. I guess my strongest suit as of now would be Launchpad’s voice as a character -and I’m not only talking about dialogue.

I think everyone that has read any of my threads has noticed by now that the flow of the narration is an extension of how Launchpad himself feels and thinks: it’s chaotic and emotional, it can get self-conscious and snarky when he, himself, can’t, it brings some exposition while not breaking the simple, chaotic rythm of Launchpad per-se.

In terms of your own writing, identify 1-3 areas of improvement.

This is way easier for me to pinpoint, hah! I definitely need to work on the length of my posts: I know seeing paragraphs upon paragraphs upon paragraphs can make people tired or make them feel intimidated to interact. 

I also need to work on organizing Launchpad’s chaotic thoughts. The narration does get long-winded and sometimes the progression from point A to point B is way too chaotic -so much so that actually erasing it all would make no impact on the overall narration. 

Pick one of your plots, or even just a character, and come up with a list of 3-5 “mentor texts” where you can look for inspiration or research, then write a short (2-4 sentences) why you picked those texts. 

Not texts per-se, but I think a good way to get a feel of Launchpad’s general vibe is to watch “Top Duck” from Ducktales ‘87 and/or “The Duck Knight Returns” and “Double-o-duck in: You only crash twice”; Those episodes do an amazing job in expressing his insecurities and passions.

Now, leaving the source material behind, I think a book he resonates with is “Oh, the Places You'll Go!” by Dr. Seuss -it’s fun, it’s simple and it has an overall heartwarming message: It kind of captures that sense of wonder, discovery and positivity Launchpad both has and wishes to offer other people. 

Another inspiration of sorts for Launchpad is Ferry’s “Parties are for losers” series: First of all, I’ll admit I’m a sucker for the Strugatsky brothers and СТАЛКЕР, so it’s no surprise I’m in love with Ferry’s interpretation of the story; I see a little bit of LP in KT’s story, but also in Yura’s and, surprisingly, in Olga’s. 

PAFL’s setting is different, yet similar, to the Soviet sci-fi original: it deals with some disenchantment, it’s far from idealistic, it’s rough, but it’s also full of wonder and adventure: there’s big risks, but there’s also a good deal of things that make things, if not better, a little bit less miserable for the characters -and sometimes that something that keeps them going is other’s presence. PAFL is, for me, the inspiration for adventures that aren’t always glamourous, simple, or happy, taken by characters that are far from perfect, that have the odds against them, that carry a whole lot of baggage and, yet, prevail.

And, finally, a last inspiration for Launchpad, my lovable idiot son, comes from probably the place one would expect the least: God of War (2018).

I’m also a sucker for God of War, sue me.  

I know it may seem bizare, but the message of the game just clicks with LP -and before you start wondering how in hell Kratos could possibly inspire Launchpad just let me tell you: he doesn’t. Because it’s not about Kratos I’m refering to when I talk about that story! I’m actually thinking of Mimir!

I love him so much.

Mimir’s role on the game is multifacetic: he brings exposition and ocasional comedic relief, sure, but I see him as the heart of the interactions between Kratos and Atreus (Kratos’ son, for those who may not know). Kratos is emotionally repressed and keeps to himself a lot while Atreus is a bundle of joy, energy, curiosity and someone that doesn’t think ‘because I say so’ is a valid answer to things; Kratos and Atreus clash during the first part of the game even when they love one another in their very particular ways.

In comes Mimir.

Mimir(’s head) joins the party and takes upon himself to act as a bridge between emotional distant father and young naive fearless son and...things start working for the three of them! Kratos starts understanding Atreus! Atreus slowly understands his father’s worries and needs! They begin the story as (almost) complete strangers but by the end they have an actual bond thanks to Mimir’s constant pushing and interventions: Mimir is soft with Atreus but bold with Kratos, the man knows when to joke and throw some riské comments for the chaos of it, but he’s also the first to offer words of comfort and understanding. 

The man becomes part of the family even when he isn’t related to them by blood, even going so far as to give a ‘no, take me instead!’ when presented with the opportunity by a pair of enemies, even when his whole story tells us that he thinks of the idea of dealing with those people (won’t say who, because spoilers) as worse than death -the man hates the mere idea of going back but doesn’t hesitate a second to offer himself as a sacrifice for his new family.

And, damn, that’s what I base my interpretation of Launchpad on. He’s not a part of the family per-se but he constantly acts as a bridge between the youngest and more idealistic parts of it and the jaded, older, tired one; He’s happy to be comedic relief but will also sit and give anyone a pep talk when absolutely necessary -he knows his limitations but keeps trying and offering his best for those he cares about. He tries to be the heart.

I’m emotional about a disembodied head, don’t touch me. Play God of War (2018), it’s fucking amazing.

And now, a wishlist!: 

I’m...actually up for everything and anything, really. I’d love some adventures, but I also love the more mundane interactions, I love the heavier topics but also the silly moments. 

I guess, as I said before, the one thing I’d really love is for someone to push Launchpad to be honest about his feelings. Also a plot about him either considering to or actually flying again -those, however, will happen in due time and I have no rush to make ‘em.

Why do you RP?

Short explanation?: I love writing and reading.

Longer explanation?: I love writing and reading, I love complex characterizations, I love exploring new ideas and seeing how little plot bunnies become full fledged plots and/or character explorations or bring some character development, I love how that creates a domino effect with the rest of the cast. I love to see things happen: I love watching from afar as other’s characters learn lessons, create and conect-

-also, I write and read all day, everyday: that’s my job. I do script revisionism and organizational comunication. During work hours I have to check the flow of words, tones, and overall intentions; I have to do my best to make sure someone’s idea fits the box, but RPing gives me the opportunity to take the box and toss it out of the window. RPing gives me the chance to write freely, to write silly, to be imperfect and not worry about going from A to B or dealing with a checklist or tones, intentions or other’s ideas. 

It’s just freeing. And that’s why I do (and love) it.

[hattywatch]

J. Vesey - Cups of Christmas Cheer

A/N: I am a Jimmy Blog. I’ve accepted it. I embrace it. Merry fuckin’ Christmas.

#2, 4 10, 22  2. “That’s the eggnog talking. I’m cutting you off.” 4. “Don’t be such a Scrooge.” 10. “Tis the season for sharing feelings, I guess.” 22. “How much sugar have you had?”

Every. Single. Year. 

You always tell yourself, as soon as you get home from these stupid things that it’s the last one. You wouldn’t be caught dead at another. 

Yet, here you are again, clad in an ugly sweater and snaking your way through the room of people entirely too advanced in age to be as absolutely smashed as they are. 

“Y/N!” You’re not sure if the shrill voice is your mother, or your aunt, they both sound alike after they’ve had a few glasses of champagne. Your dad catches your eye, winces and shakes his head in a little apology. 

“Hey guys, sorry I’m late. Traffic was a bitc-,” your mother pins you with a look that even in her tipsy state has you blushing at your choice of words, “Traffic was crappy.” She smiles as you alter your vocabulary for her, pleased you remembered your manners. 

“No problem at all, honey. You don’t have to hang out in here with the old folks this year! Some of the cousins and kids could make it this year.” You wrinkle your nose; you’re well into your twenties and not sure if she has forgotten. “Go into the den, I think they were about to start a game or something.” Nodding, you accept the glass of eggnog your mother pours for you and drop your coat and scarf over the chair in the kitchen before making your way through the crush of people into the den.

It’s calmer in there, the house party your mother was happily hosting in the front end of the house doesn’t affect the calm of the den, tucked all the way in the back of the house behind a set of french doors.

This is more your speed. You close the door behind you and the loud Christmas music from your mom’s party is barely audible and you’re eternally grateful. A few of your cousins wave hello and you recognize various other people lounging on the plush couches and recliners that dot the room. You’re hardly a group of “kids,” as your mother put it, everyone well into their 20s. 

Walking around the room, you say your hellos as your older cousin, Jason, sets his santa hat on the corner of the TV. “So, I’ll put on an episode of The Office or something we can all agree on,” he starts explaining, “and every time someone’s head lines up  with the hat and it looks like they’re wearing it, we all take a drink. Cool? Easy enough?” Everyone agrees, and it looks like only a few of the cousins have a wine or beer, some are just casually sipping unspiked-eggnog like yourself, probably stuck driving their parents home later. 

Finally you get to Jimmy. His mom and your mom work together and you've seen him and his siblings around for years. They're friendly with your family, but it's not like you seek each other out. There’s only one seat left, unless you want to sit on the floor, and it’s next to Jimmy. 

“Can I sit here, Jim,” you ask, but you’re already starting to sit. He sips from his drink, it also looks like eggnog. 

“Didn’t really give me much of a choice there. Where’s my girl gunna sit?” You move to stand, getting a little red-faced and flustered. 

“Oh, shit. I’m sorry. I didn’t kno-,” you stammer through something resembling a sentence.

He laughs and pats the cushion you just vacated.  “I’m just fucking with you.” He looks so smug and sure of himself as you sit back down, still grinning his little smile. 

“Yeah you’d like to, wouldn’t you?” You’re hoping to make him red and stammery. He’s made you feel that way a few times in the past. You’ve haven’t sought him out, but it’s not to say he isn’t cute enough to catch your eye at events like this, quick witted and soft spoken, whispering smart comments under his breath making you laugh. One friend said it’s lack of options, you think the term she used is “office hot," but you know better.  

He jerks his head towards you, eyebrow raised, ““That’s the eggnog talking. I’m cutting you off.” It isn’t quite blushing and befuddled, but you’ll take it. 

“Sorry, Jim. It’s virgin,” you swirl the nog around in the glass before taking a sip and settle back into the couch to watch the show. 

“Must be the sugar then; how much sugar have you had?” Kicking his foot, you ignore the question. 

Jason points at the TV as Michael yells at Toby, hat sitting perfectly on his head. You elbow Jimmy. “Drink!” 

He elbows you back, “I’m not playing. I don’t need an excuse to drink a beer.” He taps his bottle against your glass. 

“Aw, c’mon. Don’t be such a Scrooge!” You raise your glass and drink, to show him you’re playing, even without a beer. He rolls his eyes, but wraps his lips around the bottle and takes a swig, staring at you while he does. 

After the second episode people are starting to faction off into groups and chat. You take the chance to grab a water bottle from the fridge and spot a bottle of the beer Jimmy was drinking, so you grab that too. 

As you get back to the den, a few of your cousins walk past the opposite direction and say their goodbyes, before they start rounding up their parents- or attempt to anyway. By the time you make it back into the den there's only a few stragglers. Your cousin and her fiance standing in the corner talking to your neighbor's son, and two younger cousins sat on the floor in front of the TV trying to figure out how to hook up your brother's old Nintendo. 

You stop in the doorway since Jimmy is walking towards you. He smiles when he sees the beer and stops next to you, taking it from your hand and twisting open the top. 

"For me? Didn't know you cared." You didn't really know either, but maybe something about the magic of Christmas might be hitting you in the chest- it may also be his dorky Game of Thrones ugly sweater. 

You shrug up at him, catching a glimpse of the sprig of waxy leaves and white berries above his head. 

"Fuck." He follows your line of sight and looks up. 

"Ouch. I'm not that hideous, am I?" He takes a sip of his beer to hide the grimace that cracked through his always-calm facade. It sends you stuttering again. 

"Jim- no, not even. I just didn't want to assume- I didn't want to make you uncomforta-" he smirks, left side of his mouth pulling into his cheek. 

“I’m just fucking with you.” He repeats it so smoothly. 

You can't help yourself, “Yeah you’d like to, wouldn’t you?” Only half kidding, you're hopeful he takes the bait. 

The cold beer against your back before you can blink, his arms wrap around you and his mouth slides over yours. He pulls the breath from your lungs and you could slap your friend for even suggesting he's not smoking hot. 

It feels too quiet and you pull back from Jimmy, a little dizzy, and catch five pairs of eyes on you. 

He feels you tense under his arms and pulls you towards the kitchen, away from the gaping mouths in the den. "We should go for a walk. Seems we have a lot to talk about." 

Nodding, you shrug on your jacket and take his outstretched hand, following him out along the front path lined with bright white Christmas lights, twinkling happily. 

"Have to say, I didn't expect that." You squeeze his hand to let him know it wasn't a bad surprise. You'd be amiable to it happening again, frequently, in fact.

He tucks your hand into his jacket pocket, still wrapped up in his own, “Tis the season for sharing feelings, I guess," smiling down at you he leans over and plants another one on your cheek. 

Maybe mom's parties aren't so bad.

[mukwooyoung]

Mistletoe

@akitokihojo and I decided to do a Christmas thing. SO, here is Inuyasha’s POV! 

I hope everyone here is ready for some confused and pining Inu.  If you want to read Kagome’s POV, it can be found over on Angie’s blog! (also shoutout to Angie for fixing mistakes you’re a blessing farewell)

Inuyasha

Putting up the Christmas tree shouldn’t have been as hard as Miroku was making it out to be. Inuyasha's job was to hold the tree up straight, and Miroku's was to put it into the base. Sounds easy enough, right? Wrong. Miroku was clearly struggling, and Inuyasha was growing annoyed. His ear flickered toward where Kagome and Sango sat, the young woman beside his best friend laughing and pouring herself a glass of wine, obviously watching their scuffle and finding it a little too humorous.

Miroku had the idea to bring a group of friends off to his uncle’s cabin in the middle of nowhere for their Winter holidays; a semi-creepy shack in the woods sort of setting, if you will. Inuyasha was never one for much holiday festivity, but he figured getting away for a few days wouldn't hurt. When his coworker first brought up the proposal for his Christmas venture, he was, of course, iffy. He had promised, at least for the weekend, no more set ups, no more schemes, and there would be more than just the usual four of them, ultimately getting Inuyasha on board with the plan. Low and behold, Miroku had successfully dragged them all off to a remote cabin in the middle of the mountainous nowhere they were now settled in, a place where most horror movies may or may not take place, and it was just the four of them. The snow that had been falling was surprisingly keeping his mood lifted, even as he was with the one person he couldn’t keep off his mind no matter how hard he tried. Kagome Higurashi. 

He first met Kagome when his traitor of a best friend, Sango, decided to set him up on a date. A blind date. She invited him to a restaurant for dinner, and who was he to ever turn down his friend? He showed up, not surprised in the least to see Miroku sitting next to Sango, but was definitely startled when he saw the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on sitting across from the couple. It didn’t take long after getting there to put two-and-two together and see what was going on. While the girl was gorgeous, that thought immediately became irrelevant considering the irritation displayed on both of their faces, and Inuyasha absolutely minded Sango throwing him into a blind date. The last date Sango set him up on had turned into a total disaster, and he swore to never let her do it again. But, this Kagome girl had a hell of a mouth on her that she put on full display when their friends' intentions became loud and clear, and it did something to his heart that he did not and still doesn’t fully understand. He couldn’t very well let his best friend and the guy she’s dating know that he may sort of be attracted to this girl now, could he? That would make it too easy for them, and he'd be damned if he gave them that courtesy after the shit they'd pulled. He and Kagome had made an unspoken agreement then; they could never like each other. 

Miroku and Sango had eventually become more subtle in their attempts to get the two together, but anyone could tell that they wouldn’t be backing off anytime soon. All he and Kagome had to do were show that they are just friends and nothing more, hopefully convincing them in the long run. Inuyasha will be the first to admit he’s not the easiest person to get along with. It made hanging out with new people awkward at times, but Kagome seemed to fill in the gaps he couldn't and made it feel surprisingly easy. Even enjoyable. She wouldn’t force conversation, and seemed to understand that silence was actually okay between people. 

“There. Your damn tree is up. Now make yourselves useful and decorate the thing.” He huffed, wiping away the pine bristles from his shirt. 

Sango let out a high-pitched screech and Inuyasha pinned his ears back along his head to briefly block it out. She rushed over to the bag of decorations they bought, and emptied one out onto the carpet. Kagome joined her, sliding her feet across the wooden floor and turning up the Christmas music on her way. He knows he shouldn’t find the way she slides across the floor like that as cute as he does. He shouldn’t be thinking like that in general. At least not with the infamous couple in the room. He swears Sango could read his every thought sometimes, and he does not need her knowing how attracted to Kagome he actually is. 

“The tree is hardly straight.” 

Yeah, okay, that’s his fault.

“It’s as straight as it’s gonna get.” Miroku replied, propping his hands on his hips. 

“You guy’s are going to help decorate, right?” Sango asked, letting the lights dangle from her fingers. 

“Fat chance!” Inuyasha snorted, falling onto the loveseat behind Kagome, catching a small whiff of the sweet perfume she always wore. “We did the hard part.”

“What a scrooge.” Sango quickly shot a sneer in his direction. 

“You don’t want them decorating the tree, Sango.” Kagome started as she helped wrap the lights around. “They’d somehow manage to make it ugly.” 

“Rude.” Miroku tossed an empty water bottle towards Kagome, barely hitting her. She giggled, kicking it away, and carried on decorating with Sango. Using the hearth of the fireplace as leverage, Kagome balanced on her tiptoes to reach towards the top of the tree to place the lights, her lack of height hindering her attempts.

“Alright, move over.” He said, reaching for the wire in her hand. He looked down at her, waiting for her to hand it over. Kagome’s eyes met his, and he heard a feeble catch of breath, almost distracting him from what he came over to do. He brushed the back of her hand with his fingers, gently pushing her out of the way,  “I –uh…I can get it.”

He’ll pretend he didn’t notice the way her cheeks flushed as she thanked him and moved aside. 

Sango made her way around the tree after stringing her lights, looking over at Kagome and then back at him with a smile. “What was that?”

Inuyasha grunted, “What was what?”

“That?” She pointed between him and Kagome, “That was a moment.”

Inuyasha rolled his eyes, setting the lights at the top of the tree and sending a twisted stare toward his friend. She and Miroku were always looking for something. Anytime Kagome and he did anything, one of them chalks it up to be something else. Kagome wasn’t tall enough to reach, he saw the struggle, he _helped, _and this is the thanks he gets. 

“It wasn’t a moment. I was helping her, and also you. You're welcome.” He reached for another ornament, passing it off to Sango before picking up one of his own, “There is absolutely nothing going on between Kagome and I.”

“I'm not blind, Inuyasha.” 

“Neither am I.” He glanced to Sango, raising an eyebrow. “Didn’t you say there would be more people here?” 

“Did I say that?” 

“Yeah, I'm pretty sure you did.” 

Sango hummed, tapping a finger against her chin before shrugging. “Guess we forgot to invite them. Oops.” 

“Sango.” 

“Hm?” 

“You did it again, didn’t you?” 

“Possibly.” 

Inuyasha growled, turning away from his friend. “You’re the fucking worst.” 

Sango was notorious for meddling in his life; more specifically, his love life. The one and only time Inuyasha had let her set him up on a blind date was with a girl named Kikyo, and it was a mistake he refused to relive. It was the single worst date he had ever been on. Sango had talked Kikyo up, made her sound like the best person in the world, and like she’d be perfect for him. Downfall: she failed to mention to Kikyo that he was a half demon. Granted, that part isn't entirely Sango's fault; she never really thinks anything of his demonic status. Never has. Kikyo, though, had her own set of preferences and made it clear that she never planned on dating one. Yet, there she was. Sitting across from him at the table, a grimace marring her face the entire time. They hardly spoke a word throughout the almost-laughable, painfully awkward evening, and it was the date that showed him Sango could not be trusted in any department regarding romance.

“You’re thinking about Kikyo, aren’t you?” Sango’s voice had taken on that dangerous tone that he was all too familiar with. How did she always know what he was thinking? 

“Not technically. I was thinking about how you set me up with her and how awful that turned out to be.” 

Sango huffed, “It wasn’t that bad.”

“You weren’t there.” 

“That’s irrelevant now,” Sango waved her hand dismissively. "What you should be concentrating on is that you and Kagome would actually be good together. She’s really a good person, Inuyasha.”

Kagome is everything he isn’t. She’s outgoing, compassionate, and feisty. She doesn’t hesitate to speak her mind, and that’s something Inuyasha will never admit to liking aloud. He, on the other hand, has always been more of a loner. Sango has been his friend since they were kids, and no matter how many times she tried, their small group never expanded. Inuyasha had met Miroku at the elementary school they both teach at and the guy just stuck around, despite Inuyasha’s attitude towards him wanting to date his best friend, or his attitude towards him in general. It’s because of Miroku that Inuyasha and Sango met Kagome in the first place, so the guy can’t be all that bad if Kagome's been his best friend for years.

“I know she’s a good person.” Inuyasha said quietly, staring down at the ornament he was holding. “What if she turns out like Kikyo?” 

“Don’t say that. Kagome is the nicest person I have ever met. I learned my lesson after Kikyo, and if I didn’t think Kagome was good for you, I honestly wouldn’t even try. Miroku wouldn’t try. We just want you both to be happy.”

“So, what are you planning?” 

Sango gasped, feigning offense. “Me? Planning something? Never.” Inuyasha gave her an unamused look and she sighed defeatedly. “Alright, Miroku plans to have us leave you two alone together tomorrow.” 

“What? Sango! You can’t do that!” 

A shout from Miroku and the sound of a bottle hitting the counter caught their attention as they looked over, both raising an eyebrow at their friends in the kitchen.

“Just some friendly banter. Nothing to worry about. Turns out I’m smarter than Kagome.” Miroku beamed, grinning their way.

“Yeah, okay.” Sango snorted, turning her attention to the ornament in her hand. 

“Sango.” Inuyasha hissed, taking the glittery, green orb from her grasp as soon as Miroku and Kagome absorbed themselves in their conversation once more. “You can’t leave us alone tomorrow.” 

“I’ve been working on that ornament for forever, give it back.” 

“Stop avoiding the subject.” 

Inuyasha handed the ornament over to her, watching as she hooked it and reached for the tree. She side glanced him, avoiding full eye contact, before sighing. “We’re literally just going to be leaving you two for an hour at the most. It won’t be that bad. You've been alone with her, right?”

“Not often, but yeah.”

“Then you'll be fine.” 

“Sango, you really shouldn’t -“ 

“Miroku!” Sango called, cutting their argument off at the knees, and rushing over to the island where Miroku and Kagome stood, taking a hold of his arm and pulling him to the open area behind the couches. “I love this song, babe. Dance with me?”

Inuyasha watched his friend as she wrapped her arms around Miroku’s neck. Miroku isn’t a bad guy, really. If he was, Inuyasha would have put up more of a fight when Sango mentioned she was interested. He trusts him with Sango, and he knows Miroku will always take care of her. As long as Sango is happy, that’s all that matters. 

He pulled his phone out of his back pocket, choosing to scroll through his neglected notifications. He didn’t have much; a text from Sesshomaru telling him to babysit Rin when his trip was over, a couple emails from coworkers; nothing of importance. He scrolled through old alerts he chose to keep, anything to keep himself busy so he wouldn’t have to watch the couple, and anything to keep his mind off the conversation he'd just had with Sango. 

Kagome walked over and Inuyasha watched her as she picked up some ornaments, turning to the tree to place them. “Is Christmas your favorite holiday?” He asked, locking his phone and sliding it back into his pocket. 

Her brown eyes met his while she answered, “Yeah. Ever since I was a kid.” She looked away from him and to the tree. He only felt a little disappointed by that. “Is it yours?” 

“Feh. I don’t have a favorite holiday. They’re all cheesy.” He took a few steps back to lean against the bricks that makeup the fireplace. 

“Oh, come on. Not one?” 

“Anything that gets me out of work, I guess.” 

“So, almost all of them.” She giggled. 

Why does he like the sound so much? 

His attention wandered over to the couple dancing. Seeing his best friend, someone he considers a sister, groped is something he definitely hated seeing. And he really, really did not need to hear her giggling like that.

He groaned, grabbing the nearest couch cushion and chucking it at his friends with plenty of force, “Knock it off! That’s disgusting!”

“Get a room, you say?” 

Inuyasha rolled his eyes. “No one said that.” 

“We can take a hint. Come on, Sango!” Miroku pulled his girlfriend down the hall and towards the master bedroom before slamming the door shut. 

Inuyasha frowned, still staring down the hall. He was thankful that Kagome had made the move to turn up the music before shifting her attention to clean up the cabin. He could help her, should help her; it held the potential to keep his mind from Miroku defiling his best friend. Instead, he chose to go outside and get some much needed air. 

He walked down the front porch, heading a little ways out into the snow and sticking his hands in his front pockets. A part of him knows he shouldn’t be so annoyed by the couple running off like that, but the other, less rational part of him will always be protective of Sango. He grew up with her, always looked out for her, and that’s not something that's going to stop just because they’re well into their adult years. It probably should, though. Sango has Miroku, and he knows Miroku would do anything to keep her safe. 

The sound of the cabin door opening had him turning around, seeing Kagome walking out with a jacket clutched in her hands. “What are you doing out here? It’s freezing.” She was slowly stepping down the front porch so as not to fall, wearing only a beanie to keep her ears warm and the light sweater she’d been donning all day. 

Inuyasha made his way back towards the porch, the snow crunching under his feet. He didn’t miss the way she was fighting off the cold. 

“I could ask you the same thing.” She smiled, hugging herself a little tighter, “I wanted to make sure you were okay, and bring you your jacket.”

Inuyasha could kiss her with how close they stood, and how quickly her lips had turned a darker shade of pink from the engulfing chill in the air, attracting almost all of his attention. If he wasn’t already fighting off the feelings he has for her, and if he knew she might feel the same, his self control might not exist. 

“I’ve got demon blood. I’m fine. You, on the other hand..” Inuyasha took the jacket that she was offering to him, wrapping it around her shoulders, “Should be inside.” 

He adjusted the coat that nearly swallowed her, meeting her gaze as he held it shut to keep some of the warmth in. He watched as snow fell, catching onto her dark hair. She tilted her head upwards, letting the snow land against her face. Inuyasha stared at her, taking in how peaceful she looked. He’d never seen anyone more gorgeous. 

“It’s so beautiful.” She whispered, grinning happily. 

The cliche move would have been to quietly mention _"_yeah, you are," but he bit his tongue. Literally. Fighting off the impulse that surprisingly came to mind. Inuyasha took a small step back from her just as he could feel his face grow hot. 

“Here, your coat.”

He shook his head, looking away from Kagome so she wouldn't pick up on anything. He could only hope he was nothing like Sango who never missed a beat. “Keep it.”

“No really, I just wanted to bring it out to you.” He could feel her eyes lingering on him, almost as if she were studying him as she fell quiet for a moment. “Didn’t uh… Didn’t..” Inuyasha glanced down at her, cocking an eyebrow skeptically as he waited. “Didn’t want you getting sick on Christmas.” 

“I don’t think I’m the one we should be worrying about.” He smirked, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re shivering, Kagome. Get inside.”

Kagome removed the jacket from her shoulders, giving a slow nod and biting her lip, his stomach responding with a rush of fluttered heat. He really shouldn’t like that as much as he does. He took the coat, their fingers brushing, and Kagome smiled up at him before turning and heading back towards the cabin. 

Inuyasha had been awake since around six that morning. Initially, he had woken up at five on the dot, but refused to face the day yet, managing to get at least forty-five minutes of more sleep. It’s his vacation damn it, his internal alarm shouldn't even be activated. He accepted his awakened state when his body refused to cooperate any further, staying in bed and opting to scroll through his phone. Anything sounded better than getting up at the crack of dawn. Inuyasha had thought ahead to bring his briefcase to stay on top of grading, but he was too lazy to lug himself out from under the thick comforter, the heavy snow and frost along his open-curtain window giving him further motivation to stay put. 

After hours of mindless social media that he hardly ever checked on, and occasional staring at the flat ceiling while listening to the creaks of the cabin as it settled against the wind, Inuyasha reluctantly slid the blankets off him and peeled himself from the mattress, heading to the opened suitcase on the opposite side of the room to shift through the messily-packed clothes. Soft footsteps lightly patted against the wood flooring from a room down the hall, and he pulled the thick, black sweater over his white undershirt a little hastier than intended, throwing his long, white hair into his signature ponytail to keep it as neat as possible and out of his face. Miroku and Sango were probably still in bed from what he could hear, or couldn't in this case, and he couldn't help but want to use the opportunity to be alone with Kagome without coercion or prying glances from the manipulative couple.

The squeak from a door opening caught his ear, and he paid close attention to the footsteps sliding down the hall and passing his room, the familiar and fresh scent of Kagome's vanilla body spray wafting through the cracks of his sealed doorway. He opened his door silently, following her path out into the living room, not missing the way she hadn’t seemed to notice him coming. 

“Morning.” He brushed passed her on the way to the kitchen. “Coffee?” 

“Yes, please.” She paused a small moment, and he assumed she had returned her attention back to her phone. “Uh, it’s snowing.” 

“It’s been snowing.” He remarked. Was this Kagome’s version of small talk? Inuyasha scooped coffee grounds into the filter, not knowing in the least if he was preparing the right amount.

“Right. No, I meant harder. A lot harder. Looks like we’re in for a bit of a storm.” Kagome walked passed him in the kitchen, heading towards the fridge and pulling out the three creamers they had ridiculously purchased on their group trip to the grocery store on their way up. 

“That’ll be fun. Money down that Miroku complains about it all day.”

Kagome laughed, and Inuyasha noticed how simple everything felt around her. When there was no pushing or shoving to get them in a room together, it was clear to see that it had the potential to almost be enjoyable. If he had to endure Miroku’s bitching all day as a compromise to avoid the planned scheme, he’d willingly accept it.

“Well good morning, you two.” Miroku greeted, leaning against the framing of the kitchen. “Just like I left you. Did you two even sleep, or…”

“Ah, geez. Would you shut up?” He tossed the filter into its respected spot in the machine, hitting the brew button and shooting a glare over to Miroku as he leaned against the counter. 

“Different clothes though, hm…” Miroku rubbed at his chin, looking over the two of them. “Slightly disappointing.” 

“Well, this got uncomfortable quickly. Guess I’ll be going.” Kagome walked by him in an attempt to escape the kitchen, but Miroku stopped her before she could get very far. 

“Okay, I’m sorry! I’ll be good. Nothing else. Hi.” He kissed her cheek, placing her back in her spot next to the counter. He reached into the cupboard, taking out four mugs and setting them out for everyone. “Chris Pine’s looking sharp over there.”

This was a joke, right? Did he just kiss her? Isn’t he dating Sango? Wasn’t he the one trying to set them up together? What would possess him to kiss Kagome like that? Who the hell was Chris Pine?

“Wh- you named the tree?” Kagome didn’t sound as muddled as he clearly felt, but she’d also been putting up with Miroku for years. Maybe she’d built up some sort of resilience to his dumb ass antics.

“Even trees need names, Kagome.”

“What a nerd. Go finish decorating it.” She joked, taking the purple mug from Miroku’s hand. 

“Okay guys, what are we doing today?” Sango joined, calling out to them over her shoulder and rubbing her hands together, the universal sign for being cold, heading over to the thermostat to turn the temperature up. 

“Nothing.” Inuyasha said, enunciating the two syllables as if proving a point, shooting his best friend an arrogant grin. “Didn’t you look outside, Sango?” 

“It’s just a little snow.” She waved him off and pulled her fingers into her sweater sleeves. “Let’s go sledding!”

“What? No! There’s a weather advisory, dummy! You can hardly see ten feet in front of you.”

“That’ll pass!” She dismissed, walking to the island beside Kagome and claiming an old-looking, ceramic mug.

“Actually, it’s only supposed to get worse.” Kagome stated.

“Thus the advisory.” Inuyasha rubbed in, pouring himself a piping hot cup of coffee before evacuating the crowded kitchen.

“What? No way! I didn’t know this.” Miroku whined, his shoulders slumping dramatically.

“Yup. Too bad.” Kagome shrugged. “Looks like we’ll all be staying in today. I brought some board games we could play!” 

“And you called me a nerd.” Miroku murmured, looking away from Kagome and sliding over to get some coffee. 

“Alright, I’m calling it!” Miroku announced, “It was Miss Scarlet, in the library, with the revolver!” 

“Wrong.” Inuyasha objected, not bothering to look away from the essay he was reading as he lounged on the loveseat behind Sango, his fist propping his chin up while he attempted to ignore his friends playing Clue. Miroku snatched the yellow envelope from the center of the game board, opening the flap and taking the cards out. 

“You chose not to play, so you stay out of th- son of a bitch!” 

“Wrong?” Kagome asked, feigning sympathy. 

“Shut up.” Miroku rolled his eyes, returning the cards to the envelope before dropping it back to its place on the board. The girls began laughing at his expense, Kagome falling back from their makeshift table as her giggling grew harder. He stood, stomping his way to the kitchen, “It’s not even that funny!”

“Yes it is! You were so smug!” Sango laughed, “Oh, don’t be mad!” She stood, using the edge of the loveseat to regain some balance, rushing to the kitchen to chase after Miroku, and disappearing behind the couch and out of Inuyasha’s view. Kagome gave another small giggle, his ear unconsciously flicking in her direction. 

Inuyasha felt Kagome’s eyes on him as he flipped the page of the essay he was reading, hearing her scoot a little closer in his direction as he pretended he didn’t notice, continuing on to read the sloppily-written paragraph.

“Can I ask you a question?” Her voice was soft. Curious. Inuyasha glanced at her from around the paper he was holding, slightly raising an eyebrow in response. “Your ears… they-“

“What about them?” Inuyasha questioned. He knows he came off defensive,** **mostly unintentionally of course, but he was never too fond of his demonic traits being brought up in conversation; casual or not.

“Well - and I hope you don’t mind my asking - but can you hear things that are far off?” 

“Yeah, I guess. Why?” He lowered the essay, his brows furrowing in skepticism. 

“Is that why they do that flicking thing?”

“Shit!”  Miroku coughed, choking on his drink as he fought back a fit of laughter. Inuyasha jolted upright, watching his coworker fan his face with his hands before covering his own mouth, shutting his eyes tight and seemingly blinking back tears, his face a deep shade of unbridled crimson.

“Are you-“ 

“Crap, that burns! I can’t! Oh my god, I gotta go! Time to go!” Miroku dropped his can of soda on the counter, hastily making his way down the hall while he attempted to hold off disgusting, sputtering sounds. Kagome and Inuyasha both looked to Sango over the loveseat, who held a hand to her mouth as she tried to come off as laid-back as possible. 

“What the hell was that?” Inuyasha asked, stabbing his friend with a glare.

“Oh, he shot soda out of his nose. Totally normal.” Sango shrugged, pressing her lips together. “I should go check on him.”

“The fuck, you should! Stop being weird!” He demanded. 

“Weird? Who’s weird? Don’t you have homework to grade? Mind your business.” Sango disappeared down the hall, slamming the bedroom door shut behind her. 

“And to answer your question, my ears don’t do any flicking thing.” He directed at Kagome, his justifiable annoyance furthering the heat in his blood. 

Kagome swallowed her reply, thankfully. Flicking thing! Inuyasha has full control over his ears, he would be the first to notice if they were moving. The question itself was innocent, sure. It was more Miroku and Sango’s reaction that got to him. What was their fucking deal? Miroku, especially. The guy was getting weirder and weirder the more time he seemed to spend around him. Who the fuck over the age of ten shoots soda out of their nose?

“Flicking thing.” He grumbled, turning his attention back to the essay in hand. 

The room fell quiet. Peaceful, even. The only noise being Kagome’s fingers tapping against the screen of her phone and the howl of the wind blowing outside. Inuyasha enjoyed the silence, even relished in it, finding it difficult to focus on the work in front of him anymore. It was nice until Miroku returned, causing Inuyasha to almost cringe.

“Alright, guys, we’re headed out.” Miroku announced.

“What?” Kagome shot her attention over the sofa behind her.

“Gotta go to the store. Need anything?” Miroku smiled annoyingly. 

“Miroku, no!”

“Sango, here’s your coat.”

“Don’t ignore me! I’m serious! Will you just give up already?” Kagome was climbing over the sofa, stumbling slightly as her feet hit the ground one at a time, darting over to Miroku like a fucking leopard. 

Inuyasha was stunned as he watched Kagome go after her friend. Someone should probably stop her. He should probably stop her, but he couldn’t even bring himself to look away? He had a gut feeling from the beginning that Kagome could handle herself, and right now the girl looked about ready to throw hands, confirming his hunch. Just the sight of it made his mouth go agape. He’d never seen anything more attractive. 

“Woah! Crap, you’re fast.” Miroku backed up quickly, bracing his hands to stop Kagome. 

“Why are you being so stupid?!” Kagome demanded, her temper seething.

“Wait, what’s going on?” Inuyasha stood from the loveseat, his papers falling to the floor in his rush, finally feeling like it was time to do something.

“Sango, get in the car!” Miroku shouted, tossing his keys over everyone’s head. 

“Got ‘em! See you out there!” Sango shouted, ducking her head as she ran out into the snow. 

“Inuyasha, they’re doing the thing! They’re gonna do the thing again!” Kagome seemed semi-frantic, like a child tattling on another.

“Are you fucking kidding me? You’re still going through with it?” Inuyasha groaned. How did he somehow end up with the two most conniving, meddling people in his life? One was certainly enough from the get-go.

“It’s nothing to worry about!” Miroku shifted his weight from one foot to the other, shifting his dark eyes between the two of them. “There’s no reason for all of us to go! We’re literally just doing a beer run. Nothing else. Maybe some brownie mix. Kagome, you love brownies!” 

“Don’t try to butter me up, Miroku!” She yelled, jabbing his chest. 

“I can get butter, too.” Miroku innocently shrugged, nodding vigorously.

“Dead.” Kagome said gruffly. Even Inuyasha took a step back from how dangerous she seemed. 

“What?” 

“You’re dead to me. I warned you.”

Oh, yikes. Who knew Kagome could be so terrifying? Inuyasha made a bolded, highlighted, three-time-underlined mental note to not get on her bad side.

“Okay, no! You’re doing that scary thing!” Miroku seemed justifiably hesitant to touch her. “Let’s talk.” 

“You really want to have a conversation right now?” 

“Absolutely not, but I’m pretty sure I have to if I want to make it out alive.” Miroku grabbed her hand, taking Kagome down the hall and slamming a door shut behind them. 

What just happened? He knew what their friends were planning, but god damn, he didn’t think Kagome would be this furious about having to be alone with him. Sure, he’s not thrilled about dealing with yet another set up, but he’s not about to go out and kill Sango over it. He is, however, going to have a nice, little chat with her. Inuyasha slipped his phone out of his front pocket, hitting Sango’s contact, the ringtone stopping all too quickly as she answered.

“Inuyasha, hear me out!”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” He asked as if it were a new question. She had hightailed it out of there when he previously asked, so the repeat was fair.

“We’re just giving you two some alone time.” She defended. Yeah, he knew that much. “You two should spend this hour getting to know each other better.”

“If we wanted that, we would take the initiative ourselves. We don’t need you and Miroku pushing us together like we’re a couple of high schoolers.” He took a deep breath, glancing down the dim hall to make sure Miroku and Kagome weren’t coming. “Why Kagome? What’s so special about her?” 

Sango paused, the swallow in her throat loud enough for his ears to pick up. “I think you know the answer to that.” When Inuyasha didn’t respond, she let out a ragged sigh. “Look, Kagome is good for you, I know it. I feel it in my bones, Inuyasha. This isn’t going to be anything like Kikyo, because Kagome isn’t anything like Kikyo. You can’t be scared that every girl you meet will turn out like that.” 

“I-I’m not -“ Inuyasha sputtered.

“Don’t try and lie to me. I know you. And you know I would never purposely set you up to be hurt. Kagome is a genuinely good person. She’s never given you a reason to doubt her, so don’t! She doesn’t care that you’re a half demon. In fact, I’m pretty sure she likes it!” 

Likes that he’s a half demon? That has to be the first time he’s ever heard something like that. Sango’s told him plenty of times that him being a half demon shouldn’t stop him from making friends; that it shouldn’t keep him from letting people in, but it contradicted the entirety of his childhood. Inuyasha grew up with a half brother, a full-blooded demon, who mocked him for being what he was, and had him convinced that it’s almost impossible for a half demon such as he to have any real relationships, romantic or not. Sango being the exception.

“I highly doubt that.” 

“My god, you’re obtuse.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“Just try and get to know her some more. You like her, and you have the potential to actually enjoy your time with her. We’re literally going to be out of the house; the only person holding you back at this point is you. You can be mad at me all you want, Inuyasha, but I’m just being the supportive B.F.F. I’ve always been to you.”

Inuyasha opened his mouth to reply, a witty remark sharp on his tongue, but the sound of the bedroom door creaking opened stopped the words in his throat. He huffed, crossing around the furniture and falling back in his seat on the couch. “Whatever. Have fun ditching us, asshat.”

“Inuyasha, don’t-“ 

He hung up before she could finish, instant gratification filling him at the three, dull beeps she was receiving on her end of the line. Miroku walked over to the coat rack, the same, annoying smile from before raising his cheeks again, grabbing his beanie and waving goodbye before walking out the door. Kagome followed close behind, locking the door aggressively and sighing out. 

She glanced over her shoulder at him, and he gave her a moment to say something. Anything. Kagome gave him a small smile instead, scrunching her nose as she made her way over to the larger couch, allowing her body to sink into the cushions. 

“So, the plans in motion, huh?” He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs to get the answer he already knew. 

“Looks like it.” 

“What did he tell you was gonna happen this time around?” He groaned. He found Miroku had a more detailed way of thinking than Sango; a more expansive imagination, if you will. Sango hadn’t exactly given any details on what she expected to go down since this was her boyfriend’s idea in the first place. 

“That they’ve got the ambience perfectly set for us and so long as we roll with it, we’ll be in love by the end of the holiday.” He felt his face flush, shifting his sights to anything else in the room that wouldn’t notice his sudden embarrassment. 

“How stupid.” He shifted uncomfortably, looking around the room, making sure to keep his eyes off her. One of those, I-can’t-see-you-so-you-can’t-see-me things. Those work, right?

“Don’t worry,” She began, standing from her spot and heading towards the decorations next to the tree. “They’re a cliché mess.”

“What?” Inuyasha asked, not knowing what she was getting at in the least.

“Are you kidding me? Christmas in the cabin, a set mood, two people alone while it snows outside… This is a hallmark movie in the works! Ten bucks says the power goes out later.” Kagome giggled, picking up the decorating where they had left off the night before. She glanced over her shoulder and winked at him. “Just don’t fall in love with me, and we’ll make it out of this holiday alive.” 

Did she just.. Don’t fall in love? What a joke. That wouldn’t be hard considering he’s a master at avoiding feelings. Inuyasha rolled his eyes, the heat in his face never faulting as he crossed his arms over his chest and looked at anything but Kagome. “I don’t plan on it.” 

Inuyasha picked the mess of papers up from the area rug, deciding it better to focus on that as opposed to the girl before him. He took one last, lingering look at her as she continued to decorate the tree before tearing his golden eyes away and giving his undivided attention to the essay he had yet to finish grading. His eyes skimmed over the fictional story about wolves, and one glance at the name in the corner told him he shouldn’t have been surprised. He read over the same passage multiple times, trying to keep his concentration glued to the essay and not Kagome, finding the task to be more difficult than he’d anticipated. He tapped the pen against his thigh repeatedly, a tick of his that annoyed Miroku, reading through, yet again, for any mistakes. 

The sound of Kagome sauntering his way pulled away the remainder of his attention, his gaze shifting upwards to the star in her hand, then to the smile on her face. “Would you like to do the honors?” 

“The star?” He asked. 

“Mhm.”

“Can’t reach, huh?” Inuyasha bit back the snicker. He hated that he loved how short she was.

“Nope.” Her smile never diminished, an unbridled warmth spreading throughout his torso.

He shook his head, no longer holding back his laugh. Sitting the paper down in the pile next to the armrest, Inuyasha rose to stand, holding his clawed hand out to take the star. Kagome happily handed it to him, closely following him to the tree. 

“You’ve gotta plug the…” She instructed, and his eyes landed on the end of the lights she was referring to. He connected the chord to the star’s extension wire before firmly setting it on the branch. “Yeah, like that.” She let out a squeak of delight that really shouldn’t have been as cute as it was to him. The Douglas Fir lit up with multiple colors, glowing and sparkling and reeking of that Christmas joy people always vomited. “Ta daaa!” She held her arms out beside her, much like that Will Smith meme his students laugh at every time, her face beaming almost as brightly as the tree.

Inuyasha grinned, trying to keep his eyes on the Christmas tree but unable to fully keep his attention off of her. “You’re pretty good at this.” 

“You helped.” She slid over to stand next to him, admiring their work gleefully. 

“Hardly.” Inuyasha dismissed.

“I saw you last night. Plus, the star just now. We can’t have a Christmas tree without a topper.” Kagome looked up to him, her shoulder brushing gently against his bicep, his eyes locking on her deep brown ones, all thoughts in his head briefly becoming a haze of fog.

Pulling himself out of his reverie, he chuckled lightly, finding it almost unbelievable how easily he could become so captivated like a lovesick puppy. What was this girl doing to him? Inuyasha stepped back to his original seat and picked up the paper he had set down while Kagome went about cleaning the mess. He could hear her placing the ornament boxes back into their bags, putting them in a corner of the room. He really needed to focus on these essays; he has to give them back to his students when they returned from break. Final drafts were to be written immediately. But, how the hell was he supposed to concentrate when he’s alone with the girl he found himself wanting more and more by the minute, but couldn’t fucking have? 

Kagome sat down on the couch neighboring the loveseat he claimed, the heightening storm outside almost blocking out her throaty sigh. “Homework?” 

He peeked up at her, nodding his head. “Essays.” 

“Are they hard to grade?” She asked, her body inching closer to his in interest.

“Oh, uh… not really.”

“Can I help?”

Inuyasha can only think of one person who has ever offered to help him grade. Miroku. The two would often correct papers and exams together, helping each other out when one finished early, the assistance being fully welcomed when their classes of thirty-plus students become overwhelming during test season. The difference between this situation and past ones being, Miroku’s also a teacher. Kagome is not. At least, that he knows of. He hadn’t heard much, or anything, about her profession, trying to pick up clues when Miroku lamented about her “good qualities.” Inuyasha figured there was no harm in letting her have a go at it. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to correct spelling and punctuation; literally anyone could grade these papers. 

“Uh, sure.” He shrugged, taking the stack of papers and placing it on the small side table between them. “I had them write short, creative stories before winter break since there was a gap between testing and vacations. We’re working on their grammar and use of adjectives.” 

Kagome took the short story from the top of the stack. “So, what am I looking for?”

“Basically anything that stands out. I try to let them do their own thing with projects like these; no rules or restrictions other than consistency, so you’ll probably see a thing or two about unicorns and mermaids from the girls. I’ve been showing them different ways to describe the picture they’re painting for us. Simple enough. So far, from what I’ve read, these aren’t half bad. Let the kids have their go at things without someone looking over their shoulders every step of the way, and they can really surprise you.” Inuyasha explained.

“You sound like a really good teacher.” 

“Nah. I just do enough to get the job done.” He shrugged dismissively. “Miroku calls it lazy teaching.”

“What’s lazy about it? You gave them lessons preparing them, you gave them instruction on what to do, and you’re sitting here grading these on vacation. From my point of view, which may be worthless considering I’m no teacher, I think you’re doing plenty.” 

It’s not everyday people tell him he’s a good teacher, and even though she hasn’t witnessed first hand what his teaching style entails, it still felt good to hear. Her opinion isn’t worthless in the least, but he wouldn’t tell her that. 

Inuyasha cleared his throat, tapping the pen against his leg as he felt his nerves rising. “So, uh, just look for your basic grammatical errors, spelling errors, and correct anything that doesn’t make sense. If you’ve got any questions, just ask.” 

Inuyasha watched Kagome for an instant, soaking in the sight of her as she read over the assignment she held in between her thin fingers before turning his eyes to the paper he was supposed to be working on. There was something peaceful about it. Homey, even. It’s relaxing to be able to just sit in quiet and grade papers with someone. Her. It’s much better than the forced conversation he was worried was going to happen, but he should have known better by now. It’s Kagome, and she doesn’t force anything. She doesn’t have to. Everything came so naturally with her.

The feel of her fingers delicately brushing against his arm pulled him out of his untrained thoughts, and he glanced over to her wiggling digits. Kagome pointed towards the red pen in his right hand, and he handed it over as soon as he got the hint, watching her uncap it to make a correction before tapping the pen against her lip. He needed to look away immediately to stifle the unmitigated and stupid-as-all-hell craving to kiss her. 

They went on like that for a while, passing the pen back and forth to correct mistakes. The stack had a good dent in it when the lights started flickering, causing him to look around the room as the power died out and came back. Kagome stood, walking around the armchair closest to the window and looking out. 

“Jesus, it’s a blizzard out there!” Inuyasha approached from behind her to see for himself, watching the snow whip around crazily. 

“Do you think Miroku and Sango are okay? They’ve been gone for a long time.” 

“Who cares? They’re the ones that wanted to meddle.” Inuyasha sneered, rolling his eyes.

“Inuyasha!” She shut the curtains, turning on her heel and frowning at him accusingly. 

“What? I’m sure they’re fine! Why even worry about them?” He easily disregarded.

“It’s dangerous.” She stated, “What if they get lost because they can’t see the road? Or, worse, are in an accident because of it?” 

“Let’s be real, Kagome, there’s no way they were on their way back. Chances are they stopped to see a movie or something.” 

“What if they didn’t?” Kagome challenged.

“Then there’s nothing we can do about it!” 

Sango had assured him before that it would only be about an hour they’d be alone, though he didn’t exactly believe her. Especially since she’s with Miroku, who seems significantly more adamant on getting he and Kagome together. He one-hundred percent believes that the two are fine. Even if something has happened to the couple, he knows Sango works well under pressure. Miroku may panic, sure, but she wouldn’t. 

The electricity went out once more, and the two were left standing in the darkened room, the ongoing silence becoming worse as the hum from the vents died out, the creaks and howls from the wind growing louder. They stood there, waiting for the power to return like a couple of idiots until Inuyasha’s agitation increased, a rumble biting through his throat.

“Fucking great!”

“It’s not that bad, Inuyasha.” 

“Yeah? Can you see?” He didn’t even try to swallow the sass in his tone.

“Actually, yes. It’s not completely dark yet, so let’s just hurry and find the candles okay?” Kagome walked passed him, appearing as a shadow in the lifeless lighting as she held her arms out to help guide her way towards the kitchen. He heard her open some of the drawers, things rustling and sliding about, like she knew exactly what she was looking for, dropping something against the counter in an achieved manner. “Where’s that light-ow!” 

He tried not to laugh, honestly. semi-tried, at least. Kind of. In the end, he couldn’t stop the snort of air that left his lips as he pictured Kagome’s abundant confidence dwindling because she stubbed her damn toe since she couldn’t fucking see. Her eyes were like daggers, even from across the room, but the glare was more than worth it. 

“I’m sorry, what was that?” 

“Lighter.” She huffed. “I’m pretty sure it was on the mantle of the fireplace last night.”

“Yup.” He took a few steps back, reaching towards the mantle and dragging his fingers along it until they bumped the plastic object he seeked. “Heads up.” He tossed the lighter in her general direction, the loud crack signaling that it hit the hard flooring. 

“Inuyash-ah!” 

“Oh, yikes. Do you mean to tell me you can’t actually see?”

“Inuyasha, I swear to god.” Kagome threatened. He knew he shouldn’t be egging her on, his previous glimpse at her bad side enough to bait him away, but he couldn’t help it.

“Relax.” He droned teasingly. “I didn’t get you.”

“You could have! I don’t see why you couldn’t have walked it over to me.”

“Because I don’t want to take a chance of stubbing my toe. Duh.” He’d shrug if he knew she would see it.

Kagome groaned as she picked up the long-stemmed lighter, illuminating a small area around her by holding the small flame to the candles. She lit a few of them, an insignificant glow hovering above the surface of the counter. 

“Awesome. Three candles. I can see everything perfectly.” He said flatly, folding his arms over his chest. 

“Hey, here’s an idea: instead of being a sarcastic punk, how about you shut up and get the fire going.” The bite in her tone was evident and clear, and Inuyasha found that he liked her attitude a little too much. 

“You have the lighter?” He asked more than stated. 

“Then I guess you should just shut up.” She remarked. He watched her as she pulled more candles out, lighting them one by one, the yellow lighting becoming more prominent in front of her frame. Kagome slowly became easier to see, the soft glow and flickering shadows reflecting along her face. Inuyasha stood there, stunned. He’s far from blind, he knows Kagome’s gorgeous, but right now she was positively mesmerizing. He didn’t want to look away. There could be a crowd around him, people talking to him, shouting even, pulling and tugging at him, and his eyes would still stay glued to her. She shuffled over, carefully placing a few candles on the hearth before turning to him, taking out the long-stemmed lighter that she’d tucked into her back pocket, holding it out to him. It took him a moment to shake himself out of his reverie, noting the arch in her eyebrow and her solid demeanor as he removed the item from her hand. “Now will you light a fire?”

“Yeah, whatever.” Inuyasha grabbed a few logs from the pile next to the fireplace, setting them up on the metal stand inside. He took a few sheets from a newspaper next to the wood that would be used as kindling, balling up its pages as Kagome called out to her phones Siri. He brought the small flame to the edge of the paper, letting it catch before gently setting it against the rest of the kindling. 

Kagome fell onto the couch as Inuyasha took the tea lights from the hearth, moving them to the mantle. “Any word from them?”

“Nope,” Kagome sighed, a woosh sound coming from her phone as she sent a message. “Nothing. I really hope they’re -“

The familiar sound of Miroku’s text tone went off, catching their attention. Kagome turned, both of their eyes landing on the lit up phone sitting on the table in the doorway. She howled a dramatic whimper, turning back in her seat and shrinking down. 

“Of course.” 

“Do you think that was part of the plan?” Inuyasha sat in the armchair next to the tree, stretching his legs out to rest on the ottoman. 

“Why would anyone intentionally leave their phone behind?” Kagome asked.

“Considering the bind we’re in, the notion fits. We’ve been alone for hours, we’re snowed in, and the power’s out. They’re impossible to get ahold of - meaning no interruptions, candles and firelight set the mood, and you’ll probably get cold soon so I’ll have to hold you to keep warm because they’ve most likely hidden every blanket in the house.”

“Not even half of that was part of their plan.” She blinked, the bewilderment in her eyes growing clearer as the fire caught and grew.

“Are you kidding? This whole evening was probably a play-by-play of everything they imagined.” Inuyasha mentioned matter-of-factly.

“Yes, because last I checked, Miroku and Sango have become such a power couple that, so long as they’re together, they can literally control the weather. Look out, world! Hurricane MirSan is on the loose!” Kagome flailed her arms in front of her startlingly.

“What - what is that? MirSan?” Inuyasha forced himself to seem unamused. She’s not funny.

“It’s their ship name.” She said. “Also, I would just like to mention, fire equals warmth. I could sit by it if I get cold. Also, Sango probably has her phone, so I’ll just text her.”

Inuyasha didn’t respond, looking toward the fire as it ate at the log, the incessant popping drowning out all other noise in the room. He watched as the flames danced around while Kagome texted their friend. It only took a few minutes before she got a reply, and that was enough to reassure him that they were safe somewhere. 

Kagome set her phone down after the notification dings ended, rising from her seat and heading towards the kitchen. “They’re okay. They’re in a restaurant waiting the storm out. Looks like the power outage is throughout most of town.”

“Told you they were fine.” 

“It didn’t hurt to check. Dinner?” She offered, spreading the tea lights out around the kitchen. 

“How do you plan on cooking?” Inuyasha asked.

“It’s a gas stove. All I need is the lighter.” She pulled out some groceries, a few vegetables poking out of thin, plastic bags, and set them on the counter. Inuyasha got up, grabbing the lighter from where he’d left it on the mantle and traveled into the kitchen, offering it over to her. She smiled, taking it from him and sliding it into her pocket. 

“What can you even make in a blackout?”

“Almost anything, really. I’ll whip up some chicken, sauté some vegetables, and make some rice on the side. How does that sound?”

Delicious, really. 

“I don’t think they have a rice cooker here, Kagome.” He mentioned, opening one of the cabinets and peeking in. 

“No, but we have plenty of other cookware here, and you can make rice in a pot.” Kagome opened the large cabinet on the island, pulling out a skillet and a small pot with its lid. “My mom never had a rice cooker growing up, so we always made it this way. It’s not too different.” 

Inuyasha watched her lay everything out neatly so she’d be able to see it. If his phone wasn’t already at thirteen percent before the blackout, he’d be holding the built-in flashlight up to help out. She poured the rice into the measuring cup before turning the stove on, using the lighter to get a small flame going. He watched her move around expertly, almost with no thought to what she was doing. It looked like it was second nature to her. It was interesting gathering the rhythm she had going. He almost felt like he was in her way until she pulled a huge ass knife from a nearby drawer. 

“Woah, no! It’s way too dark to go cutting shit! You’ll lose a finger!” Inuyasha made to take the knife from her, but Kagome stepped back, putting the blade behind her and out of his reach. 

“Would you relax? I’m a professional. I know how to cut a bell pepper without getting my finger in the mix.” She stated, mindlessly brushing him off.

“A professional at cutting vegetables?” He asked, unamused. 

“A professional chef. I literally do this for a living.” 

Inuyasha relaxed. She literally did know what she was doing. It wasn’t often that people said that and were actually able to back it up. “You’re a chef?” 

“I sure am.” Kagome grinned, making her way around him and back to the cutting board. It made sense now why she moved so effortlessly and comfortably around the kitchen. He took her queue to light the other burner as she brought over the skillet, melting some butter and allowing the meat to cook, stepping back and closely observing the way she worked as she started cutting the vegetables. She may be a professional, but that doesn’t mean accidents never happen. Especially in a dim-lit room. It was natural, in this case, to be a little worried that she’d slip up and cut herself. 

His eyes stayed on her as she moved about the kitchen, taking the lightly-browned chicken from the skillet and placing them aside on a plate. She melted some more butter in the pan, mixing in the vegetables. 

“Okay,” She began, her voice coming out high-pitched. “How about we play a game.”

“A game?” Inuyasha lifted himself to sit on the counter. 

“Yeah! A question game.” She pushed the vegetables around in the pan. “We’re gonna be stuck in the cabin for a while. Our best friends, A.K.A. our only mutual ties to one another, are out. How about we get to know each other while we have the chance?”

Sango did tell him to get to know Kagome, and there was a good chance of hell to pay if he didn’t at least try. Kagome was literally presenting the opportunity on a silver platter, and quite frankly, the risk wasn’t worth it.

“I guess. You start.” 

Kagome added the chicken back to the pan, messing with the heat. He couldn’t tell you what kind of seasonings she put in, but it smelled good. She hummed to herself as she thought, passing by him and opening the fridge to pull out the opened bottle of wine from last night. 

“Go for a hike or stay in and watch Netflix?” She asked, pulling two glasses down and pouring the red liquid into both.

“Hike. You?” He took the offered glass.

“You can’t just ask me the same questions every time!” Kagome shot, shaking her head.

“Ugh, okay. Fine. Wine or beer?” 

Kagome lifted her glass in answer, taking a quick sip. “Wine, of course. Cats or dogs?” 

“Excuse me?” 

“Sorry,” She laughed, the sound causing his ear to twitch pleasantly. He’s not about to admit to her that he likes cats when he’s got dog demon blood. He’d be a walking contradiction, like those fucking Starburst commercials. “Never mind that one! New question: have you ever been on a cruise?”

“No, and I’ve never been interested in going on one.” Inuyasha wrinkled his nose, taking a big sip of his drink. Kagome only nodded, heading back to the stove to give her attention to the food cooking. 

“Your turn.”

“Okay, have you and Miroku ever been a thing?” He challenged. 

Kagome nearly choked on her wine, holding the glass as she spewed it back in. He flinched back, unexpecting the response he got. “What?!”

Inuyasha laughed, waiting for her to say something more. She noticeably shuddered, the disgust twisting at her lips, and he urged her to answer with a raise of his brow. 

“Was that a serious question? Of course I’ve never been with Miroku!” Kagome said a little too loudly.

“You say that like being with Miroku is a bad thing.”

“Well, yeah! It is for me!” Her tone was getting higher and higher.

“Why?”

“Nope, my turn.” She cut him off at the knees, stealing her game back as she adjusted the heat on the vegetables and removed the lid from the rice. She took a fork from the drawer, stirring the rice around a bit before replacing the top. “You ever been with Sango?”

“I thought we weren’t supposed to ask the same questions!” Inuyasha mocked, jumping from the counter and heading towards the fireplace. He picked up the fire iron, poking at the burning logs to keep them going. 

“We aren’t. At no point did I ask if you dated Miroku, did I?” She teased.

“Loopholes.” He grunted, shaking his head and sitting in the armchair. He leaned back, eyeing her as she got comfortable against the marble counter closest to the stove. “No, I’ve never dated Sango. Never even considered it. She’s the closest thing to a sibling that I’ve got.” 

“Wait, I thought I heard Sango mention you had an older brother.” She said, turning the burners off and opening the cabinets to get down two plates. 

“Half brother and the only good thing that came from him was my niece. Now answer my earlier question.”

Kagome portioned their food on the plates in front of her, not bothering to look at him as she answered. “Miroku and I have been strictly platonic since day one and that’s how it’ll always be. Plus, I’m not into that whole rat tail thing he has going on.” Kagome giggled. 

“You’re honestly telling me that at no point in the recent years have you two been attracted to one another? B.S.. I don’t buy it.” Inuyasha shook his head confidently, casually taking a sip of the overly-sweet wine. Maybe she wasn’t lying. Maybe she never thought of Miroku as anything more than a friend, but if he’s learned anything about his coworker, it’s that the guy wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to hit on a good looking woman, and Inuyasha had a feeling that Kagome wasn’t a late bloomer.

“No, seriously, we’ve never looked at each other that way.” She defended boldly. 

“Really? Because you guys seemed awfully comfortable with each other earlier.” He could argue about this for days.

“When?”

“The kiss. This morning.”

“What, the kiss on the cheek? The super simple, meaningless, friendly peck on the cheek I got?” 

“It could have meant something else.” He waved off.

“Yeah, but it didn’t. Why do you even care so much? You sound like you’re jealous of something.” Kagome baited. 

“N-no! Obviously, I’m not! It just… I don’t know, it seemed like maybe there was something more there!” Inuyasha wanted to put a halt to that thought immediately, ignoring the heat in his cheeks. Him? Jealous? Fat chance. He was just looking out for Sango, plain and simple. He didn’t give a rats ass if Kagome and Miroku had ever been involved before. He did and he didn’t. He did. Fuck, he did. He really fucking did.

“Believe me, there isn’t! He’s my best friend, Inuyasha. And he would never hurt Sango like that.”

He looked away from her, staring back at the fire, watching as the wood charred and broke apart, the flames dancing around languidly. He crossed his arms over his chest, tensing his jaw. He was maybe a little jealous this morning, but he refused to admit it to anyone other than himself. The bigger part of him, or so he thought, had wanted to make sure that Miroku wouldn’t hurt Sango. He’s making excuses to himself, and he knows it. Kagome chuckled at something and he consciously felt his ear flick in her direction. 

Inuyasha had noticed after Kagome had taken it upon herself to point it out, like a hyperawareness, that one, or even both, of his ears would sometimes twitch for no good reason at all. He hadn’t been able to place why it happened before, but at this point, he has a pretty strong hunch. There’s not much noise inside the cabin; the crackling of the fire, the occasional whistle of the wind against the windows, the creaking floors when they walk. Aside from that, and their conversations with all they entailed, it was mostly quiet. The only sound he could think of, the only sound of all of the aforementioned that he remotely enjoyed, that would have a strong enough affect on him to cause a twinge in his own, sensitive ears had to be Kagome’s laugh. Typically, Inuyasha was perfectly capable of liking things in secret. He’d appreciate whatever it was, keep the news to himself, and move on with his life. With Kagome, it was like an entirely different story. He had minor feelings for the girl, and people can apparently see it written all over his face like a damn billboard. He found something about her endearing, and Sango calls him out every fucking time they have a “moment.” He appreciates the sounds of her joy, and his _ears, _a part of his own body, betrays him with zero remorse. So much for total control over the appendages.

Maybe Sango was right- surprise, surprise. Kagome has never seemed put off by his half demon traits. She was the kind of girl to accept anybody and everybody with open arms. The girl is an actual saint. But, just because she doesn’t hate that he’s a half demon, doesn’t mean she likes _him, _per se. A part of Inuyasha would like to believe that she does. The side of him that’s hopelessly falling for her more and more with each giggle, poorly-told joke, and sassy remark. He’s not one to willingly set himself up to be hurt, though. He won’t allow himself to get his hopes up that a girl like Kagome could like someone like him. 

Kagome laughed to herself again, and he felt the same ear twitch in response. Son of a bitch. No. Nope. What the hell is she even laughing at? 

He shifted, pulling his phone out of his back pocket and unlocking it. He needed to distract himself, to keep himself busy and not focused on the girl in the kitchen. He opened his message thread with Sesshomaru, realizing he never replied, typing a simple “_sure” _as slowly as one could pop in the four letters.

Kagome cleared her throat, running the sink water briefly. “Okay, dinner’s ready!” She announced, clearing off the island countertop. “It’d probably be easier to eat over here.” 

Inuyasha stood, slipping his phone back into his pocket as he made his way over to the island. He thanked her quietly as she slid a plate to him, opening a drawer and pulling out some knives, carefully handing him one. 

“More wine?” He asked, taking the bottle from the counter and filling his cup halfway.

“Please.” Inuyasha poured what was left of the wine into her glass, before finally turning to his plate to start eating. “So, whose turn was it? Mine?” 

“Oh, yeah.” 

“Okay, um…” Kagome took a bite of chicken, thinking up a question and clicking her tongue when she had one. “What’s your brothers name?”

“Douchebag.” 

“What?” She laughed. Oh fuck.

“That’s what I call him.” He shrugged as nonchalantly as possible. “Most other people know him as Sesshomaru, though. What are your hobbies?” 

“Binge watching shows on Netflix and playing with my cat.” Kagome said.

Inuyasha snorted as he finished his bite of food, reflexively shooting the back of his hand to his mouth to try and cover his chortle. “No wonder Miroku wanted to set you up with someone.” 

“Shut up!” Kagome grabbed an untouched candle from the package nearby, throwing it at him without an ounce of hesitation. He blocked it easily with his shoulder and laughed. “I do not need help getting a boyfriend, just so you know! He just hates everyone I date!” 

“Awe, it’s so nice knowing Miroku approves of me.” He said, holding a hand to his sternum and feigning delight.

“Mhm, still haven’t figured out why.” She said sarcastically. 

“Rude ass.” Inuyasha snorted again.

“Okay, speaking of exes, what’s your story? Have you had awful ones and Sango’s just decided to take the lead in your love life, or what?” 

Inuyasha finished his dinner, the aftertaste of Kagome’s cooking just as good as the meal itself. He made his way over to the sink, gently dropping his dishes in. “Not really. None of my exes actually led to anything special. Sango just thinks you’re nice…” 

“I do have my moments.” Kagome agreed, the humor heavy in her voice.

“I would fully appreciate it if she stayed out of my love life though, lack thereof or not.” He mentioned, strongly wishing the notion would travel through Kagome’s ears and somehow reach Sango’s.

“Why does that sound like she’s done something wrong?” 

“Because she has.” Inuyasha turned the water on, rinsing his plate off and finding the sponge, but Kagome got his attention before he did anything more, softly swatting his arm to gesture that she would take care of it later.

“And…?” She squeezed by him, setting her plate in the sink and letting the cold water run over it. 

“And it was the worst blind date in existence. It would have never happened if she didn’t set me up, and I’m not looking to relive it. What’s your favorite food?” Inuyasha asked, keeping the game flowing.

“Pasta.” She picked up her glass of wine as they moved to the living room, making herself comfortable on the sofa, folding her legs beneath her. “May I ask what happened, or is it too bold of me?”

“Pretty bold of you, but I guess there’s really no harm.” He sat at the other end of the couch after prodding at the fire again, the jostling of the cushions from his plop down hardly affecting the girl at the opposite side. “She set me up with this chick that has a thing against demons, and considering I’m half… well, you can imagine how the night went.” 

Kagome’s jaw dropped, a gasp leaving her lips. “No way!” 

He chuckled and nodded, her reply more dramatic than he expected.

“Well then, I definitely don’t blame you for not trusting her sense of judgement.” She confirmed.

“What about you? What has Miroku done to make you skeptical of his?” Inuyasha asked, genuinely curious to see how much worse their mutual friend could get.

“Nothing, actually. He’s never done this before. I had settled on the idea that he was just over protective of me and therefore would never like a guy I introduced him to, you know? Like, the whole no-one-will-ever-be-good-enough-for-you thing. Then, suddenly, he’s head over heels about the idea of you and I going out. I don’t get it.” She raised the glass to her lips, taking a languid sip.

“Maybe there’s nothing to get.” Inuyasha said, his eyes gazing over at her. There was a small lick of disappointment in his chest, but he pushed it away. It wouldn’t do him any good to focus on it at the moment. Or ever. “I’m sure he has his dumb reasons, but if you aren’t interested then you aren’t interested. Just leave it alone. He’ll give up eventually.” 

“It’s not that I’m not interested. I’m just curious about his sudden change of heart.” Kagome mentioned carelessly. The words didn’t take long to sink in, bringing him into an extremely alert state. Did she literally just say that after almost punching Miroku’s lights out not even a few hours ago when they were about to be left alone?

“You… W-wait, you are interested?” His mind was racing a mile a minute, turning to face her as he waited impatiently for a response. This could be a mistake, he was well aware of that. People say things and give off the wrong messages all the time.

“Hm?” Kagome’s face resembled something similar to a lenticular image, transitioning through a few expressions ranging from calm, to confused, to aware, to absolute terror.

Inuyasha stared at her. Waiting for her to fucking say something. Her lips parted, and he immediately braced himself for the confirmation or the denial. 

“Whose turn was it? Mine? What’s your nieces name?” Her voice cracked slightly as she tried not to appear flustered, clearly giving her best effort to throw him off track with their stupid question game.

“Rin. Kagome, are you serious?” Inuyasha dove right back in. There was no denial.

“Please elaborate.” Kagome straightened in her seat, her body noticeably tensing from unease.

“Do you - I mean… J-Just, go back to what you said earlier. Did you mean that, or…?”

Her cheeks managed to show a dark shade of crimson, and it looked like she wasn’t going to try diverting anymore, her attempts feeble as they were. He wanted her to admit it. God damn, Inuyasha wanted to hear her say she liked him. If there was even a small chance for him, he wanted to know. Now.

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“You’re really gonna make me say it?” Kagome radiated embarrassment, but there was no way he would back down now.

“Kagome.” Inuyasha said firmly.

“Ugh- Inuyasha! Yes, I have feelings for you! I got roped in god knows how long ago, and I kept up the facade I had going because I thought that was the right thing to do! Miroku and Sango treated this like a game! We couldn’t very well let them win; we would never hear the end of it! This isn’t altogether my fault thought, I want that to be noted! I mean, look at you!” She gestured to his entire body and he blinked in surprise, mouth open slightly at her admission. “Oh my god, no. That came out wrong… what I meant was, I can’t really explain what I feel when I see you, but it’s… nice. I mean, I can, but I’d really rather not because I’ll start rambling and that’s just a whole different side of me that no one should have to deal with.” 

“You’re already rambling.” Inuyasha stated, keeping his tone steady as he tried to absorb everything, hoping he wasn’t coming off as anxious as she clearly was.

“Believe it or not, it gets worse.” She mumbled, gently bobbing her head from side to side in admittance. “Look, we can drop it. We never have to talk about this again if you don’t want to. We’ll mind our business like we normally do and move on with our lives. Miroku promised me that after Christmas they wouldn’t push us on each other anymore, so we don’t have anything to worry about.” 

Inuyasha didn’t respond immediately, watching as she sucked her bottom lip between her teeth, biting down on the plump skin. His head was spinning uncontrollably, his heart racing as if he’d just ran a marathon. Kagome likes him. How much time was appropriate to take in order to process what he had just heard? Not much, apparently, because Kagome was walking away from him by the time he was able to sigh out a stable breath.

“Wai- Kagome, where are you going?”

She didn’t answer. Kagome kept her pace around the couches and towards the hall, Inuyasha just barely managing to reach her arm before she disappeared into the darkened area. He pulled her back to him, and she bashfully turned to face him. There was no way in hell Inuyasha was about to let her walk away before he had a chance to say anything back. 

“What, were you just gonna hide in your room for the rest of the night?” 

“Not exactly.” Kagome gave a measly shrug of one shoulder.

“Then why did you leave? I didn’t get to say anything.”

“I didn’t think you would!”

“You threw a lot at me, Kagome! I needed a minute to take it all in!”

“Ugh, we really don’t have to talk about this!” He could feel her try to get her arm free, though her efforts were weak.

“Did I say that’s what I wanted?!” Inuyasha pulled her closer, her face completely shadowed from view, his broad body blocking all light that could reach from the fire, the sweaters over their frames grazing against one another’s as their chests rose and fell from their breaths. He kept his tone low and steady, “Give me a fucking moment to wrap my mind around a girl like you liking a guy like me.”

Inuyasha released his grip on her arm, allowing his hand to slide down and hold onto her small wrist. Kagome still held some tension in her muscles, their bodies so close together Inuyasha could feel it for himself. The language in her bones confirmed everything she said to him, and more. She was just as afraid of rejection as he was.

“I haven’t been able to keep my eyes off you since the day we met, Kagome, and after hearing all that, I don’t give a shit if they win.” He admitted, his feet inching him closer.

Inuyasha curved his hand around the soft skin of her jaw, over her ear, and threaded his fingers through her silky, dark hair. He didn’t need to see her in order to know that his words did something for her, and that’s all he found himself wanting to do over and over. Kagome’s happiness had somehow become his own. She glanced up above him, and his eyes followed her trail, landing on the green mistletoe hanging from the beam. 

“Of course.” He commented, not sounding surprised in the least. Kagome bit her lip, her hands grazing up his sides, fingers clutching to the black cotton adorning his torso, pulling his attention back to her. He dipped down without a second thought, succumbing to the overwhelming urge to take her, the fingers in her hair gripping tenderly as he slowly tilted her head back to welcome him in. 

“One more set up won’t hurt.” She whispered against his lips, her warm breath drawing an approving rumble from his chest. His kiss starting slow, needy, and deep, evolving into something fierce and all too satisfying. He didn’t know how badly he’d wanted, needed, Kagome until now, and he fucking had her. Maybe Christmas wasn’t all that bad after all. Both his hands hooked under the crook of her jaw, holding her to him, their chests pressed tightly to one another’s, her hands undeniably pulling him closer and closer as he felt a heat that rivaled the fire’s beyond the hearth. 

Inuyasha couldn’t suppress the snicker he let out against her lips. Sure, they lost their game of defiance to their meddling friends, but honestly, who was the real winner here?

[valeriianz]

I did my best!

Oliver was having a stressful holiday week.

His job hadn’t given him the days off he needed to visit home for Christmas, even after they said it would be fine and to go ahead and order your plane tickets, yeah sure, it’d be fine. Not like he wouldn’t be able to return or get a refund on his ticket. Oh wait that’s right, he couldn’t.

Oliver took a long pull from his bottle while he sat on the couch, glaring at his small Christmas tree set up on an end table. He was over his present budget and yet still hadn’t gotten anything for dad… and now that he wasn’t going home for the holidays, Oliver would have to ship all these gifts to his family. Fantastic.

Christmas sucked.

Oliver was taking another gulp from his beer when he heard people loudly talking outside, some shouting, loud enough to be heard over his TV, which quietly played a horror movie. Cos fuck Christmas.

Oliver’s ears perked as the sound diminished in a wave of whispered “shh’s” and loud throat clearing.

Then a burst of song erupted from Oliver’s front door and all he could do for his part was… sit stunned for a moment.

Brows furling, Oliver looked at his phone, 1:30… in the morning.

There were carolers at his door in the middle of the night.

With a grumble that could match the Grinch, Oliver shot himself up from his couch, unconcerned that he only wore boxer shorts and a hoodie, and marched to his front door.

With a flick of the wrist the deadbolt came loose and Oliver yanked the door back, leaning forward to open the screen door wide and addressing the small group of carolers.

“Hey!” Oliver shouted. The slight buzz from his drinking devoid Oliver of a politeness filter. “Shut up!”

The singers, all four of them, went silent. A few of them (a boy and girl linked arm-in-arm) collapsing into a fit of giggles.

One staggered forward. Oliver had a silly thought that maybe he should let them sing, or at least this guy, the one moving towards him right now, arms swinging out wide with a smile that could cut.

“Now that’s not nice, Mr. Scrooge.” He pointed a very direct finger at Oliver and his entourage giggled again behind him. “We’re just spreadin’ some good cheer ‘n shit.”

Oliver blinked. God, how can a drunk man look so attractive.

“It’s late, you’re disturbing the neighborhood.”

“You’re disturbing…” The guy snickered. “… my brain, cos you’re so cute.”

Oliver couldn’t help it, he grinned while the other guy in the group groaned dramatically.

“Ohmygod Connor, you said you wouldn’t be weird!”

The guy, Connor, ignored him. “C’mon, one song?”

The girls fell into a course of pleading and bouncing on their feet.

Oliver barely noticed them, eyes glued to Connor, who’s smile was growing the longer Oliver left them in silence.

“Fine. But just one, then you all need to go home. It’s seriously late and some people have work in the morning.”

Connor nodded in understanding. “Probably for the best.” He turned back to his friends.

“Someone did threaten to call the cops on us…” The girl huddled under the other guy’s arm mumbled.

And Connor led them in a drunken, off key, misheard lyric version of Little Drummer Boy, with the other guy imitating a drum in front of him while horribly beat boxing to the words.

Oliver stood in his doorway, legs freezing and his stressful, shitty mood completely eradicated. Connor watched him the entire time, eyes mischievous and wandering down Oliver’s front every now and then, and Oliver returned the stare, biting back a grin and feeling himself getting warm despite the cold.

He was almost disappointed when they finished, but Oliver gave them a quiet round of applause, laughing softly at the bumbling bows each one of them attempted.

A slew of, “Thanks for listening,” and “Merry Christmas!” emitted from the four carolers as they began stumbling away, caught up in one another.

Except Connor, who lingered, hands stuffed in his coat pockets.

“You know, for a Scrooge, you got some great legs.”

“Am I supposed to be flattered?” Oliver crossed his arms, leaning against the doorway.

Connor smirked and Oliver was glad for the support of the frame, he nearly felt himself stumble.

One of the girls hollered for Connor in the middle of the road. Connor turned, giving them the “one second” finger before giving his attention back to Oliver. He slowly walked up the steps, arriving within arms distance from Oliver.

“What’s your name?”

Oliver straightened his shoulders, considering. And thinking, what the hell. This guy wouldn’t remember him anyway.

“Oliver.”

“Oliver,” Connor repeated, nodding. “I’m Connor, if you couldn’t tell by now.”

Oliver smiled again, his eyes darting to the floor, his bare toes turning purple.

“Nice to meet you.”

A hand appeared in his vision and Oliver looked up, meeting those gorgeous eyes again, brown, he could see. Oliver took the offering, giving his gloved hand a shake and loving how it fit against his own.

“Likewise, Connor.”

“Maybe I’ll see you again.”

Connor gave Oliver’s hand one last squeeze before letting it drop.

Oliver chuckled softly.

“Yeah, maybe.”

“Maybe” turned into a surprising “definitely,” just a few weeks later.

It was days before Christmas and one of Oliver’s colleagues was hosting a party. Knowing Jim and how silly he was, Oliver assumed it would be safe to wear an ugly holiday sweater.

He was wrong. And so was Connor.

“Hey,” Connor finally found his was to Oliver, who smiled wide at Connor’s ridiculous red and green over-sized sweater that read, “Ho Ho Homo.”

“Hi.”

Connor’s smirk faltered a little, eyes dropping to the floor and back to Oliver.

“Have we met?”

Oliver laughed softly.

“Yeah, couple weeks ago. You and your friends sang in front of my house.”

Connor pointed a triumphant finger. “That’s right! Oliver?”

Oliver nodded, something pleasant shooting down his spine at the thought of Connor remembering his name.

“Connor.”

Connor smirked again. Its impact was more powerful when he was sober. Oliver felt his eyes glued to his lips and his brain wiped clean.

“Nice to meet you, again.” He held a hand out and Oliver took it, holding on strong and firm and maybe a little too long before letting it drop.

“I like your sweater.” Oliver smiled, watching Connor look down at himself.

He shrugged, taking a pull from his beer. “Yours is better. Looks like everyone else missed the memo, huh?”

Oliver’s sweater was a Christmas vomit of colors, stencils, and blinking lights. It was Oliver’s favorite sweater… when he used to feel festive.

“They so did. Forgot the lights were still on,” Oliver laughed a little to himself. He pulled the hem up a little and pressed the button to turn the little bulbs off. “Don’t want to distract anyone.”

“I doubt it’s the sweater that’s distracting.”

Oliver looked back to Connor and found his eyes just as they looked away from the patch of skin he’d accidentally exposed.

They ducked away from the crowd after that, finding a more peaceful corner to talk in. Oliver asking how he knew the host, who his friends were that night, and if that was something Connor did regularly.

Connor denied getting drunk enough to serenade random hot guys, he usually used his mouth for that. Which led to Oliver challengingly asking how that works, and Connor willingly taking the bait and pressing Oliver against the wall and kissing him senseless.

The night ended back at Oliver’s house, the two of them stumbling up icy stairs and discarding their silly sweater on the floor of Oliver’s bedroom.

[magiclaud]

I hate this place (USUK)

Pairing: USUK, RUSENG, GERITA. 

Summary: The neighbours of the  building decide to spend the dinner of Christmas Eve’s together to bond with each other. However, they do it too little… or too much. They say where there’s smoke, there is fire, although on their world of smoke and mirrors Alfred, the building’s porter, doesn’t feel sure about anything anymore. 

Translation of my submission to the USUK’s Spanish christmas event. The prompt was: “Introducing your boyfriend in a Christmas dinner.” The fanfiction was inspired on the show “Aquí no hay quién viva” ( “I hate this place”)

a/n: Oh my god what a self-indulging fic, ha ha! All right, all right, soap opera plots are my guilty pleasure, especially if they are accompanied by holiday drama! Merry Christmas everyone! 

*

It was so early when the building’s porter woke up that the sun hadn’t woken up yet. The cars had thin layers of ice, and Alfred couldn’t help to blow hot air into his hands to warm himself up. He wasn’t wearing much apart from his grey uniform and his belt, in which he had the door’s keys. Alfred was cleaning the porter’s floor when he sensed someone walking to his side.

“Good morning,” the man seemed Asian. Even hunched, Alfred noted he was the tallest of the too.

“I haven’t seen you before,” Alfred said. Avenue H was pretty calm, so any person who crossed the sidewalk received the attention of the neighbours. Also, the buildings were small: the one Alfred worked on barely had three floors, as well as the attic where dusty objects were stored as part of the history of the place.

“They’ve contracted me in that restaurant of the corner,” said the man. He must’ve been twenty-something, as well as Alfred. “My name’s Kiku, by the way,” Alfred smiled at him and introduced himself, although their conversation was interrupted when another man entered the building.

“Good morning, Mr. Braginsky,” said Alfred. The man dragged his dirty boots over the part of the portal that had been mopped up by Alfred.

“Always good days to those who do nothing. Just look at how you have the portal…” he complained, gritting his teeth.

“Hey, how about a lil enthusiasm? It’s almost Christmas Eve” the other man didn’t seem to pay attention. His violet eyes focused on Alfred’s, who sensed tension build on his body. After a deathly silence, the man finally smiled lightly, without breaking the eye contact. His expression contrasted abruptly with his smile, which made the situation more eerie.

“I hope we see each other in the president’s reunion, yankee,” Braginsky said his words with latent disdain. As he walked away, Alfred and Kiku exhaled a breath they didn’t know they’d been holding. As time went by, Alfred spoke again, although his voice was quieter this time.

“That’s Ivan Braginsky, from 2nd A. He’s the creep of the building, ‘has a lot of money that no one knows where he gets, that sorta thing. He’s supposed to live with his mother, although I believe he’s pulled a psycho, if you know what I mean,” as he saw Kiku’s face, Alfred proceeded to calm him down. “Hey, don’t worry, not everyone’s like that. Also, a porter’s work consists in accepting weirdos with a smile, and I’m the fucking best at it. I could me an actor, you know?”

Afterward, someone seemed to walk down the stairs, and they both went quiet. A young man, with blue eyes and golden hair walked through the porter. He wore an angel-like smile, and his scarf was adorably bigger than his coat.

“Good morning,” his voice was lively, and Alfred and Kiku replied instantly. The man smiled at them again and walked in direction to the subway, as they both looked at him with their minds boggled.

“Who was that ?” Kiku had turned red. Alfred had to laugh at that.

“His name’s Tino, but don’t get excited; he’s married,” he said. “Although his husband is in a business trip.”

“Then is he leaving alone?” Alfred clicked his tongue and tilted his head.

“No, he felt lonely and he began living with my father and Arthur Kirkland.”

“Wait,” Kiku looked confused. “Does your father live here?”

Alfred smiled cheekly. “Yeah, kind of. When my parents broke up my father went to live with Arthur. He wanted me to live with them too, but I wanted to be on my own. More… independent, you know,” Kiku was looking at him understandingly, “so I became  a porter. It’s pretty nice; they give me a salary but I can sleep in the porter’s lodge.”

“Yes, and I suppose your father and his lover are grateful for it in the end, aren’t they?” Alfred laughed again, and moved his hands frantically.

“No, no, dude! Arthur’s not my father’s boyfriend! Ugh, Arthur’s like —I don’t know, like your ugly friend that pretends he’s so mighty because he’s not hot, that kind of guy,” as he said it, Alfred felt someone punch his back, and he turned to face Arthur Kirkland staring at him with an unpleasant look. “Eh, yes, Arthur Doyle. Of course, Kiku, I was talking about Arthur Doyle, not— Oh, Arthur, I hope you have a good day!”

“Fuck you!” Arthur pushed him to go through the portal, but Alfred grabbed his wrist to stop him.

“Hey, don’t go too far; the president’s reunion is in half an hour.”

“Oh, shit! It was today!” Arthur kicked the floor when, for a second, he seemed to lose his balance and fell into the floor. Alfred and Kiku tried to look at him with a serious expression, although their eyes must’ve let Arthur see their funny looks because he looked even more angry. “Oh, fuck off!”

“Come on, Art, let’s go to the president’s house,” Alfred made a motion to pat his back, and Arthur tensed like a cat.

“I’m not even the owner…” he lamented, although Alfred was ignoring him.

“Kiku, man, come with us, I’m sure you’ll love it!” he circled them with his arms and the three men walked towards the  1st A flat.

*

The living  room of the 1st A was big, although old-fashioned, and the wall was merely dominated by paintings. However, most of the neighbours seemed more interested in taking a seat for the reunion that was about to begin.

“Feli, how are ya?” Alfred sat next to Feliciano, one of the Vargas’ sons. The young man was looking down, and shrugged as he looked at his hands. Feliciano opened his mouth to answer, but Gilbert Beilschdmidt sat between them.

“Feliciano, amico! That how you say it? I don’t care, honestly… You’re the man I was looking for…” the man had a special look in his eyes, and Feliciano nodded as if he understood what it meant. He made a motion of apology to Alfred and then both men started to exchange whispers, so Alfred opted to keep talking to Kiku.

“Gilbert Beilschmidt, his brother’s the president of the neighbour association. Feliciano Vargas is from the flat 1st B. Some people say he is having an affair with the president, although there’s nothing confirmed.”

“You know a lot about gossips,” said Kiku. Alfred laughed.

“A good porter has to be a good source of information,” Alfred recited, as if he had learnt it from a manual. Someone banged the table and everyone went quiet so the president could speak. Ludwig Beilschmidt spoke this time, and quickly looked at Roman, the Vargas’ godfather, who got up and looked at the neighbours.

“The truth is that I was the one to call the reunion,” he said. “We’ve thought that, in these dates, it could be a good occasion to the community to solve its differences, so I wanted to invite you all to the Christmas’ dinner in our house.”

“Let me state that I believe this would be a great initiative for this, our community,” said Ludwig.

“Definitely better than the invisible friend from last year,” Antonio, from the 1stA, murmured. Gilbert barked a laughter.

“Hey, mes amis, I actually think it is a beautiful idea,” spoke Francis, Alfred’s father, with the manners that his son seemed to lack of in front of everyone. “I mean, for the rest of you. I have plans…”

“Said the playboy,” Gilbert snickered. Everyone started to talk again, and Ludwig’s face appeared to contort.

“If no one has anything useful to say,” he glared at his brother, “I believe we should close the session. Merry Christmas, everyone, or whatever.”

“Thank god it’s over,” Arthur Kirkland left the room murmuring something about a job. Alfred was about to leave as well, but Ludwig restrained him from doing so.

“Alfred, why haven’t you put the Christmas lights yet? We’re almost in Christmas Eve. And you better help Roman with whatever he needs for the dinner, I don’t want to hear that you’ve been lacking off.”

“Yes, sir,” said Alfred. Then he groaned. They didn’t pay him enough for his job.

*

Arthur arrived to the building in a sourer mood than how he had left. He was sick of it. Sick of being almost forty years old without no stability. Sick of being exploited by manager’s younger than him, and sick of prostituting his knowledge of languages to phony kids from the upper side of town for a nefarious salary. He only wished to get home and make himself a bath, without caring about anything. He walked through the stairs creeping his feet and he let out a curse as he searched for his keys.

“Bloody hell,” he started to bang the door until he convinced himself his flatmates weren’t home.  His body seemed heavier as he went to the portal, finding Alfred putting a plastic Christmas tree while talking in the phone. Arthur crossed his arms, and waited until Alfred hung up and tilted his head to look at him.

“What the fuck is that?”

“The building needs a little more Christmas spirit,” Alfred replied. “And it isn’t the only one, scrooge.”

Arthur inhaled through his nostrils. Arguing with this brat would take too much time, so he simply resigned and asked:

“Were you talking to your father? Did he told you when he’ll come back?”

“No, though I suppose he’ll be here in a couple of hours, as always. Is something the matter?”

Arthur groaned. He remembered the humiliation from the morning, and thought about going to the closest bar to wait until Francis would come home while he explored the special Christmas drink. It wasn’t a bad plan, but judging from the swollen vein in his front, he’d need something more effective to relax.

“I left my key. I need you to open the door.”

Alfred made a face and searched through his belt. “Shit,” he murmured. Arthur frowned.

“What?”

“You forgot the please” Alfred smirked at his reaction.

“Go to hell, bloody yankee. You open my damn door.”

“I’m going, I’m going—” they stood before the door. As soon as it was opened, Alfred smiled again. “Something to say?”

“Thank you,” Arthur said, “for doing your fucking job late,” however, as soon as he completed the sentence Alfred blocked his way through the door. “What the fuck do you want now?”

“I don’t know, you tell me. I understand you’re a bitter man but in no way that is a pass to mistreat others, especially when they are helping you,” Alfred was serious, and had mimicked Arthur by crossing his arms too. Arthur didn’t hesitate.

“You’re not helping me! You do this because it is your duty. If Ludwig would’ve left his keys, you’d open his door too,” after he spoke, he pushed Alfred and managed to enter in his flat, although the porter seemed to follow him.

“What are you talking about, Arthur?” Arthur marched through his refrigerator, and grabbed two beers. After an internal debate, he passed one to Alfred, and they both drank while their breaths were the only things heard in the room.

“What was that about?” Alfred repeated. Arthur regretted letting him in, but figured his day wouldn’t be worse for giving in his thoughts.

“I’m nothing, you’re right. Nothing but a bitter man,” Arthur said. “My God, the person with whom I’ve spoken most today is the building’s porter,” he bit his lip, and cuddled in the couch. Alfred seemed to hesitate, but joined him. Arthur concluded he must’ve enjoyed seeing him angry rather than depressed.

“It’s only been a bad day, Art.”

“At the end of a bad month,” Arthur sighed, and took another sip of his beer. “I work hard and then, once I am given a break, I get sad because I don’t have anyone to spend it with. I can’t even go to my relatives’ house because they always remind me of how alone I am,” when he looked up, he saw Alfred’s expression shift, and figured he must’ve been crying. Alfred seemed to find a certain comfort in his misery, because he began talking about himself too.

“They all think I am worth nothing. They think I’m inferior and they bark orders without even looking me in the face. I… I suppose I’ve taken it on you because I know you won’t tell Ludwig.”

“I’m sorry,” said Arthur. “You don’t deserve that.”

“You don’t either,” was Alfred’s reply. They stared at each other. Alfred looked as if he feared to blink and the magic would disappear when, suddenly, Arthur stepped on his lap. And, before any of them could fathom how, they were kissing, so intensely Arthur thought he’d pass out with how fast his heart was beating.

*

“Fuck,” Alfred sighed as he exited the ecstasy, and the intoxicating warmth Arthur gave him. Arthur didn’t say anything, although his efforts to catch his breath told Alfred everything he needed to know. Alfred was naked, but he didn’t felt the need to cover himself, and instead rolled until Arthur’s side to lick his neck.

“Oh, God, I’m in heaven…” Arthur sighed. Alfred smiled, although he felt a certain frustration of having to wait until they could do it again.

“You have a cigarette?”

“Uh? You’re not going to smoke in my  bed,” Arthur said, in a manner that had lost all the sweetness from before.

“Oh, come on. What’s with you, dude? You also smoke.”

“Because my life is awful. You still have hope, darling,” Alfred clicked his tongue, feeling how his state of calmness he’d managed to find with Arthur was slowly disappearing. Freaking Arthur Kirkland couldn’t hold a nice evening, it seemed. Alfred started to dress up.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m leaving.”

“Oh, well. Leave, I don’t care.”

“Then don’t ask,” Alfred was buttoning his uniform as fast as he could while he picked the garments left in the living room. Arthur followed him, covering himself with a bathrobe that unfortunately highlighted his figure. Alfred tried not to look at him.

“Don’t tell your father,” Arthur warned.  Alfred felt even worse, and gritted his teeth.

“Don’t worry; I don’t tend to talk to my father about who I fuck,” he said. “Although I’ve heard you’ve been nominated for the award of the Best Friend of the Year, haven’t you?”

“It was a moment of weakness. I’d let anyone fuck me.”

“Me too,” Alfred prepared to leave, although he stopped just before. He looked at Arthur from the corner of his eye, and found the Englishman bluntly staring at him. “Do you —Do you know how you’ll spend Christmas in the end?”

Arthur looked taken aback, but he ended up answering nonetheless.

“I might go to a party with Francis, if I ever leave my flat at all,” then again, the mention of his father made him anxious. Alfred was sure it was the same for Arthur too. Despite how everyone —including Arthur— often chose to speak in how different Alfred was from his father, he figured Arthur couldn’t help to notice their similarities now.

Once Alfred left, Arthur almost fell on his couch. He decided in fixing himself a cup of tea to control his nerves, when he heard a knock at the door. Arthur attended, cautiously, and the image of Ivan Braginsky at the other side of his room didn’t seem to calm him down.

“Hello, Arthur.”

“Ah, Ivan. How are you? Do you —erm, do you need something?”

“I only wanted to talk, Arthur. We talked a lot before. Do you remember when you used to teach me English?” Arthur nodded slightly. “I have to admit I chose you because I loved your voice. I’ve always loved it. But now I sense it husky. Now that —oh, Arthur, my poor friend— how could you stoop so low?” Arthur felt his blood freeze, and he gulped. It couldn’t be. Oh, dear lord, it couldn’t be…

“This building’s walls are very thin, Arthur,” said Ivan. “I admit that I was surprised in the beginning. After all, I took you for something more than a slave of your needs, but I should thank you: this twist of events has made things much more interesting. In the end, I don’t believe you’d like Mr. Bonnefoy to know how you’ve —oh, how I put it? Abused his trust?” the whole scene appeared to amuse his neighbour, which put Arthur at ease. They exchanged glances and, after some minutes, and decided to speak.

“Do you want a date? Is that it?” But Ivan’s hysterical laugh told him that wouldn’t be the answer.

“Oh, Arthur, no no. You don’t understand. If we do that, the game’s over. I don’t want your body, I’m not going to buy your silence. I thrive the power—and, quite frankly, having the control over you makes this so much more stimulant,” Ivan gave him a crooked smile, and Arthur suddenly lamented being alone in the hallway with him.

“What do you want, then?” Ivan went through his pockets, and took a brown collar with a bell. He handed it to Arthur.

“Firstly, I want you to wear this” he said. “It used to be of my dog, but I believe it will fit you just right. You’ll wear it all the time,” his tone turned more strict. “And you’ll come to the Vargas’ Christmas dinner. My mother, poor ill woman, seems to thing I need a girlfriend to accompany me to the party. But I’ll assure her I only need my dear British dog. Do you understand me?” Arthur nodded, fearing to say anything, and Ivan fondled his lip, pressing his nails so much Arthur thought he’d break the flesh. “Good night, Arthur.”

When Arthur entered his room again, he couldn’t stop thinking of how fucked he was. And, when he couldn’t remember a time he’d seen Ivan having a pet, he shuddered thinking of what was about to come.

*

Alfred couldn’t stop thinking about him.

It was strange, though foreseeable. Despite his looks, Alfred didn’t have much experience in the topics of seduction. After all, his job took most of his time, and he had considered the neighbours as untouchables until this moment. It was strange to think about it, especially when Arthur was involved. Casual sex shouldn’t have been so complicated, but Alfred knew he had already broke up all the rules related to it. You weren’t supposed to leave in the same building, and Alfred was sure it wasn’t supposed to involve one party knowing the other’s parent. Sex was complicated and Alfred felt that, as the night passed, he was going mad. But the worst part, that was, that Alfred didn’t even know if that had been a bad thing after all.

Finally, he got up and began cleaning the floors. Kiku came over and sighed tiredly, declaring he had been going on strike but that it hadn’t been effective at all. Alfred was about to explain him how strikes worked there but, as he saw the oldies from 1st flat A join their conversation he lost the energy. Feliciano Vargas was there, too, and looked as nervous as the day before, although a few whispers by Gilbert’s side appeared to comfort him. Alfred stood there, mopping the floor for his day while half-listening to their rambling, until he saw Arthur walking towards the portal. Alfred frowned, and thought about commenting on the fact that he hadn’t seen him leave, when he stopped and concluded Arthur probably would’ve avoided him. However, as Arthur came closer, Alfred rushed to the portal’s door, opening it before the other. As Arthur walked through the door, he looked at Alfred with his eyebrows raised.

“You’re one hell of a gentleman,” he finally said, after locking eyes for what appeared to be centuries. Alfred laughed, almost hysterically, and rubbed the back of his head while trying to gain his composure. He just wanted to apologise but he knew the others would be listening, and he felt frustration building upon his figure.

“Are you— I mean, after all— Are you coming to the Vargas’ dinner?” Arthur nodded, and turned to look at the others, who replied too. Within seconds, Alfred heard thumps coming from the stairs, and tilted his head to face Ivan Braginsky stepping to the lodge, in a lively pace.

“Arthur,” Ivan came to his side, and pulled Arthur in an embrace. Gilbert arched his eyebrows with an amused smile, while Antonio murmured something and Alfred bluntly stared at the scene before him. “I’m glad you liked the necklace,” his big hands tinkled the jingle bel while Arthur appeared to shudder because of the coldness of the hands. “It was a good gift: now I can always know when you’re close.”

“Arthur, is everything all right?” Alfred wished Arthur would say that no, it wasn’t right for Ivan to touch him so much, and that please, Alfred, be my hero, I love you, oh Alfred, let’s fuck like bunnies because we love each other and I can’t get pregnant, but instead he found Arthur nodding while looking in his direction.

“Don’t worry, Al. It’s fine. We’ll… see each other this night, in —in the dinner, I believe,” he said. He started to walk the stairs with that Russian creep following him. As they were out of sight and the conversation started again, Alfred’s stomach started to sink. The only reason why Braginsky had walked down the stairs in the first place had been to escort Arthur, or whatever the hell he had in mind.

*

“I want you to sniff my scarf as soon as Alfred walks into the room until I give it to you,” said Ivan, once he invited Arthur into his house. Arthur noticed the room was cold, and Ivan didn’t seem to make any motion to turn on the lights, which made the scene more strange. Ivan seemed to have grown familiar with barking orders, as he had already spent half of the day with his phone buzzing with ridiculous requests his neighbour had given him.

Arthur bit his lip. “Why do you hate him so much? We already agreed that I would help you with—” at that moment, Ivan covered Arthur’s mouth with his hands. Arthur tried to struggle, but it was useless. Ivan’s pupils looked dilated, and Arthur worried his own heart would escape his chest.

“Mother is close. You do not disturb her,” Ivan said, without letting him go. Arthur nodded frantically, and Ivan smiled as if he was flattered. Soon enough he let go, and his arm blocked the entrance of the flat.

Arthur feared if his teeth would begin clenching if he didn’t say something. “I just —ah, I said —I don’t think it’s necessary to involve Alfred in all this.”

“Alfred became involved in all this when he decided to put it in you,” Arthur couldn’t help to blush at Ivan’s words. Ivan gritted his teeth. “You won’t talk to Alfred for the rest of the day. Not the dinner, nor whatever perverted dream you might have. Am I clear?”

“I honestly don’t know why you hate Alfred so much,” Arthur said. By the look of Ivan’s eyes, he knew he shouldn’t have said that, but Ivan replied nonetheless.

“Haven’t you seen this man? It is the filth of the building. He’s nothing, neither is he good at anything other than acting as if he’s entitled to anything. He walks over the lodge as if he owns the place, smiling and chuckling at everyone he crosses his path with. He is like a child; a selfish, spoiled child, and for some reason everyone seems to humour him. I used to watch him every day —mother said I shouldn’t do it, but I couldn’t be a good boy, I couldn’t— couldn’t stop looking at him,” Arthur was staring at him wide eyed, but dared not to move away. Ivan continued. “Then I saw you confronting him and I— oh, Arthur, I was so glad you did it. Me and mother chuckled our heads off that day,” Arthur opened his mouth to correct his expression, but decided to remain quiet in a better judgement. “I knew you’d understand me. But then he— he put his paws on you! Oh, you little lion, he played you and I— I felt like you failed me. But it doesn’t matter now, because I am the one deciding. I’ll make sure you stay out of this evil yankee way, Arthur, yes I will,” he paused again. He looked at Arthur from head to toe, and Arthur could swear he saw his eyes glow. “Wear that green sweater of yours tonight, and the tightest jeans you own,” he said, and silence struck the room. Arthur mumbled a reply, and found Ivan was still staring at him. Arthur couldn’t breath.

“Erm, I— I believe I have to water my plants. May I —May I go, Ivan?” he gestured Ivan’s arm that still blocked the way. Ivan slowly put his arm away.

“You can go,” he said. Before Arthur could leave, however, he heard Ivan say something else. “I believe you should bear in mind I will have a talk with the yankee if I don’t see you there. If you happen to get lost by watering the plants, that is,” Arthur gulped and, once he left the house, let the goosebumps roam through his body. HE didn’t want to stay in the building anymore, so he decided he’d take a walk before preparing himself for the dinner, with the intention of avoiding thinking about the matter for as long as he could, as well as his sudden urge to hold Alfred.  What was wrong with him? He was the one been threatened, blackmailed or— Arthur wasn’t sure he even wanted to know— and he was thinking of him, that —that man who had made it clear for him that he thought everything had been a mistake. It was ridiculous, more than that even. It was delusional.

*

“Oh, my god, oh my god. Tino, my friend, come here!” Francis spoke from the other flat. Tino marched toward him, and Francis let him look through the peephole.

“—That Arthur?”

“Yes!”

“Leaving…  Braginsky’s… house?” Tino looked puzzled. “What could he be there for? Does he— are we out of sugar or something?”

Francis stared at him blankly for a couple of seconds, until Tino’s expression changed.

“You don’t think he’s the one Arthur is—?”

“Oh, of course he is!” Francis jumped to the couch in an excited manner. “Those pants we found must’ve been from someone as tall as him, non? Oh and— and the colours, Tino! We knew that russkie was proud of his country, so proud that of course he would have underwear of the colours from his flag! I told you none of my lovers had left them here!” Tino nodded repeatedly, raising his arms so Francis would stop bouncing.

“I know, I know. I apologise, but what could I think? Arthur’s so— I can’t believe it, he and creepy Braginsky…”

“We always knew our cher Arthur had a bizarre taste for lovers,” Francis covered his face as he chuckled loudly. “You know what we are going to do. Don’t you, Tino?”

“Hmm?”

Francis turned to look at him: his eyes lit with both malice and amusement. “We’re going to the Vargas’ Christmas dinner, mon ami.”

*

Rudolph the red nose reindeer had a very shiny nose and if you ever saw it you would even say it glows…

“Shit, do we really need to listen to Christmas carols all the evening?” Gilbert complained stretching his hair. Antonio clicked his tongue.

“It’s Christmas, this shit’s time. Don’t make drama out of it.”

“Oh, you shut up. You’re so bitter since Lovi dumped you.”

“Hey, I was bitter before too,” he said, when Tino and Francis sat next to them. “Oh, you look at them. The good and the bad boy. Where’s the ugly?”

Francis smirked. “I take he’ll come soon. Oh, look, Tino! The seats are assigned!” he gestured the signs next to every chair, and proceeded to change Arthur’s.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Gilbert said as he saw Francis put the sign next to Ivan’s. Francis gave him a sardonic smile, and exchanged a look with Tino, who nodded briefly. When the couple of the night had arrived, Ivan smiled and pulled Arthur from his sleeve towards their sits. Alfred came in not much later.

“Alfred, cher, how are you?” his father kissed his cheeks, but Alfred’s eyes were focused on Arthur, at the opposite side of the table. Arthur seemed to ignore him awkwardly, which made Alfred stare at him with more intensity. Francis catched it up, although he didn’t seem to pick on Alfred’s real intentions. “Ah, you’ve seen it too. Our dear Arthur, as pure as Virgin Mary, has a boytoy. ‘s strange to think about it, isn’t it?”

“You’re making this up. Poor oldies are senile, you shouldn’t listen to them.”

“Oh, but we saw,” Tino hunched his body towards Alfred. “They entered Ivan’s flat really close, and then we saw Arthur leave more breathless than that time he thought there was a ghost in the house,” the pair snickered. “Oh, yes! And they were whispering —like two lovers, arranging their next “secret” meeting. And Gil says he saw Ivan giving Arthur this necklace that he’s wearing now.”

Alfred didn’t even want to look. He felt sick, and just wanted to take Arthur from Ivan’s sight. Was he being selfish? Alfred knew he was, especially the more he thought about his attitude the day before. Alfred sighed: he’d been wanting to apologise to him and his guilt seemed to burn his insides.

And now they were there, and Alfred couldn’t help to think that Arthur was wearing that sweater that hightlighted his figure so much, exposing it at whatever things Ivan Braginsky was thinking on doing to him.

“Hello, where is Ludwig?” Feli interrupted his thoughts. He sat next to Alfred, carrying what looked like a present with him. “I had— I had a surprise for him.”

“He told me he’d be coming,” said Gilbert, and patted Feli on the back. Roman walked to the table carrying a dish of roasted lamb and potatoes.

“Well,” said Roman, “I believe we should start eating now. I’ll leave the door open if anyone else wants to come,” but, just before anyone could taste the Vargas’ dinner, a certainly disheveled Ludwig Beilschmdt stormed into the room.

“Feliciano, I want to break up with you.”

“What?!” Feli stood up, with his face red and eyes that looked as if he’d been punched.

“What the fuck are you talking about, brother?” said Gilbert. Ludwig looked daggers at him while walking towards them.

“You shut up! This is all your fault! You couldn’t stand the fact that I was happy, could you! You just had to steal my boyfriend!”

“What is he talking about?” murmured Alfred.

“Oh my god! Are you an item?” Francis exclaimed, but Ludwig ignored him and, before anyone could stop him, he threw himself upon his brother. Soon enough, they started wrestling in the living room, while Feli and Antonio tried to separate them. At the same time, the Christmas carols were interrupted by presumably rude German idioms. Francis looked between them, amused to the bone.

“And there was I thinking the cherry on top would be Arthur’s new boyfriend,” immediately, Arthur made a sound as if he’d just choked with his drink, and opened his eyes wide.

“Did you tell them?!” he spit out, glaring at Ivan, and the neighbours whistled by the revelation.

“What did you do to him?!” Alfred yelled. “You’re sick! I don’t know what you’ve done to Arthur to convince him of this, but I’m not going to allow you taking advantage of him.”

“What are you talking about?” Ivan seemed to challenge him. “I think the only one who’s taken advantage of Arthur is you,” with the last statement, Alfred jumped to their side and grabbed Ivan by the collar. He pushed him to the floor, while Ivan kicked his legs as hard as he could. Ludwig and Gilbert were still fighting, silencing the uncontrolled cries of Feli. Alfred punched Ivan as hard as he could, while he was sure Ivan pretended to kill him right there. As soon as he scratched Alfred’s neck, Ivan freed himself from the grip  and yelled something that could be heard across the whole building.

“Arthur and Alfred had sex yesterday!”

“What?!” for the first time of the night, the playful smile Francis had been wearing was gone. Tino grabbed him, but Francis tried to escape by kicking the air. “Let me go! Sacre bleu! Arthur Kirkland! I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you, fils de pute!”

Sitting in one of the dinner’s chairs, godfather Roman cursed between his teeth.

“I just wanted a normal Christmas eve,” he murmured.

*

“So,” the police officer broke the silence, looking through his notebook, “You wanted to give your boyfriend a paint of you but he thought you were cheating on him?” Feliciano nodded, and Ludwig looked down in shame. “All right, that’s clear. You can go,” he said, and they both left the flat. Ivan left with them after being asked by the other officer, and offered the couple they could clean themselves on his house, as it had more towels.

“But don’t go into the room,” he warned playfully, following them to their path.

Gilbert was on the ambulance, complaining about how his perfect nose would be crooked thanks to his brother’s stubbornness.

“And you…” the officer looked at Arthur, “You screwed your friend’s son, who’s also the building’s porter,  and accepted go to the Christmas Eve’s dinner with your neighbour, who hates your friend’s son, if he would keep the secret?” When confronted with the absurdness of his plan, Arthur couldn’t help to nod. “Man, you’re an asshole.”

“I know. I’ll talk to my flatmate about it.”

“Then I’d do it soon; we’ve given him a couple of tranquilizers,” the officer gestured towards Francis, who sung French carols while remained lied down on the Vargas’ couch. “Is there something else? I mean, we’re normally used to some kind of conflict in Christmas Eve, but this is by far the worst,” he said before leaving. Alfred, who was putting himself ice on his left eye, inched closer as Arthur finished his statement.

“You accepted to be with that creep just to protect me?”

“It wasn’t just for you; I also didn’t want Francis to kill me,” Arthur fumed, and saw Alfred looking at him from the corner of his eye. “What?”

“Cut the crap, Arthur. We’ve gone through everything that could be wrong in a relationship without having one. Don’t you think it’s a signal?”

“A signal to what?”

“A signal to be together,” Alfred spoke fast. He breathed in, as if to gather strength. “Oh, Arthur, this days have been hectic. I’m —I’m sorry for what I did, I didn’t know what to do and then I saw that you were with Ivan and I… I didn’t know what to think. I tried to don’t care but… But I care, and I want to care, Arthur. I think I like you,” Alfred said. Arthur’s face seemed to heat. “Do you think we might try to work it out?”

Arthur stared at him intently, as if he was thinking about his options. After some time, he took the necklace off and, once he was free, smiled at Alfred.

“I don’t know, Alfred, but I do think you’re smart enough to know we’re under mistletoe and I want to kiss you very, very much.”

[bazypitchandsimonsnow]

Office Crush

Rating: T

Genre: Fluff and light angst

Word Count: 4385

CW: Alcohol

Summary: Baz has been pining after his boss' son for ages. Office crushes are just the worst, huh? Based on "a kiss given to the wrong person" request.

Read on AO3

AN: Sorry this took so long! I've had some bad writer's block but I think I've kicked it. Hope you all enjoy some pining angsty Baz :D

Baz

Most people despise their jobs. I count myself lucky that I mostly enjoy it. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t have it’s... disadvantages. One particular disadvantage actually. And he eats far too many cherry scones.

Mage & Associates is a very recent financial firm. It was started by David Mage (definitely not his real last name) and practically exploded. Now they manage the money of companies across the UK. I feel lucky to work here, despite my mother and father’s personal dislike of Mr. Mage. (Some old feud I really don’t care about.) What I didn’t expect was for Mr. Mage to have a loud, obnoxious, devastatingly handsome son.

I’m sitting at my desk, trying to finish another report, when someone crashes into the chair next to me.

“Hey how’s it going Bazzy?” he says, scone crumbs around his mouth.

“I told you not to call me that,” I mutter.

Simon hangs his head back with a groan, bronze curls falling back over the chair. “God why are you always so serious?”

“One of my last names is Grimm.” I brush some crumbs off my desk. “Why are you bothering me, Salisbury? I actually have work to do. Unlike you.”

“I have work! I’m just taking a cherry scone break. Want some?” Simon rips off a piece of his sour cherry scone and shoves it in my face. I swat his hand away.

“If you did your job with the same enthusiasm shown in your pastry eating, this company’s work would halved.”

He juts out his bottom lip. God why does he have to be so adorable when pouts? It’s maddening. My resolve almost falters. “You’re always so mean, Pitch.”

“‘Still so constant, lord.’”

“Pfft! Only you would insult me with Shakespeare.” I turn to stare at him. “Yes, I know Shakespeare. I went through the same school system as you.”

“You’re just full of surprises, Salisbury, I’ll say that.”

Simon grins. He has a very beautiful smile. I picture it in my head at least twice a day. “Thank you for that sort of compliment, Baz. Now,” he claps a hand over my shoulder (I try to ignore the jolt of sensation that runs through my arm), “I’m going to do your oh so beloved work. See ya later.”

He walks off with a little skip in his step. I lean slightly out of my cubicle, just watching him move, and sigh under my breath. God I’m pathetic. What am I, a bloody teenager? Here I am, 25 years old, with a bloody crush. This is my daily routine. Salisbury comes to my desk, I insult him because I’m too nervous to do anything else, and then I watch him longingly like a pining idiot. It’s my own personal hell.

“You’re so obvious, mate.”

“Gah!” I nearly jump out of my chair. I turn to glare at Niall, who’s leaning his head over my dingy grey cubicle wall.

“For fuck’s sake, Niall,” I huff, “give a man some warning.”

“Sorry for not announcing my presence while you were ogling Mage Jr’s arse.”

I look down, hoping to hide my blush. “I wasn’t ogling his arse...”

“Alright, casually observing his backside. That more appropriate?”

“Oh shut up.”

Niall makes his way to stand at the entrance, leaning against the side. I don’t look over in fear of seeing his definitely judging expression.

“How long have are you gonna keep pining after Salisbury and do absolutely nothing?”

“That is none of your business.”

“Um, it is if I have to keep suffering through your annoying infatuation. Every day I hear you two make jabs at each other, then listen to you whine about how hot he is and how he’s probably straight. C’mon Baz, just ask him out.”

I hunker down at my desk. Of course Niall doesn’t get it. When you spend years in the closet, crushes are hard enough as is. But crushing on your boss’ son? That’s a bloody minefield. What if he rejects me? What if he freaks out and tells his father? What if he just, never talks to me again?

“No,” I say flatly.

Niall just sighs. I can hear the exasperation just in his breath. “Fine, whatever. Just ogle his arse for the rest of your life.”

“I was not ogling!”

Christmas time rolls around very quickly. The office is decorated in horrendously bright reds and greens. Some of my more enthusiastic co-workers are wearing antlers or Santa hats. And we all know who the most enthusiastic man on the planet is.

“Ho ho ho! Happy Christmas one and all!” Simon shouts, bursting into our floor in a red hat.

Everyone claps. Except me. I just keep staring at my monitor instead of him.

“Now I’d like to cordially invite all of you to Mage & Associates’ annual Christmas party. There will be tunes, there will be booze, and there will be holiday cheer!” They erupt in whoops and hollers. (God, sometimes it’s like working in an American frat house.) “This Friday, floor 8, 9:00. Hope to see you all there!”

My overly excited coworkers give a last cheer. I wander up to see Simon bows extravagantly, the little pom-pom of his hat falling forward. I look back at my computer with it’s comforting emotionless numbers.

“So,” Simon’s voice rings in my ear, “you coming, Baz?” Of course he has to come sit next to my desk. Why does this man insist on torturing me?

I snort. “What do you think?”

He throws his arms on my desk and leans his chin on them. “I think you’re a ginourmous stick in the mud, with an even bigger stick up your arse. So you’ll be skipping it. Like a total Scrooge.”

“I’m not a Scrooge. I’d just prefer to not watch my co-workers drunkenly sing Christmas carols.”

Simon throws his arms up for effect. “But that’s the best part! People having fun, getting into the Christmas spirit.” He knocks my arm with his fist. “C’mon, Grimm-Pitch. Loosen up a bit.”

My eyes flick over to his. His sunshine grin makes my heart stutter. Fuck, I’m weak. I sigh and shake my head.

“Fine, I’ll come to the party.”

He squeals and claps. (It’s adorable.) “Awesome! Make sure to wear something festive.”

I raise an eyebrow. “What counts as festive, Salisbury?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. Something green, something red, something red and green? If you own anything that’s not grey or black.”

I glare at him. “Very well. I’ll find something... festive.”

“Awesome!” He stands up, hands on his hips. “Can’t wait to see you there, Baz.”

He walks away again, but I don’t stare. All I can do is replay his words in my head. He can’t wait to see me, he can’t wait to see me . Dear lord, I have to stop over analyzing.

Salisbury is wrong. I do own something “festive”. A simple pine green button down shirt. I think my mother made me buy it because she had the same concern about my penchant for monochrome suits. (I wear colour, just not a lot)

The party decorations are nuts. Tinsel is strung up on every light fixture. Paper Santas are taped to the wall. A giant Christmas tree covered in sparkly ornaments is in the corner. Everyone is dancing and/or drinking. However, I am against a wall, deciding whether to roll my sleeves back up or leave them down. I can’t figure out which looks better.

“Oh my god, stop fidgeting!”

I turn to see Niall, holding two cups of eggnog. He hands one to me. “I’m not fidgeting.”

“Your shirt is fine . You are fine . Now stop picking at your damn shirt and try to have fun.” He raises up his glass. “Happy Christmas, Baz.”

I sigh, and clink (more like clunk) our plastic cups together. “Happy Christmas, Niall.”

We both take big sips and look out into the crowd. People are dancing and jumping to the remixed Christmas carols. Salisbury’s out there somewhere, I think. I haven’t seen him yet though. I know I shouldn’t be nervous (of course he’s going to be here) but my stomach is like a swirling thunderstorm.

“Are you going to dance?” Niall asks.

“I don’t know. Maybe,” I mumble, drinking more eggnog.

Niall chuckles. “Hey, that girl is wearing the same shirt as you.”

I look where he’s pointing, which is seemingly at Penelope Bunce, the purple haired woman in accounting who’s friends with Simon. She’s jumping around happily. We exchange witty banter in the break room constantly.

“Niall, what do you mean ‘that girl’? That’s Bunce. And she’s wearing a dress.”

Niall shakes his head. “No no, not Penelope. The blonde one next to her.”

I tilt my head head, then I see her. She’s dancing just behind Bunce and I have no clue who she is. (Guess she’s someone’s friend or date.) She is very pretty and very blonde, hair long and bouncing with the beat. Niall is right, sadly. We are wearing similar green button downs. Her’s is a woman’s version though. Still, I’m wearing the same shirt as someone else.

“Shit,” I groan. “Someone call the bloody fashion police to arrest me.”

“Oh stop it, it’s not that bad. C’mon, let’s dance!”

I sigh. “You go. I’ll join later.”

“Fine. Stand here, being a stiff. Simon will love that.”

I give Niall one long glare as he goes to the makeshift dance floor. He’s right though. I’m a total stiff who doesn’t know how to have fun. What the hell would Simon see in me?

“Baz! You came!”

Speak of the Devil, Simon comes rushing towards me. He’s wearing a ridiculously ugly bright red Christmas sweater. (Rudolph with a sparkly pom pom nose? My god.) The flush in his cheeks tells me he’s had more than one cup of eggnog. He swings an arm around my shoulders, making me tense up more than I’d like.

“Well I said I would, didn’t I?” I say as calmly as I can.

He rolls his eyes lazily. “Well yeaaaaah. But I wasn’t sure you were gonna show up. But you did! Which I’m very happy about.”

My cheeks almost flush as red as his. “Happy to be here, Salisbury.”

“Please, you should call me Simon. We’re all friends here!’

My heart tightens, nearly breaking. Of course we’re just friends. What else should I have expected? I shift uncomfortably and look down. “Yeah of course. We’re all, friends...”

“Let’s go dance!” He tugs roughly on my sleeve. Maybe I’m finally feeling confident, or maybe it’s the look on Simon’s face, or maybe it’s the eggnog. But despite my better judgement, I go with him.

Whoever picked this music (probably Simon) has terrible taste. Dubstep jingle bells? I move slightly to the beat. Salisbury jumps up and down, pumping his fist in the air. The multicoloured lights catch in his hair. God, how can it sparkle like that?

He reaches forward to lazily drape an arm across my shoulder, pulling us closer together. My heart threatens to beat out of my chest. Tolerating his presence so close to mine during work is hard enough. Now there’s less than half a foot between us. I can see his every beautiful mole, every glint in his blue eyes, every flash of that gorgeous grin. It’s almost more than I can stand, but like hell if I’m going to waste this opportunity.

I cautiously place my hands on his hips. Just lightly touching the material of his stupid jumper. He doesn’t shove me away. Instead, Salisbury lets his other arm fall on me. He smiles at me lazily, then pulls himself forward until I can feel his hot alcohol laced breath on my ear.

“You having fun Baz?” He whispers, making me shudder.

“Yeah,” I reply shakily under my breath.

“Good.”

He moves his hips back and forth under my grip. We’re so close I can feel every shift. I’m surprised my brain hasn’t exploded yet. Simon Salisbury is dancing with me. He’s almost dancing on me. Our bodies are so close together. It’s everything I’ve ever wanted. It’s intoxicating.

It’s too much.

I pull away. Simon looks at me confused.

“I’m uh, thirsty,” I say weakly. “I’m gonna get more eggnog. Want some?”

He smiles drunkenly. “Sure.”

I power walk away, trying to catch my breath. God what was that? I haven’t danced like that since my club cruising phase in first year uni. And I’m not a bloody teenager anymore! I shouldn’t be doing this, especially with a co-worker, especially with my boss’ son. But... it felt so damn good. I finally had Simon so close to me, the way I’ve wanted for months. Sadly, I’m a stupid coward, who is scared of his own feelings.

I put my hands on he eggnog table and hang my head. I’m such an idiot. I just threw away my chance. Maybe that was Simon’s way of telling me he has feelings too. And maybe I can fix it.

I pour two red cups full of eggnog, and turn to look for him. My eyes catch on an annoyingly red sweater wobbling around. With my nerves steeled, I walk towards him.

I’m a only few feet away when I see it. Simon, under that damned mistletoe, snogging the blonde woman I saw earlier.

I almost drop the cups. If my heart nearly broke before, it’s certainly breaking now. I fucked it up, like I fuck everything up. I ran away and he found someone better. A normal person would scream or cry or something idiotic like that. But I’m Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch, dammit. So I just calmly turn around and walk away.

“Hey man,” Niall says as I pass him, “where are you going?”

“Home,” I reply coldly.

“Really? Why?”

“Because I want to alright?!” I snarl at him. He looks very taken aback. It’s not fair to him. I sigh and look down. “Sorry. Just, something happened and I really want to go back to my flat and be miserable, alright?”

Niall’s eyes soften. I think he knows it’s something to do with Salisbury, but he’s not going to say anything. (Good man.) He puts a hand on my shoulder. “Alright, mate. Have a good night.”

“You too.”

I grab my coat and make my way out of the building. I try not to think about everything, but my self destructive mind keeps pulling me back. How could I be so stupid? Of course Simon doesn’t feel the same. I’m a cold, mean, asshole coward who’s too scared to talk to him without sarcastic insults. The dancing meant nothing. He was drunk off his ass. He probably didn’t even realise what he was doing.

The second I get home, I’m going to open a bag of salt and vinegar crisps and feel sorry for myself for exactly one hour. Then I’ll move on. Hopefully.

I try to avoid my desk all of Monday. I do my work in the kitchen, or the lounge, or anywhere else that isn’t my cubicle. If Salisbury can’t find me, I don’t have to talk to him. Yes, I have adopted the logic of a toddler trying to avoid bedtime, but I have few other options.

I’m sitting in the breakroom for lunch, which I never do. Luckily no one else does either. There are far too many much nicer cafe for them to go to. Which leaves me alone with just my thoughts and chicken sandwich. A whole weekend later and I’m still thinking about that party. Dancing with my crush, then watching him kiss a girl under the mistletoe. Maybe that was his girlfriend. I know she doesn’t work here. That’d make sense. But then why was he dancing with me earlier? To mess with my head?

“Baz?”

That voice snaps me out of my thoughts. I look away and will my face from turning beet red.

“Hello, Salisbury,” I mutter.

Simon walks over to me and sits across. I regrettably look up slightly, only to see him in that grey suit he always looks stunning in. Fuck me, I’m screwed.

“What are you doing here? I’ve never seen you eat in the breakroom before.”

“I don’t usually.” Keeping my words brief almost keeps my blush from appearing.

He pulls out one of those blasted scones and munches loudly. “I, uh,” he says with mouth still full, “went to your desk this morning. You weren’t there.”

“You must’ve missed me.”

“Oh. I just uh, haven’t seen you since the party. You kinda disappeared.”

I scoff slightly, and say something despite my better judgement. “Didn’t really enjoy watching you snog your girlfriend. PDA is disgusting.”

His brow furrows, but in confusion rather than anger. “Girlfriend? What the hell are you talking about?”

What the hell is he talking about?! My blood is almost boiling. He can at least own up to it like a decent person. “That blonde girl you were kissing under the mistletoe. Who else?”

Simon hangs his head with a loud groan. “Ugh you saw that? Fuck.” He looks up with an apologetic expression. “That was Agatha. She’s not my girlfriend. I mean, we dated when we were 15, but of course that was a long time ago. Really, we’re just old friends. Her, Penny and me all went to school together. She lives in California now and we barely see each other. But she’s back in town for Christmas so I invited her to the party. For old time's sake.”

“Is that why you kissed her? For old time's sake?” Crap, I hope I don’t sound too defensive.

"No! Of course not..." He starts picking at his nails (a nervous habit I've noticed.) “Well, um, you see, this is embarrassing, but I can’t hold my liquor very well. And I saw her under the mistletoe and my drunken brain thought she was... someone else.” He turns bright red this time. Shit, Simon has a his own stupid crush. Guess we’re not that different after all.

I scoff again. It keeps me from totally losing my cool. “What, thought she was some other blonde? You must have a type.” I can’t avoid the nervous timbre of my voice near the end.

He shakes his head vigorously and looks away. “No, uh actually... I saw the green shirt, and for a second, I thought she was... you...”

I blink rapidly. My mind goes completely blank, and my heart just stops. I’m a hurricane of thoughts and emotions, trying to process his words. He thought it was me? Does that mean he wanted to kiss me? Me? As I’m going through this crisis, I don’t realise I’m staring blankly at a very confused Simon.

“Um, Baz?” he says, waving a hand.

With a head shake, I come back to reality. “Sorry. Did you just say, you thought it was me under the mistletoe?”

Simon keeps picking at his nails. “I, uh, yeah... look Baz, I know I should've said something before. I’ve been meaning to ask you out. But, you’re just so cool and stuff and I’m not! I-I can’t bloody think around you, let alone ask you on a date. I took a shot with the dance at the party, which seemed to go great. So when I saw the mistletoe I was like ‘hey, why not?’ But then Agatha pushed me off and you were gone. I realised I'd really lost my chance.” He starts running a hand through his curls, pulling at them nervously. “I’m really sorry for dumping this all on you. You don’t have to like me back. I’d understand. I mean, who’d want to go out with someone as weird as me?”

I can’t believe it. He’s just as nervous, shy, and awkward as me. Maybe even more so. He’s a fucking tragedy. He couldn’t be a bigger mess. We match.

I bring my chair around so we’re sitting side by side. I take his shaking hand in mine. He turns to me with wide blue eyes.

“So,” I say, “if you had kissed me, how would you have done it?”

Simon’s mouth falls open slightly. It’s his turn to stare blankly at me. “What?”

“If it really had been me under the mistletoe, how would you have kissed me?”

“I-I, uh... I’m not good with words.”

I reach out and cup his cheek. “Then why don’t you just show me?”

After a brief stare, he grabs my collar and smashes his mouth against mine. It’s a total mess (my teeth nearly cut his lips) but I really don’t care. He’s soft and warm, just like I always thought. I grab the other side of his face, bringing us closer. He grips my shirt like he never wants to let go. We move together fervently at first, all heat and passion. Our tongues and lips battle like two over eager teenagers. But bit by bit, it slows into long, languid kisses. My head is swimming. This is all I’ve ever wanted, and all I want from now on.

We pull away only when we’re out of breath. Simon is flushed all the way down to his neck. I move to hold his shoulders, but he doesn’t release my shirt.

“So,” he sighs, “this silly crush I have isn’t so one sided?”

I chuckle under my breath. “No. Hasn’t been for months.”

He lightly slaps my shoulder. “Thanks for telling me, prick.”

“Well you were the one who kissed your ex in front of me!”

“That was an accident!”

We fall into fits of laughter. His forehead falls against my shoulder. I wrap my arms around him. Slowly we calm down. But I keep holding him, revelling in the feeling of us being so close. He smells wonderful, like cinnamon and sour cherry scones.

“Are we boyfriends now?” He says into my shirt.

I giggle, stroking his hair. “I think we should go on a proper date first, Salisbury.”

He pulls back with one eyebrow raised. “You know, if we’re gonna date, you should probably call me by my first name.”

I frown childishly. “But that feels weird. I’ve always called you Salisbury.”

Simon shakes his head with a smile. “Fine, you big baby.” He plays with the lapel of my suit jacket absentmindedly (I love it). “Well, as a compromise, you could always use my middle name. Though it’s absolutely ridiculous.”

“Oh now you have to tell me!” (I’m far too excited about something so trivial.)

He chews his lips, then sighs. “It’s Snow. Simon Snow Salisbury.”

I bark out a loud laugh, making him frown. He looks down at the floor.

“Oh shut up,” he mutters. “Blame my Mum. She chose it.”

“No no no,” I say, tilting his chin up so we’re eye to eye. “It’s a fine middle name, love. It’s absolutely great.” He still looks upset, gorgeous face all pinched together. “Alright, just so we’re even, I’ll tell you my first name.” Now he looks interested (I’m going to regret this.) “My full name is Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch.”

Snow erupts in giggles. I’d be pissed if he didn’t look so damn beautiful when he laughs. He crushes his face into my shoulder, letting me feel every laugh induced sob. “Oh my god,” he sputters, “and I thought my parents hated me!”

“It’s a Pitch family name, so Mother desperately wanted it. But Father and I both hate it. Hence why I’m called Baz and not bloody Tyrannus.”

He moves back, wiping laughing tears away from his eyes. “Well then, I promise only to call you Tyrannus when I’m royally pissed off at you. That way you’ll know.” He flashes me a cheeky smile.

I run my fingers up and down his neck. “And I’ll only call you Simon when it’s just the two of us. So it’ll be special.”

God, he’s beautiful when he blushes. Simon leans up to kiss me again. Just a soft, sweet peck. It sends a warmth through my body I could get used to. We pull back and lean our foreheads against each other.

“This isn’t workplace appropriate behaviour, you know,” I whisper.

“Very true,” he sighs, “my father would have a fit if he saw us snogging in the breakroom.”

I pull back very quickly, hands clasped on his shoulders. “Oh my god that’s right. What if your father doesn’t approve? I cannot lose this job, Snow!”

Snow chuckles and pats my hand. “Don’t worry, love. If my father tries to fire you, he’ll have to deal with me .” My heart races at the protective look in his eye. “And just because we shouldn’t kiss here, doesn’t mean we can’t kiss somewhere else. Say, at a restaurant tonight after work?”

I grab his hand and squeeze it. “I would love that. But I'll only go if you’re still wearing this stunning grey suit.”

“Deal.”

I hear the faint sound of people entering the floor. I look at the clock. “I think our lunch is over. We should probably get back to work.”

Snow sighs heavily. “Fine. Let’s be responsible adults and all.” He gives me one last fleeting peck and stands up. “Meet at your cubicle at 6?”

My pulse races so wildly it’s insane. “Can’t wait.”

He flashes me a smile and walks off. I watch him like always, but it doesn’t feel shameful anymore. I think I’m allowed to do this. The idea of watching Simon Snow Salisbury only fills me with joy now, not also fear.

Once Snow is surely gone, I make my way to my own workspace. I have a very hard time focusing on the numbers with all the nervous anticipation stirring in my gut. My foot is literally bouncing, knocking against my deck.

“Hey what’s got you so jittery?” Niall asks from his usual spot hovering over the wall.

I turn to him with a wide smile “I promise to tell you all about it later out of the office.”

He narrows his eyes. “You’ve very strange, Baz Grimm-Pitch.”

“Yeah yeah, whatever."

However strange I may seem, I don't care. I'm too happy. I’ve got a date with the man of my dreams, who cares for me just as much as I care for him.

I’m certainly living a charmed life.

Aw my angsty son and loud son are happy. Good for them :)

And another kiss fic struck from the list! I'm starting university in a bit so I hope to get most of them done before that. If not then the last few will sadly not be finished until Christmas break. First semester will be murder ugh. Wish me luck, my wonderful fans. And thank you all for making this summer so great with all your wonderful requests and comments. It means the world to me <3

[surrendertodaniel]

Surrender To Daniel’s Top 250 Tracks Of 2017ish (250-201)

Opening Blab

250. Kelly Clarkson - Love So Soft (Cash Cash Remix)

“Love So Soft” was always meant for a “the nice restaurant lounge at the good mall” EDM remix that could tear a dancefloor to shreds. Please don’t do that, though. That sounds expensive. 249. Trinidad Cardona - Jennifer

A sticky sweet singer-songwriter plea for forgiveness that might not win back Jennifer, but has done pretty well for itself. (As it should.)

248. Arcade Fire - Electric Blue

OH! I get the U2 jokes now! I kid. I kid. I really wanted to like the new Arcade Fire album for what it’s worth. I wish them no harm. Everything Now felt explicitly like the album in the 2-page magazine discography review that gets cut down to 10 words due to space limitations and WHO COULD ARGUE? I think “Electric Blue” is fantastic, though. It’s a smidge “Sprawl III (Electric Beyond Blue” and that’s cool by me.

247. Valerie June - Shakedown

“Shakedown” is the sort of tune that inspires me to dance around like I’m goddamn Scrooge McDuck doing a bunch of weird pointing and twirling and shit. (That doesn’t sound like an endorsement but it is. An enthusiastic one! “Shakedown” is probably a folk festival floorfiller parkgrassfiller of some sort, I imagine.)

246. Rozwell Fitzroy - Block Game

The ReBoot Reboot soundtrack is coming along nicely. (Let me imagine this.)

245. Fickle Friends - Hard To Be Myself

Sparkling youth activity centre pop that comes in its own shade of neon!

244. Katy Perry featuring Migos - Bon Appetit

Katy Perry’s Witness came across as a bit of a lame duck record after “Chained to the Rhythm” missed the mark, didn’t it? It didn’t really help that the videos seemed second tier (or like a “favor” from JibJab in the case of “Swish Swish”) and that clunky SNL showing. Even if Witness isn’t my cup of tea (I’m rooting for the next Katy cycle)“Bon Appetit” is a first-rate muff-diving anthem with Migos making a welcome showing.

243. Chip - Snap Snap

Wait! Wait! Wait! Is that? Could it be?

Holy moly! How did I not put it together that Chip is the artist formerly known as Chipmunk? Anyway, Chip would prefer if his partner cool it on all the Instagram posting. The music video presents a convincing argument about this lovely woman’s endless selfiecrafting. I’m onboard for some sort of rebuttal track if that’s in the cards.

242. Borussia - Kinda Love

An infectious dance colossus whose power only grows by the number of bright cocktails taken in during your evening. Or morning. Look, I’m not here to judge. (Outside of this silly music judging exercise.)

241. Lady Gaga - The Cure

It’s been AGES since we had a Lady Gaga Thanksgiving special. I wonder if we’ll get one in like 2018. I hope she hasn’t had a falling out with any of the Muppets.

240. Sonamoo - I (Knew It)

I go a little too hard stomping to this K-Pop kiss-off. Like T-1000 (or whatever) stepping through that skull quarry in Terminator 2 only I’m far more prone to slipping on most surfaces.

239. Taylor Swift - ...Ready For It

2017 Taylor was not elite Taylor. (”Look What You Made Me Do” was a music video masquerading as a proper song, for goodness sakes.) Non-elite Taylor is still capable of incredible feats. “...Ready For It” reaches the sublime as its meticulously built ULTRA STADIUM POP grandiosity consumes us all. Just blinding pop light. It took me a while to get on the “...Ready For It” trolley, but I’m happy to be here.

238. Joyride - Aunty Tracey’s Cookies

If you’re going to get creative with your cookies, do so with the hopes of having a blissed out anthem sung in your treat’s honor.

237. Carly Pearce - Every Little Thing

One of those classic country songs where if you see the listener’s face go a certain way you let them sing their heart out.

236. Eves Karydas - There For You An elegant and enormous part the seas anthem, plus Eves does some excellent slowly sliding down the stairs work in the promo.

235. Vic Mensa featuring Pusha T - OMG

A chain swinging, bubbling cauldron of a cut with Pharrell production teleported in from the ‘00s. By the way, if anyone needs a dopey white guy to say something like “oh my goodness” as the hook, gimme a call. Look for 21 Savage x Dan MacRae’s “Geez Louise” on iTunes in 2018.

234. Tigertown - Warriors (St. Lucia Remix)

A Capri-Sun kissed groovy remix of Tigertown with charm to spare.

233. Lady Leshurr - Juice

Lady Leshurr is the sort of entertainer where she’s do damn likeable that I’ve spent the past 3 hours imagining TV projects the English MC can do on the side.

232. Frank Ocean - Chanel

You know the Frank Ocean drill by now. Press play, immediately feel it in your chest.

231. DYGL - Let It Out

Albert Hammond Jr. endorsed Tokyo rock outfit DYGL have crafted a tightly wrapped indie gem with Britpop and Blogosphere First Wave tendencies.

230. Old Dominion - No Such Thing As A Broken Heart

The video for this is so quarter-assed (glass houses much, Dan?) that I have been increasingly MYSTIFIED with every rewatch. Like, the concept is that Old Dominion are in a video game world that’s stuffed with wacky high score gags and kwazy on-screen graphics. The execution doesn’t pan out, so instead it’s like you’re watching someone try to recreate a Christian edit version of Scott Pilgrim from memory and STARTED COOKING WITH GAS! The song’s fantastic, though. Arena country brimming with warmth and even a touch of Ed Robertson’s Barenaked Ladies output.

229. Super Junior - Black Suit

Unlike “No Such Thing As A Broken Heart,” the video for Super Junior’s “Black Suit” fudging ruuuuules, buds. The promo is the best piece of art involving an elaborate suit heist you’ll come across all 2017 and the entire operation looks awesome to boot. K-Pop’s Last Men Standing® teeter on the brink of jazztronica at times and it’s a treat DANG IT!

228. Barenaked Ladies & The Persuasions - The Old Apartment

Is this cheating? It is, isn’t? Whatever. BNL (a term used exclusively by cool insiders) and The Persuasions were a fantastic match in 2017 and combo performances like this update of “The Old Apartment” feel so damn alive I wish both parties would consider hanging out a lot more.

227. Ayo & Teo - Lit Right Now

As infectious as a yawn but lit (FUCK!) like a firecracker, Ayo & Teo are making Frosh bangers you want to throw paint to. Or maybe I just want to chuck paint. I dunno.

226. LCD Soundsystem - Tonite

Did LCD Soundsystem really need to come back? Probably not, but they’re welcome to stay. (Look at me! I’m doing rulings now, apparently. Ha ha, life.)

225. Pip Blom - Babies Are A Lie

Nothing will top “Babies Are A Lie” in the 2017 song title sweepstakes. Also the hook is an absolute dream.

224. Shay Lia - What’s Your Problem

Pulsating R&B brilliance that sometimes leads me to do ill-advised arm choreo on my balcony. (I’m allergic to rhythm so it’s a tragedy and I apologize to anyone that’s gone down George Street this year.)

223. Lauren Alaina - Doin’ Fine

Play this at just the right volume and you will be powerless to resist the urge to belt out this country anthem while wrapped in curtains, a comforter or both.

222. Jachary - Yellow Vision

An absorbing electronic pop blend (think a spiritual second cousin to Discovery) with a chorus that swings into action like a battering ram.

221. Cende - Bed

A melting ice cream cake of mid-misery assessment wailing power-pop. Or glower-pop if you will. You will not? I completely understand and apologize immediately.

220. Waju featuring Phantom Thrett - If U Wanna

Blissed out hip-hop soul that marinates nicely in the brain. The video’s pretty darn good too.

219. AOBeats & Annabel Jones - Strangers

“You run your heart like a club: One in, one out.” It’s important to note this is a fantastic dance number for anyone that enjoys doing mid-level theatrical glances in lieu of actual dancing. (Read: Me.)

218. CupcakKe - Barcodes

Burn your motivational posters, this horn-aided banger from CupcakKe will slap you in the face with ESSENTIAL life advice about knowing what you’re worth and not budging. Also CupcakKe has some awesome lines on “Barcodes” that made me legitimately guffaw. It’s not easy to pull the guffaw out of the Dan laugh library.

217. Aly & AJ - Take Me

I think I’ve been on about this before, but there was a brief time I confused Aly & AJ with Prussian Blue. Not important. What is important is “Take Me” which is a synth-soaked sledgehammer to the sky that sounds absolutely massive. It’s a big tune is what it is.

216. Tyler, The Creator featuring A$AP Rocky - Who Dat Boy

Ya blew it, Schoolboy Q. 

215. Joe Goddard - Music Is The Answer

Hot Chip boy Joe Goddard turns in an engrossing frosted electronic effort that feels like backstroking through gel in the nicest possible way.

214. Gabrielle - Nye Joggesko

“Nye Joggesko” glides, strolls and spikes like hybrid pop should.

213. Amber Coffman - No Coffee

Pastel (but not Pastels) tinted guitar pop that gets the “breezy” tag even though I wouldn’t quite put it in the “breezy” camp.

212. Diamond Platnumz, Harmonize, Rich Mavoko & Rayvanny – Zilipendwa 

Last I checked, “Zilipendwa” was embroiled in a saxophone copyright scandal. No matter where you stand on the issue, it’s 14 seconds of sublime saxophone worth fighting over.

211. Ugly God - Fuck Ugly God

“You act like a freak, but you ain't never sucked no toes.” Ugly God treats self-immolation like a superpower. Even though the dude is doing a vivisection of his own shame, "Fuck Ugly God” hits like you’re the one being powerbombed through a table. 

210. Royal Canoe featuring Begonia - Fussin’

If this Western Canadian folk festival tent is rockin’, it’s cuz of what Royal Canoe and Begonia are clocking. (Or there’s a live ferret rescue on the grounds. Either way, respect people’s space.)

209. Ah Mer Ah Su - Meg Ryan

“I’m a white woman, I can do whatever I want,” declares Ah Mer Ah Su on the marvellously woozy pop carousel “Meg Ryan” and yes, she does mention City of Angels on the track.

208. Wesley Gonzalez - Piece of Mind

Nervy indie pop that lands somewhere between They Might Be Giants and XTC. But NOT Adam Ant. (WHO IS THAT JOKE FOR? IMPROV KIDS BEATEN WITH THEIR OWN MEAD BINDERS? WHO?)

207. Smino - Anita

The T-Pain remix is gorgeous too. Be sure to tell T-Pain if you happen to hang out with him in the future.

206. Hannah Jane Lewis - Raincheck

THIS TRACK IS BUOYANT AS FUCK, GANG! There’s also a great bit in the video where a cursor has to choose between “Accept (heart sign)” and “Raincheck” which is something I like in a music video. Play your ace, Hannah Jane Lewis.

205. Mollie King - Hair Down

This is tacky-as-you-like pop the way only the Brits can do it (you can practically see visions of loud Panto ads if you close your eyes) and should poured down your gullet like it’s Tetra Pak booze. In retrospect I should have watched E!’s Chasing The Saturdays when I had the chance.

204. Ten Fé - Twist Your Arm

A Guardian review pegged Ten Fé as something like Madchester meets Springsteen, but “Twist Your Arm” is more a glimmering ‘80s AOR creature than anything else. Probably goes down a storm with Q’s readership. (Not a dig.) I can totally picture a lot of spouses doing intense bicycle repairs with this CRANKED in the garage.

203. Charlie Worsham - Cut Your Groove

Full points to Charlie Worsham for having an first tier country name. Say it out loud right now for fun. It’s great, right? Charlie lays out a sweethearted country self-affirmation anthem that feels like warm embrace on “Cut Your Groove” and I’ve done some power twirling to this.

202. iLoveMakonnen featuring Rae Sremmurd - Love

This combo effort would be quintuple platinum if satellite radio were still “a thing.” I am 10000% convinced this would have been gargantuan in that era. Fight me and my ghost on this and I’ll fudge you up, bud. I also believe this would be fantastic on Riverdale.

Vaguely Related: I’m behind on Riverdale and need to catch up on season 2 so my dad and I can talk about it at length this Christmas.

201. Allison Crutchfield - I Don't Ever Wanna Leave California

“Darling, you're too mid-Atlantic,” begins (ex?) Swearin’ talent Allison Crutchfield on this solo cut and that’s an incredible way to start a song.