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dumbkiri · 5 days ago

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A FEAST FOR BIRDS

𝐉𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐓𝐨𝐝𝐝 𝐱 𝐅! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

When Jason Todd comes back to earth and faces off with his vigilante family along with villains, he settles his problems as much as he could. He reunited with his family, but still kicked villain ass. As the holidays approach, Jason is struck with a range of emotions. An unexpected visitor makes her way in Wayne manor with a child in her arms. Apparently, the child belongs to him.

[ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP]

“I am moving back into Gotham due to some company issues. I wanted to see if Jay can stay at your place for a bit? Maybe spend Thanksgiving with you and the boys? He would love to see his uncles and of course, his grandfathers. It would mean a lot to us if you can do this. If not, I can work around the company with him by my side. One day he will inherit what my father built, and I might as well get him to see his own building. Anyways, please let me know what you think. We miss you and the family a lot, see you soon Bruce.”

Dick leaned back into his chair and listened to the recent voicemail [Name] left for Bruce. Her voice rang with some truth while it felt like she was hiding something. He fiddled around with one of Batman’s batarangs thinking about the woman. They haven’t seen her or Jay in two years. He had to have missed something in her voice message. He knows it.

Dick leaned forward and pressed play on the voicemail, listening to it for the fifth time this afternoon.

“I am moving back into Gotham due to some company issues.”

This part alone made no sense to him. If his memory serves him right, Bruce and [Name] came to an agreement that he would watch over the [L.Name] Industry allowing her to live her life with Jay. Bruce never mentioned any “company issues” that she brought up in the call. Then again Bruce has Lucius to run Wayne Enterprise, so maybe Bruce neglected her company due to his commitment to being Batman. Although, that still made no sense because [F.Name] and Bruce had a great partnership.

[Name]’s dad knew who Bruce truly was in the night thus granting Lucius to work very closely with one another. [F.Name] would create technology that Lucius would then make into gadgets for Batman. After [F.Name] passed away, the plans he had were burned to make sure they didn’t get into the wrong hands. Bruce feared to keep the works [F.Name] worked endlessly on and made sure to get rid of everything he could in his archives.

“Maybe spend Thanksgiving with you and the boys?”

Thanksgiving…that is tomorrow!

“Bruce! Alfred! ” Dick shot up from his chair when the realization hit him. He dressed out of his uniform and into his casual clothing as quickly as he could. Whenever [Name] did drop Jay off for the holidays, she did it the day before so he could spend more time with them.

A million worries were hurdled at his body thinking back to another Wayne that was present in the house. “Jason, if you can hear me from down here!” Dick huffed up the stairs, “Let’s go out for some lunch! I am so hungry!” Was it a lame excuse for his brother-in-arms, yes. But if he had a chance to spare Jason from seeing [Name], he would do it in a heartbeat. Jason doesn’t know he has a kid, let alone a kid with his ex-girlfriend.

When Bruce described the relationship between Jason and [Name], he went on about true love. A happiness he didn’t think would surround him when he watched Jason smile at [Name]. The teasing he would do to the both of them like a real parent. Bruce watched them create a beautiful bond at a young age.

Then when Jason died, Bruce watched the heartbreak crush [Name]’s heart. Dick remembers the conversation between him and Bruce when the news of her pregnancy hit him like a truck.

“She looked at me like I killed him.”

“Bruce, you can’t think like that. [Name] is just hurting, you said so many times. They were meant to be together.”

“She told me that she’s pregnant.”

“W-what? She’s only 16, Jason really- Fuck, what do we do now? We have to support her, you did tell her that right?”

“Of course, I did. She accepted my help and she told me that she wants us to get to know the child. That she still wants to be a part of our family. So I told her that I will send $4000 to her account every month for any expenses she has. She didn’t accept any more and I didn’t agree to any less. I don’t feel right though.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean that we get to live and see the child Jason made with [Name]. We get the luxury of knowing his child while he rots in the ground. If he knew, do you think he would have left? If [Name] got to him before the fake letter, would he have stayed?”

“Maybe, but at least we can do right by him and support his family. That’s all we can do for him now. It’s okay to cry, Bruce. Loss shouldn’t be associated with shame.”

He reached the top of the stairs and cringed at the sound of the doorbell ringing throughout the mansion.

As casually as he could, Dick entered the living room and heard the echo of two voices at the entrance of Wayne Manor. He sneaked around the couches and furniture thinking someone at the door would catch him from so far away.

“Who are you hiding from?”

Dick panicked and spun around to see Jason on the couch reading a book. He heard Alfred welcome [Name] into the manor and he knew the old man would lead her to them. With fast thinking, Dick ran over to Jason and shoved his sunglasses onto his face, “Quick! Wear these and this!” Then he stuffed a black face mask into Jason’s book.

“Dick, what-”

“Jason, please!” Dick pleaded and helped put the sunglasses on while Jason reluctantly put the face mask on. Jason wanted to ask more until Alfred walked in with a woman and a child in her arms. Swiftly, Dick pulled Jason’s red hoodie over his head and turned around to greet the visitors.

“[Name], it’s so nice to see you!” Dick shouted and enunciated her name to get it through Jason’s thick skull. He walked over to the woman and gave her a hug mindful of the sleeping child in her arms…wait, what? Jason squinted behind the sunglasses and observed the child some more which Dick fawned over like some lovesick idiot.

“Wow, he’s grown so much,” Dick awed at the sight of the child and gently touched the unruly black hair that reminded him so much of the Wayne boys.

“I’m sorry for the apparent unexpected visit, I did leave a voicemail for Bruce,” [Name] huffed and shifted her child more comfortably in her arms to which Dick reached his arms out to her. Without hesitation, [Name] smiled gratefully and handed her kid over to Dick. She watched Dick whisper to her sleeping son and told him, “We’ve decided to do a road trip instead of flying. Jay insisted that he wanted to see the “world”, but there’s only so much adventure he can handle. He’s going to wake up super excited to see his favorite uncle.”

Dick’s mind blew up as his eyes looked from Jay to [Name] who giggled at his reaction. “You’re kidding, he said that? I’m his favorite uncle?”

Well that confirmed to Jason that the kid is definitely not Dick’s. Honestly he’d be pissed if Dick had a child with his ex-girlfriend. There were so many questions running through his head and he wanted to ask them. But the silent glare he got from Alfred in the corner of the room told him to stay put with not a word.

“Yes, it’s always been you, Dick,” [Name] unwrapped her scarf from her neck and shoulders. Finally her eyes spotted the giant man sitting on the couch adjacent to where her family was at. She observed him quietly and looked down at the book in his gloved hands. Dick nor Alfred introduced the stranger to her, so she took it upon herself to be polite.

“Hello,” She stepped around Dick and reached her hand out with a courteous smile, “My name is [Name] [L.Name].”

Jason closed his book and stood up from the couch. He towered over her and flashbacks of their time together brought longing in his chest. He remembered everything about her from her smile, to her eyes, to her personality. She hadn’t changed one bit. He reached his hand out and shook hers. His tongue twisted and more questions slammed into him.

“This is my friend, Lazlo,” Dick chimed nervously, internally cringing at the fake name he gave Jason.

This piqued [Name]’s interest and she giggled, “Lazlo, that’s a cool name. Can he hear me or speak to me?” She asked, releasing Jason’s hand and quietly whispered the last part over her shoulder to her friend.

Dick shook his head and said, “He’s actually a mute. Anyways what brings you here to Gotham. Don’t say holiday cheer either.” He walked between Jason and [Name] and took a seat next to Jason's closed book. Meanwhile Alfred dismissed himself knowing that Jason will not be able to say a word.

Jason sat back in his seat while [Name] sat on the couch across from them. She visibly relaxed in comfort and sighed tiredly, “My mother wants to force a marriage onto me and like some teenager, I ran away. Plus there are some things I have to do at the company. I wanted to see if you guys are okay with babysitting Jay while I dust the old mansion down the street. Haven’t been there in years.”

She laughed and Dick joined her. He shifted Jay into his lap and said, “Of course, we would be happy to take care of the little one. I, for one, missed him a lot. Is the marriage the reason why we haven’t seen either of you? It seems like a lot.”

[Name] straightened out her back and looked away from his bright blue eyes. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes as she explained a bit more, “Yes, it’s a reason. The marriage is with a business partner. He’s a bit older than me and has spoken about having a family with me. My mother is ecstatic about more grandchildren, but I am not. There is only one person I truly love and that is Jay’s father. I cannot imagine having children with someone else when Jason is still fresh on my mind. And he gave me a brilliant child to cherish in his memory.”

Dick could see Jason tense up at the revelation and saw from the corner of his eyes Jason look at Jay sleeping in his arms. The atmosphere grew heavier by the second and he had to do something. Something to appease Jason’s longing.

“Do you think Lazlo can hold Jay? He knew Jason before his death and-”

“Of course!” [Name] gestured to Jason, with a kind smile on her face, “I’m sorry for your loss, Lazlo. But I’m going to tell you now, Jay looks exactly like his father.” She giggled and Dick looked at Jason with expecting eyes.

Slowly, Jason sat up and hesitantly opened his arms up. He wasn’t ready to hold his child while keeping his emotions bottled up. “You can do this, Lazlo,” Dick’s voice reassured him, “He won’t break in your arms.”

[Name] laughed from her spot and pointed at Dick, “Hey, you were afraid to hold him the first time too!”

Dick shrugged and argued back, “He was a lot smaller back then.” Then he scooted closer to Jason making the transfer a lot easier for the both of them. In his sleep, Jay immediately snuggled up against Jason’s chest surprising the boy’s mother.

“Oh wow,” [Name] awed at the sight, “He normally doesn’t do that. Jay only snuggles into me, I’m kinda jealous he’s doing it with someone else.” She gave Jason a fake pout with a teasing tone in her gentle voice. But all he could focus on was the peaceful look on the child’s face.

This boy is his son.

Jason pulled Jay closer to his body as his chin touched the crown of the boy’s head. Then he felt a lone tear slide down his cheek. Thankfully he wore a face mask and sunglasses to hide his joy. [Name] spoke the truth when she said Jay looked like him. Jay is his mini-me.

“So how many instruments can he play now?” Dick asked.

“He only plays the piano, Dick,” [Name] rolled her eyes playfully, “but he can speak three languages. Sign language being one of them.”

Sign language? Jason thought and picked his head up with interest. He recalls that they learned sign language for fun to talk behind her mother’s back.

“That’s right, I remember you teaching him. Although, I think he flipped me off once.”

“Don’t say that!” [Name] laughed.

“I’m being serious!” Dick shouted back with a smirk on his face.

Jason leaned back into the couch while Jay fit perfectly in his arms. The boy laid on his chest with his legs being held in a gentle, but protective grip. Jay’s head laid onto his shoulder and Jason could hear the soft breaths that left the boy’s lungs. Soon, the voices of [Name] and Dick dissipated and the breathing of his son lulled him to sleep.

Jason would do anything to keep [Name] and Jay to himself. Even if that means revealing himself to them in the near future. For now, he’s comfortable with blissful ignorance.

……

“Mama, can I stay in Mister Lazlo’s arms a bit longer?”

A tiny voice woke Jason from his sleep and he felt small hands clenching the sides of his hoodie. He blinked his weary eyes open and saw the living room in a dark tint. He forgot he wore sunglasses to hide his face along with the face mask.

“Jay, it’s time for dinner. You and Mister Lazlo have slept long enough. You both need to eat. And you don’t want Grandpa or your uncles waiting for long do you?”

“But he feels safe and warm, mama.” Jay mumbled and Jason slowly rose up from the couch, steadying a startled Jay in his hold. He looked down at the child with a funny bedhead and couldn’t help but chuckle at the surprised look on the boy’s face.

[Name] fixed her son’s hair and looked at him lovingly, “See, Mister Lazlo is ready to eat too. Perhaps you can ask if he wants to sit next to you for dinner?” She looked at her son expectantly and the little boy nodded his head. He raised his arms up and sighed to Jason,

“Mister Lazlo, would you sit next to me, fuck you.”

The ending part took Jason and [Name] completely off guard and the mother reacted quickly pushing her son’s hands down to his sides. With a scolding shout, she said, “JJ, where in the world did you learn that?” She gave Jay a hard look and the little boy obviously seemed confused.

“What do you mean, mama? I asked him nicely.” Jay tilted his head to the side in a questioning manner.

“That last sign, isn’t really- It’s a bad word, JJ!” [Name] huffed and softened her look, “Who taught you that and what did they say it meant?”

What Jay answered made sense to Jason, “Uncle Damian said that it meant ‘please’. He said to only use it for them and not you though.”

“So Dick was right when he mentioned you flipped him off,” She rolled her eyes then focused back on her son, “Please, don’t use that anymore, it’s really rude. Use the sign for me as please from now on, understood?”

Jay nodded his head obediently then looked at Jason with bright silver-blue eyes, “Understood, mama. Sorry Mister Lazlo.”

Jason chuckled and shook his head, signing, “It’s okay, you did great. And yes, I would like to sit by you for dinner. As long as you give me any leftovers you have.”

Jay giggled and jumped up signing back, “It’s a deal!” The little boy ran off towards the direction of the kitchen and the adults were left on their own.

“He gets excited to meet new people,” [Name] spoke softly, her eyes warming up talking about her son. “JJ has a heart of gold and he loves everyone he meets like his own family. Especially the Waynes. When his father passed away, I panicked because he wouldn’t have a father figure to be his mentor. Yet Bruce proved me wrong. JJ instantly grew fond of his grandpa and uncles. They all became his father figure, some better than others in different aspects. Speaking of which, I might have to wrestle Damian for teaching Jay that obscene gesture.”

[Name] laughed at the end and looked at Jason for some approval. He quickly signed to her, “We can jump him together. The demon spawn won’t know what will hit him.”

Just like her son, she smiled and said, “It’s a deal.”

#x reader #x female reader #dc imagine #batman imagine #batman #jason todd imagine #jason todd x reader #jason todd #dick grayson

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dreaming-medium · 1 year ago

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Thanksgiving With You

Relationship: Lee Minho x reader

Tags: Pure fluff

Summary: Your plans to go home to America for Thanksgiving are uprooted the night before you're supposed to leave. Unable to stand seeing you upset, Minho decides to take matters into his own hands and make sure you get to celebrate no matter what.

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The TV was on in the shared apartment, all of the boys were laying all over the couches in various comfy positions. Legs tangled up in knots, blankets draped over different laps.

Living in the same building as one another definitely had its perks, that’s for sure. Even if everyone starts their days in their own apartments, by dinner time, everyone congregates to one.

Today, you and Minho’s apartment was the lucky winner.

When you answered a roommate ad two years ago, you didn’t know it would come with seven other men on top of that. But, you wouldn’t change anything that’s happened since then.

Felix’s head rests on Hyunjin’s lap while he plays on his phone with Changbin watching over his shoulder. Seungmin takes up two seats while Jeongin sits on the ground next to his legs. Minho is lounging in the corner seat of the couch, Chan on his left, Jisung on his right.

For the first time, they’re all silent. Each of their conversations were cut short when a news broadcast cut through the movie they were “watching”.

A female news anchor sat behind a desk looking directly into the camera.

“We interrupt your program with a breaking news report from The National Weather Service. Please be advised that there is extreme adverse weather expected to affect Seoul beginning tomorrow. All airports, roads, and businesses will remain closed starting tomorrow, November 22nd, until further notice.”

Normally, none of the boys would care about a storm. This meant time off from work, time to relax and stay inside while everyone gets some much needed rest but…

“Minho!” your voice calls out into the living room. Your roommate perks up off the couch, tearing his eyes away from the news broadcast. “Can I borrow your neck pillow? I’m going to need it for the flight. Sixteen hours on the plane is going to be killer without it.”

His jaw clenches and he looks around at the other boys on the couch who all have equally flustered expressions. They each stare at one another like deer in headlights.

“Ah,” he hums and looks around the room.

Oh, you were so excited to go home for Thanksgiving, how was he going to tell you that the airport is closed due to the incoming storm? Why does he have to be the one to break the news to you?

The news anchor continues talking about the snowstorm, predicting record levels of snowfall and high speed winds.

All month, all you could talk about was how much you missed Thanksgiving: the turkey, the parade, the pie, everything.

He didn’t really understand it.

“Minho?” You ask again when he doesn’t answer. Your figure appears in the doorway into the living room.

As soon as you stand in front of all of them, their heads snap towards you.

Your eyes widen, obviously startled. “Guys?” You ask, laughing nervously. “Why are you all looking at me like that?”

Felix moves a bit, his mouth opening to say something before the news anchor cuts him off again.

“Again, we repeat the broadcast: Please be advised that there is extreme adverse weather expected to affect Seoul beginning tomorrow. All airports, roads, and businesses will remain closed starting tomorrow, November 22nd, until further notice.”

Your mouth drops open and you step further into the room to look at the TV.

“What?” You say to yourself, your heart dropping to your stomach. Everyone else’s does as well from your devastated tone.

Chan reaches forward with the remote, turning the volume up for you to hear.

“No, no…” you whisper.

Minho watches you, feeling his own heart break for you.

“M-Maybe I can book a flight for tonight. The storm starts tomorrow, maybe I can get out at the last minute.” You practically run back to your room, frantically looking for your phone.

All of the boys stay silent.

Apple pie this, mashed potatoes that, homemade pineapple … something. Minho couldn’t remember what you had said. You would always talk too fast when you were excited.

It only got harder for him to understand when you would go into English.

On top of all of this, you haven’t been back to America since you moved here two years ago. It was going to be your first time home.

You were just so busy when you started your new job that there was never any time to take off.

And now that you finally could? It’s falling through your fingers.

“Such a shame…” Hyunjin is the first one to break the silence. His voice carries the same sadness that they all hold on their shoulders.

Minho keeps looking down the hall where your room is, hoping to try and hear anything— any news of an earlier flight, a phone call, anything.

Only a few moments pass before Minho gets too antsy to sit still. He stands up from the couch and makes his way down the hallway.

Your door is cracked open a bit.

When he gets closer, he hears you on the phone. “N-No, you don’t understand, I was going home for the holidays— Yes… Yes I understand that everyone else is too, b-but I haven’t been home in two years.”

You sound so heartbroken, it’s physically killing him.

“There are no open seats? ….. the 5:30 flight? That’s in… that’s in ten minutes I live forty minutes away from the airport!”

Minho leans against the wall behind him, your open door to his left.

“There’s nothing else? … No, I understand. Thank you very much for your time... You as well.”

There’s a long moment of silence and a thump against your mattress.

Ten more seconds pass before he hears hiccups and sniffles coming from inside your room. That’s when Minho caves in, coming up to your door frame.

He can never withstand hearing you cry, on the rare occasions that you do.

You look so small curled up on the edge of your bed, your head in your hands. Your suitcase is open on top of your bed with various clothes and toiletries all over the place.

Your shoulders shake as you sob quietly into your hands.

A frown pulls at his face. Minho reaches up and knocks gently on the doorframe.

Your head shoots up in surprise, hands furiously wiping away the tears under your eyes.

“Oh, hey Minho!” You try to smile, but the tears won’t stop, but you continue wiping them away. “Sorry, um… I don’t think I need your neck pillow after all.”

A sob wracks your chest.

“Sorry,” you apologize again and wipe the tears some more.

His frown depends and he walks over to the bed, taking a seat directly next to you.

“You don’t need to apologize, Y/N.”

You sniffle and look down at your lap, the sleeves of your sweater coming over your hands. “It’s dumb to be this upset, I know. I was just really looking forward to Thanksgiving, you know?”

His entire side is pressed against yours. His warmth seeps into you in a comforting manner.

Minho listens to you carefully. He’s never been the best at comforting a crying person, he knows that, but he’s learned that all you ever crave when you’re upset is someone to listen.

“We have this tradition in my family, god, it’s been so long since I’ve been able to do it,” you sniffle and wipe your eyes. “We wake up around nine, and my sister and I make cinnamon rolls and watch the Macy’s parade from New York while we eat them. Then, while we get ready we watch the National dog show and ugh…”

He leans back on one of his hands placed behind you on your bed. The cogs in his brain are already turning.

Cinnamon rolls… Parade…

“God, I really missed my mom’s Pecan Pie.”

“Pecan Pie.” Minho mouths to himself. You don’t see it.

You sniffle.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he whispers to you, his hand coming up to rub your back gently.

“It’s alright, there’s always Christmas. The airline said they can move my ticket without me losing money. I guess it’s better to go then.” You hum and wipe the tears off your face again.

Not knowing what else to say, Minho stays quiet, his hand continuing to rub up and down your spine.

He knows next to nothing about Thanksgiving; it’s an American holiday. All he knows are the little things he’s seen in movies: turkey, hats with buckles on them, eating until you explode.

What parade did you say? Macy’s Parade? Okay��

Minho loses track of how long you both sit there, you trying to pull yourself together while he rubs your back.

His eyes dart around the floor unfocused as he makes a mental checklist in his head. He’s definitely going to need to employ the help of the seven other men in his living room if he hopes to pull this off.

“Thank you, Minho.” Your voice pulls his attention. He looks over at your face, hand pausing between your shoulder blades.

Your eyes are red rimmed and cheeks are rosy from all your crying. A sad smile sits on your face that doesn’t meet your eyes.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he responds, getting a bit flustered under your gaze.

You move your head to rest on his shoulder, like second nature, his arm wraps around your shoulders and keeps you close.

Butterflies swirl in his stomach at the contact. Yes, you’re his roommate, but it was in the last six months or so that his heart started seeing you as so much more.

It all started with you cooking his favorite dinner when you knew he had just had one of the worst days of his life.

He had texted you around noon complaining about the rough day he was having, you consoled him shortly, and that was that.

The day had dragged on, getting worse and worse; he opened the door to your shared apartment around midnight to find you moving around the kitchen.

When he peered over your shoulder and saw his favorite meal, his heart melted.

“To cure your bad day,” you smiled at him.

He fell so hard for you, there was no coming back.

Minho turns his head to rest his chin on the crown of your hair.

“Well, I have off work; maybe I can take the day to catch up on a project without being bothered to join meetings.” You trail off.

“Or you could take the day to relax.” He chuckles.

You pause. “Nah.”

He laughs again and hugs you close.

“I better unpack everything.” You peel yourself out of his arms. Minho’s body already feels so much colder without you pressed against him.

“I’ll leave you to it.” Minho stands up from your bed and makes towards the door.

“Minho,” you grab his attention. He turns back to look at you.

You’re smiling at him again, but the sparkle is missing from your eyes.

“Thank you, really.”

“Of course, Y/N.”

Minho pulls your door closed behind him and makes his way down the hall. He has a mission and a checklist.

And he needed to get to the grocery store tonight if he wanted to pull it off.

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Three quick knocks rap against your door at 9:00 AM sharp on November 23rd.

With a disgruntled groan, you shift around in bed and pull the blankets up over your shoulder more.

After a few seconds, the door cracks open slowly, the hinges creaking loudly in the silent morning air.

A huff-like laugh forced through the invader’s nose.

Slippers pad against the carpet of your room and the mattress dips down on the side of your bed.

Gentle, warm fingers push your hair off your forehead. Your eyes squint a bit and you snuggle further into your blanket.

“Minhooo…” you whine without opening your eyes. “I have the day off, remember? I don’t need to wake up.”

“Ah,” he hums, fingers still carding through your hair. “But the parade is on.”

Your brain is still booting up. All your movements pause, your eyes snap open and you look at the man sitting on the side of your bed.

He’s in his cooking apron; the blue one you got him for his birthday last year.

“What?”

That smirk of his spreads over his face, his eyes squint the more he smiles down at you. “The parade is on, Y/N, don’t you want to watch it?”

With wide eyes, you stare at your roommate. “The.. parade? The Macy’s Day Parade?”

He hums with a beautiful, genuine smile. “I didn’t think you wanted to miss it.”

You sit up and kick the blankets off, leaping out of bed and down the hallway. Minho’s laughter follows you.

Sure enough, playing on your TV, is the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade, from New York City.

“Wha…” you trail off. If it’s 9 AM here… it’s only 7 PM the night before Thanksgiving in New York, how is he…?

Your eyes scan the TV to see the small graphic that displays “2022” in the corner.

He’s playing a recorded broadcast of last year's parade. A laugh of disbelief bubbles out of your chest and you whirl around to look at your roommate standing in the hallway.

“Minho!” You squeal.

“We still have to bake cinnamon rolls, come on.” He waves you to follow him to the kitchen. Your jaw drops and you can only stare at him.

Minho looks over his shoulder and sees you’re not following him. “Are you coming? I’m not baking them by myself!”

Another snort of disbelief forces its way out. Your one hand reaches over and pinches your arm.

“No, I’m awake,” you whisper to yourself.

The sound of the parade announcers talking in their thick New York accent makes you feel right at home. There was a specific sound quality of audio that comes from these events and it brings you right back to the East Coast.

Minho walks into the kitchen and you follow after him with an extra spring in your step.

———————————————

“And here comes Snoopy and his good friend Woodstock!” The TV announcer says happily.

You take another bite of your cinnamon roll, chewing happily and watching the TV. Doongie curled up next to you, tail swishing around.

Minho can’t decide what he wants to watch more: you or the TV. You’re positively beaming, and he hasn’t even told you the best part yet.

He scratches Soonie’s head absentmindedly.

There’s a couple knocks on the door.

“Come in!” Minho calls out.

The door creaks open. “Minho, your timer went off. I think you need to baste the turkey.”

Your head whips around to see Felix poking his head into the apartment. He makes eye contact with you and his smile brightens instantly.

“Hi, Y/N! Happy Thanksgiving!” Felix chirps from the door.

“Thank you?”

Minho stands up off the couch, “Thanks, Felix, I’ll be right over.”

“Gotcha, see you soon, Y/N!” Felix closes the door behind him.

You look up at Minho. “Turkey? You’re making a turkey?”

He stands in front of you and smiles. “I am, you can’t have Thanksgiving dinner without turkey, right?”

“You– Are we..?”

“We are. But not until after the parade, and the dog show, of course. I told everyone to come around 2:00, that works, right?”

You stare up at him, cinnamon roll still in your hand.

“Y… Yeah, that works.” You truly cannot believe your ears. Are you sure you’re not still sleeping? Do you need to pinch yourself again?

“Good, I’ll be right back.”

Minho moves past you towards the door, scratching your head a few times as he passes by. You make no move to fix your hair after he leaves.

Slowly, you take another bite of the roll, eyes spacing out watching the parade.

Inside your chest, you can feel your heart stutter and swell, heat rising to your cheeks and turning your ears red. He’s really doing so much for you, isn’t he?

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“Y/N! Come on out, Chan and Jisung are here and Jeongin needs help with the mashed potatoes!” Minho calls down the hall.

Like a kid on Christmas, you peel down the hall, adjusting the earring you’re wearing.

You’re in a black turtleneck tucked into a cute light brown pencil skirt with black tights and fuzzy socks. The most typical Thanksgiving outfit.

Your favorite jewelry adorning your body.

The four boys turn around and greet you happily. Each of them in their own fuzzy sweaters and comfy pants.

“Happy Thanksgiving!” They all say to you in unison.

“Ah, happy Thanksgiving!” You cheer back and wrap Jisung and Chan into a tight hug since they were the closest. “Thank you so much for this!”

Both of them wrap an arm around you with giddy smiles. “It was all Minho’s idea,” says Chan. “If you wanna thank anyone, thank him.”

“Or you could help, instead.” Minho teases from behind the kitchen counter, sliding over a can of cranberry sauce.

“Oh my god!” You squeal and come around to grab it. “Where did you find this? I didn’t think any stores in Korea sold this!”

Minho hums happily and stirs a pot on the stove. “There’s an American store a few blocks away. It’s where I got most of the groceries for today.”

A timer beeps at the same time the door swings open.

“Hot bird coming through!” Felix calls into the room. “I have a turkey too!”

Everyone gives Felix a pity laugh as briskly walks towards the kitchen and places the cooked turkey onto the counter. The smell that wafts through the house is heavenly.

Jisung hands you a glass of sangria with a wink. You clink glasses and take a small sip.

Changbin walks through the door after Felix, holding a stack of about three pies in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other.

“Happy Thanksgiving!” he calls inside as he kicks his shoes off.

Everyone responds with the same greeting.

“Minho, where do you want desserts?”

“Just put them on the side by the main table for now!”

There’s more hustle and bustle next to you while Jisung attempts to use the can opener for the cranberry sauce.

“Y/N, could you help me? I don’t think I’ve ever made mashed potatoes before…” Jeongin trails off in front of a pot of boiled potatoes.

You beam at him and skip over to his side. “I absolutely can, it’s a lot easier than you think!”

Chan walks over to the living area with the couches.

“What do you usually have on the TV at home?” he calls in to you.

You’re dumping all of the potatoes into a mixing bowl while you answer him. “Typically, my dad commandeers the TV and has football playing all day, but I really don’t want to watch old football reruns.”

Jeongin watches over your shoulder as you shake the bowl to settle the potatoes. “Could you grab the butter and milk from the fridge?” You ask him and he nods and walks off.

Seungmin comes in with Hyunjin, both of them holding trays of food.

You greet the two of them happily.

While Jeongin is gathering the ingredients from the fridge, you take a moment to look around at all of the boys in your apartment.

They must have looked up ‘What to wear to Thanksgiving’; each of them is in a sweater and dress pants. Some of them have turtlenecks underneath the sweater, some don’t, but they all look like the same font as one another.

“What can I do to help?” Seungmin asks, him and Hyunjin further crowding the kitchen.

“Go set the table with Hyunjin.” Minho points to the long dining room table, shooing them out of the already small space. Plates, napkins, forks, knives, glasses– everything you can think of, is placed on the corner of the table in stacks and piles.

“I’ll help too!” Felix chirps and makes his way over with the two men.

“Y/N!” Changbin calls your attention. Both him and Chan have beer bottles in their hands, bodies facing the TV. The two of them look like dads with the way they’re standing. “What about a Christmas movie? Is that allowed on Thanksgiving?”

Jeongin plops the milk and butter on the counter next to you.

You call back into the living room. “Yeah, that’s fine! But make it a good one– a classic! Oh! What about Christmas Vacation? That’s my favorite!”

“I’ll find it, don’t worry!” Chan responds.

Another timer beeps, Minho opens the oven and pulls out a tray full of fresh rolls. Jisung finally wrestles the can of cranberry sauce open.

Your heart grows three sizes.

“Ten more minutes on the Pineapple Bake.” Minho says to himself but you hear it.

Your head snaps around so fast it might tumble off your shoulders. “Pineapple Bake? You made Pineapple Bake?”

A flush crawls up Minho’s neck to his ears when he turns and meets your sparkly eyes.

“You had mentioned it…” he trails off and finds something else on the counter to fidget with.

“How did you get the recipe?”

“Ah, well,” he rubs the back of his neck nervously. “I have your mother’s number from when you first moved in and all.”

“You texted my mom?”

“Is that alright?”

The hustle and bustle of the seven other bodies around your apartment fades into the background. Even with Jeongin standing directly next to you, he seems to disappear.

“You texted my mom and asked for her Pineapple Bake recipe?” You choke out again, your eyebrows raising, lips parting in an emotionally shocked expression.

Minho visibly gets a bit more nervous at your repeated question. His jaw clenches and he plays with the tie of the apron. “Did I overstep?”

Without any warning, you cross the few steps of the kitchen towards him and throw your arms around your roommate, burying your face into his shoulder. Small tears of joy well in the corners of your eyes, throat constricting with so many emotions.

After a moment of hesitation, Minho wraps his arms around you and rests his cheek on top of your hair.

“Thank you, Minho,” you whisper to him, squeezing him even tighter.

Minho’s shoulders visibly react from your hug, relaxing from the tension of the past few moments.

He smells like the holidays, the softness of his sweater is so comforting against your cheek. You just want to bury your nose in it and drown in the scent.

“This means so much to me.” Your words are so sincere, he could cry from hearing them. His arms tighten around you, eyes closing to relish in your hold.

He basks in it. Despite a third timer screaming in his ear, he continues to hold you like if he let go, you would disappear forever.

Having you in his arms like this has always been the equivalent of drinking warm tea before bed. It sends a wave of comfort and safety through his entire being.

The timer continues to beep.

“You can thank me after you eat.”

You giggle, any sadness he’s ever felt disappears for a split second.

Hyunjin calls into this kitchen. “Can you please turn that thing off before I go insane?”

Minho sighs, the air blowing into your hair. He keeps you close for a few more heartbeats before letting go.

“It’s time for dinner anyway.”

----------------------------------------------

Everyone was quiet, the TV still playing Christmas movies in the background. The streaming service that Chan had put on had autoplayed movie after movie while you ate dinner and then dessert.

The last surprise Minho had for you was that he also had asked your mother for her Pecan Pie recipe two nights ago.

Everything about today left you floored and speechless. Your heart has never felt this full in your life.

All eight of them sat around the table looking uncomfortably full. The table that was once filled with every side dish known to Thanksgiving enjoyers, every dessert you could dream of, was now littered with empty dishes.

“We should just be thankful for being together. I think that’s what they mean by Thanksgiving, Charlie Brown.” Marcie’s animated voice rings through the apartment.

Again, your throat tightens up with so many happy emotions, you clench your jaw to keep them down.

From directly next to you, Minho must’ve noticed your expression, his hand reaching under the table and resting on your knee, squeezing it once to comfort you.

You look over at him.

His heart catches in his chest.

There’s that sparkle in your eyes. The one that disappeared two nights ago, he got it back. His entire face softens as he stares at you as if you hung the moon and vice versa.

“I need a nap,” Felix groans from his chair.

You hum and look over at him. He’s slumped in his seat, head back, eyes closed.

“That’s the best part of Thanksgiving, sleeping with a full stomach.” You tell him.

“Full is an understatement.” Jeongin adds.

“I think I found a new favorite holiday…” Changbin trails off.

“Ditto,” adds Chan.

“Yeah? Well maybe we can have a Friendsgiving next year and do it all over again.” You tell the table.

Minho groans. “I’ll need more help next time, then!”

Everyone grunts in agreement.

You reach under the table and take a hold of Minho’s hand still on your leg. Your fingers wind together and you beam at him again with that dazzling smile.

“I would do anything to do this again.”

----------------------------------------------

“I still can’t believe they took that many leftovers,” Minho mutters, dipping the sponge in the sink.

“I can’t believe we had that many leftovers.” You dry a dish with the towel and place it on the other clean ones.

The exhaustion from eating is still heavy in your bones; but both you and Minho decided it was better to get all the washing out of the way so that you could just relax for the rest of the night.

It felt like you’ve been washing dishes for hours.

Soft twinkling of Christmas music plays through the speakers of the TV from the movie.

“Minho?” You ask suddenly, your voice is a bit weak and unconfident.

He looks over at you with his undivided attention, one eyebrow raised.

“There’s one more Thanksgiving tradition I didn’t tell you about.”

His eyebrows furrow more and he puts the dish down in the sink full of sudsy water. “What is it?”

Smiling, you put the towel down.

“Will you dance to Christmas music with me? To ring in the Holiday Season.”

Minho’s taken aback for a moment, he laughs– almost in disbelief. “Really?”

You bite your lip nervously, nodding once.

With a playful smile, he grabs the towel and dries his hands. “You want to dance? We can dance, Y/N.”

Squealing, you happily skip to the living room. “Alexa, play Christmas music!” You call out and she immediately begins to play music at the perfect volume.

Frank Sinatra’s ‘I’ve Got My Love to Keep Me Warm’ plays through the speaker. The happy saxophones and trumpets blare and your spirits lift even more than you thought they could.

You bounce on your heels to the beat a few times, swaying with the rhythm in a silly way.

When you turn around, you see Minho stepping towards you to the beat. One of the happiest looks ever on his face. His hair still slightly styled from this morning, just a bit more relaxed as the day went on.

His sweater is so cozy with a black turtleneck underneath, heather gray dress pants on the bottom. Lee Minho looks like the Holidays wrapped up in a warm, cable knit package, and he’s currently dancing towards you.

Once he is up on you, he takes your one hand and places the other on your waist. Both of you look like absolute goof balls, swaying and bobbing to the rhythm of Frank Sinatra in your living room.

The scent of Thanksgiving dinner still hangs in the air; the warmth from the ovens and stove hasn’t faded one bit.

Minho leads you all around the living room in a beautifully clumsy dance. The smiles on your faces never drop, even for a moment. They only grow with each giggle passed from one to another.

His eyes stay locked with yours the entire time. Nothing could interrupt your moment,

You mouth the lyrics to him; it’s English, so he’s not really able to keep up as much. But the emotion is there. And just the idea that you’re singing to him makes his heart soar.

“What do I care how much it may storm,” you sing, “I’ve got my love to keep me warm.”

Minho spins you around, you squeal with happiness with your arm above your head. He brings you back in and grabs your waist with both hands, lifting you into the air and twirling more as the music swells. You place both of your hands on his shoulders for balance.

He gently places you back on the ground, the song ending and fading into the next one.

Michael Buble’s ‘I’ll Be Home For Christmas’ follows it up. The rhythm of the song slows down the energy in the room dramatically.

Neither you nor Minho let go of one another. Instead of backing away, the two of you step even closer. Your arms wind around his neck, his hands interlock on your lower back.

Your eyes look all around his perfect face, meanwhile his stay locked on your eyes. He’s so enchanted by you, it feels like you placed him under some sort of spell.

If he could, Minho would do this entire day over and over again until he died, just to see this beautiful look in your eye each time, to hear your glee filled laughter after each surprise.

Instead of moving around the room, the two of you simply sway side to side in time with the beat of the song. Minho spins the two of you very slowly in place.

A beautiful, festive, Christmas bubble begins forming around the two of you.

“I cannot even begin to tell you how much today meant to me, Minho.” You break the silence between the two of you.

He chuckles. “I’m glad I was able to do it for you, Y/N. I don’t think I’ve ever run to the store that fast in my life.”

Mirroring him, you laugh softly. “I can only imagine what you looked like trying to get everything together.”

He moves his head side to side. “I had a lot of help.”

You shake your head. “This was quite possibly the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

“You deserve it.”

Another laugh from you. He just watches you. He watches each emotion cross your face with such admiration, with such a fond, sweet gaze, it could rot your teeth.

Piano keys tinkle in the music. Michael Buble’s smooth voice wrapping around your private bubble.

“I am endlessly thankful for you, Lee Minho.”

His gaze softens even more.

You’re his soft spot. You– beautiful, wonderful, joyous you– are Lee Minho’s weak point.

Slowly, the swaying to the song begins to slow down as you both get lost within one another. Everything about the scene was like a movie, down to the storm swelling outside your window.

Minho’s eyes flicker down to your lips for a split second.

You grin. His heart thuds in his chest.

“I don’t suppose you got any mistletoe?” you ask cheekily.

His eyes widen for a second, but he quickly catches on to your joke. “That wasn’t on any of the Thanksgiving websites I found.”

“Oh well.”

Without another word, and with the goofiest of grins on both of your faces, you pull Minho in for a kiss.

His entire world stops when his lips meet yours, everything pauses and the only thing that exists is you. Nothing else matters except for the girl in his arms.

The world could end right now and he would be the happiest man on Earth.

Both of his arms tighten around you, one hand comes up to cup your cheek, cradling it softly.

Your arms around his neck bring him even closer to you.

His kiss is everything, it’s sugar cookies rising in the oven, it’s a sunrise on the beach, it’s waking up to the smell of cinnamon rolls on Thanksgiving– everything.

It’s everything you’ve always needed. He is everything you’ve always needed.

Eventually, the two of you pull away from one another, but not without a last few stolen pecks on the other’s lips.

The kisses end up short, you both keep smiling and pulling away, too happy to continue.

Minho keeps his eyes closed, his thumb brushes over your cheekbone. “I think I have a new favorite holiday.” Another peck to your lips.

You giggle and kiss him again and again, “Me too, Lee Minho.”

#skz x reader #stray kids x reader #lee know x reader #lee minho x reader #lee know x y/n #lee know drabble #lee minho x y/n #lee know reader insert #lee know fanfic #lee know is the definition of If He Wanted To He Would #stray kids x y/n #skz x y/n

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afreakingdork · 8 months ago

Text

Spring Break

RotTMNT Donatello x Reader One-Shot

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: Aged-Up Mutant Ninja Turtles, POV Second Person, Friends to Lovers, Human/Turtle Relationships (TMNT), Yearning, Romance, Fluff, Romantic Fluff, One-Shot

Synopsis: You're on your first spring break of college and returning back home to NYC. Donnie has agreed to pick you up from the airport and the season of change is ready to exercise its rights upon your friendship with him.

Also available on Ao3

I cannot thank @tmntxthings enough! She took my half formed plot bunny and helped me finish it up and embellish it with the cutest ideas!! This fic would not exist without her and she gets my endless affection! 💞

Plane descent, it was the one part of flying that really felt like a roller coaster. With its little dips and adjustments, your stomach would rise in turn. It made some sick, but you found it exciting. It was a manifestation of coming home. With each drop in altitude you were a little bit closer and, no matter how people felt about plane rides, the excitement was palpable. Even those tired and exhausted, ready for their changeovers, were glad for a moment on the ground.

This was your stop and you were especially excited for what waited for you.

Clinging to your phone, there was a final announcement and you looked out the window. Watching fields and houses grow closer and closer, your heart alternatively soared. Ants took on definition and eventually you were doing the careful careen through buildings to land in LaGuardia. With a squeaky landing that jarred your body, people stood through the taxiing process which prompted fights with flight attendants.

You were back in New York City.

A fervor running throughout the plane, there was still the docking process and each second ticked by through syrup until you got a text.

Donatello, not to be confused with the famous Italian Sculptor: I am at the appropriate baggage claim.

It was a new entry in a sea of others that had you momentarily closing your eyes. You then typed out a response about what you’d endured since landing and Donnie kept you occupied with messages right up until it was time to deboard. Bumping and jostling and giving appropriate glares back, you were soon just shy of running down a tunnel. Just like descent, you were closing in by the moment and once you broke free from a certain pair of doors, you paused only to take stock. It was fate, you thought, that people parted and there he was.

Donatello stood bundled up both for some kind of anonymity and the early spring weather. A balmy cool outside, trees were clinging for a bit more warmth before they burst with color. You were going to miss the blossoms this time around, but you had a lifetime of watching the petals dot the otherwise dirty streets before. You always liked this season. There was a sense of change in the air. A metamorphosis, you saw not just the growth between your youth and now, but everything from the last half year.

You were offered a full ride to a school all the way across the country.

You accepted and left behind everything.

The long days of your first semester would have been lonely if not for a certain purple coded turtle offering to marathon shows with you online.

You texted in the cafeteria until you found your crowd.

You continued to message him because he had to know the latest gossip.

A webcam was sent to you as a gift so you could better work on projects together across multiple state lines.

You clung to Donnie as a virtual lifeline through your first set of finals.

The Christmas holdover in California due to a lab opportunity had been a daunting choice.

It was made all the better as you were given a digital spot at the Hamato family table during Thanksgiving and Christmas.

Then came another bout of studying for midterms.

All to now, where he’d offered to pick you up after something had come up with your parents and you had complained of the taxi fare on your spring break budget.

You were in motion.

In fact, you were barreling towards him. He heard the footsteps, but didn’t connect them to your person as he looked up. Now knowing the source, he jammed his phone in his pocket and took on a sort of prepared alarm. Then, at the last second, he pivoted a foot out. A careful rotation, he lowered his stance into a readied one. It was all the confirmation you needed as you leapt.

He caught you at the same time for the hug and you crushed yourself to him. Momentum should have knocked the air out of you, but he swung. Your body twirled up with your heart and, by the time you were set down, you were groping to get more of him. This was new, you remembered. His scent wasn’t like coming home. You’d never been close enough to really get a whiff. Clinging to his worn hoodie didn’t crop up memories of softness because you had at most brushed it in passing.

You’d known this mutant for seven months and this was your first hug.

You wanted more.

Your only saving grace was he appeared to feel the same. For each tug, to get your arms tighter around his neck, he gave equal pressure around your waist. As you butted your head to his, he clawed into your own jacket, trying to get you that much closer.

It was warm.

It was overwhelming.

You didn’t want to let go.

“Hey.” You murmured against him.

“Greetings.” His voice responded. “How was your flight?”

“Good. Boring. Long.” You nuzzled closer.

“A full work day’s flight.” Donnie hummed, amused.

“Thanks for picking me up. It’s good to see you.”

Finally, after what must have been too long, Donnie pulled back enough to view you with a chide. “You as well.”

A little shy, your arms slipped to rest against his plastron and an announcement interrupted citing luggage. A quick check found you were at the right carousel and you sent Donnie a wry look. “We’re in the right place.”

“I was clear about my location.” He playfully rolled his eyes and reluctantly relinquished you to approach the long luggage circle.

You followed close behind and bumped arms with him. “Oh, there was this lady who would not stop yaking about the toast squares she got in that plane snack mix.”

“Ah, yes, the snack gacha.” Donnie chuckled and bags began to drift down the line.

He explained the odds and you walked him backwards through your trip. There was a gap from when you’d set off for your flight until arrival. He’d been on a video call when you’d packed your suitcase so when said luggage came winding down the metal slide, you didn’t need to say a thing. He knew it and hoisted it up where you shouldered your backpack. You’d returned with mostly things to wash, but you figured that was part of coming home.

You soon drifted away from the building. Working through the bustling drop offs zone, you headed to where Donnie had sequestered one of his vehicles. Parking cost too much for the tank, he settled on something visually low key though the interior was just as technologically stacked as the others. It was a resistance in temptation to press buttons on the dash you had never seen. They felt familiar as he’d taken you on a phone tour when he completed retrofitting the van, but it felt different in person.

Conversation took you home and, before you realized it, you were idling on the street.

Time had slipped through your fingers like water and you hadn’t cupped enough to drink. There’d even been traffic, you’d sat through it, but it hadn’t prolonged the journey. You were due inside. Your parents were waiting. You also would need to leave Donnie. He’d only ever been here to give you this ride. Heart sinking regardless, you moved to give Donnie your regards with a forlorn tilt of your head.

“Let me help you with your bag.” He rushed the statement.

Your eyes met.

You were both a little too eager to delay the inevitable.

“Thank you, I’d appreciate it.” You told him though your heart wanted to ask him over for dinner.

You’d already skipped coming home for winter break and there was no way your parents would allow an interloper to impede on catching up with their child.

You were required to spend time with them first, then friends.

Duty was a strange thing. It brought you home to mom even though you were an adult with a supposed choice. It had your friend hoisting your stuffed suitcase out of the back of a van where you had created the burden of the heft. You clicked up stairs, your luggage wheels hopping steps and Donnie felt the need to fill the space as if he were required to keep from giving you a moment of quiet.

You were thankful.

You didn’t want to think of how you’d miss him.

Again, he’d felt the same.

You liked that about him.

Reaching your door, you knew you hadn’t messaged your parents for this same reason.

It was your own coveted surprise amongst what you had to do.

Donnie was careful in carting your suitcase up silently.

It felt like a stolen moment. “We still on for Wednesday?”

“Yes.” He nodded and pulled up a ninpo calendar for the sake of it. “Mikey has forewarned Señor Hueso and if you make April wait a moment more, I think she will strangle whoever is closest.”

“Of course.” You bobbed your head and felt the reminder of the knob.

You needed to go home.

You needed to see your parents.

You hadn’t seen them in so long.

You hugged Donnie.

Slower this time, you still moved quick enough that you avoided the awkward shuffle. It was an instant threading of bodies where you had to stave off a sigh. You fit so well without practice and his toned arms slung so comfortably around your waist. You bumped your head to his for the sake of closeness. He stilled and you thought it too much until he turned his beak to nuzzle the side of your head. From his inhale, he was catching your smell so you openly breathed him in the same.

Then you came apart, heads down, unable to bear to see the other leave as you mumbled out promises of seeing each other soon.

Donnie left by the sound of stairs and you unearthed your key to head inside.

Wednesday couldn’t come soon enough.

The rest of your Saturday had been a flurry of catching up with your folks. You were pelted with every question under the sun and the few phone calls with them you’d had throughout the school year seemed to have never happened. Your parents remembered none of the details no matter how much you whined about how you’d already told them about your class load. You were struck with backhanded comments about missing the holidays and how this cousin had proposed and that nephew had gone skiing and would you believe the tan your aunt got?

Then came sleeping in your old bed which was now a foreign one.

You called Donnie with your headphones on and he answered after only one ring.

Unable to stand the odd sheets, you curled up beside your window for faint outdoor light and watched Donnie on screen eat snacks as you unloaded about how annoying it all was. You loved your parents, but it was always something. He took his time in the conversation after your most heated complaints were air cooled and then subjected you to his own. His family’s separation anxiety was on another level, but he never made it a competition. You instead felt commiseration, even if the comparisons were outlandish.

Exhaustion took you to bed and the old smell of you drifted up like one you didn’t recognize. You were just tired enough to mention the discrepancy and Donnie made a comment on how you’d changed. You weren’t sure you had as you hadn’t felt like it, but you guessed of anyone, he would know best.

How had that come to be?

Your best friend was here and someone you’d known since elementary school. You still loved them, but they’d fallen to a certain wayside once Donnie appeared. Meeting him had been an accident at best. From senior year finals, you’d picked up a local coffee shop as your own. During summer, you switched to drinks for fun instead of necessity and a new barista started that you liked. She was great at conversation and better at upsizing drinks with a wink so you always made sure to tip. There came a day when you forgot to have cash on hand and you promised to come back by to fork it over. Now on a first name basis, April had scoffed it off, but you still returned after making change at a nearby bodega. It hadn’t been more than 20 minutes and yet she had disappeared. You waited for her to return from break only to notice a mutant was similarly off to the side and one you’d come to find was waiting for the same April.

That was early August.

You’d gone to UC Berkeley in early September.

That was less than a month knowing the turtle in person.

Now you were drifting off to Donnie complaining about how he’d been found sneaking into East Laird’s lab yet again.

He just needed access to one chemical.

They wouldn’t miss it.

He’d doctored the supply sheets himself.

The janitor was paranoid.

You giggled and it must have come too late because he ordered you to sleep.

You told him you missed him.

In truth, you did.

He murmured the same along with a mention of Wednesday.

It wasn’t here yet.

Texting helped as Sunday led straight to a family meal with whoever was in town. You rehashed the exact same stories about school more times than you could count. Your scholarship was both held up like a heavyweight champ’s belt while others spoke to you like you were some Hollywood convert. It didn’t matter that there were six driving hours between the two places. You’d betrayed some inane state pride by going to a far flung college and whether that was a success or pompous choice was your family’s to debate.

You went to bed so angry afterward that you broke your 125 day streak of saying goodnight to Donnie.

You woke up under your old ceiling.

Breakfast reminded you of high school.

Dad had work.

Mom had lunch.

She talked and you listened.

You saw your best friend in the 3 o’clock doldrums.

It was awkward until it wasn’t.

It took about an hour, but you fell in line to your old pattern.

You meant to message your bestie more, but college had taken both of you in different directions.

Who’s this guy you keep mentioning?

Donatello, was it?

Did you meet someone?

What a story that was and it came with a growing smile from your best friend. Each passing word felt like guilt off your lips and you were teased mercilessly.

No, stop that! We aren’t dating!

Why would you ask?

It’s perfectly normal to help a friend out like he did.

Yes, we’re close.

Not that close.

He’s a nice guy.

Yes, really nice, what are you insinuating?

It wasn’t like that.

You wanted to call Donnie on your way home.

Your best friend’s words kept you from it.

Tuesday your dad had off from work and, though they took you, you ended up showing your parents around Prospect Park. Where they’d only heard it was nice, you had seen enough from social media to actually maneuver it. You picked a restaurant they hated and then a bakery they loved. You were nagged incessantly and then pestered.

Tell us about your new college friends!

You don’t sound like you have many, what happened?

Oh, whos’ that?

Tell me more!

Are they nice?

Go to any crazy parties? We won’t judge.

They did.

They judged everything.

You kept Donatello’s name out of your mouth, though he appeared with each question.

He kept you sane.

He had been there for you.

He made things better.

You texted him as you ran to a bathroom stall for a moment of peace.

Donatello, not to be confused with the famous Italian Sculptor: Hard to go back after your taste of freedom?

It was such a him response.

Donatello, not to be confused with the famous Italian Sculptor: Tomorrow, you’ll have us.

Donatello, not to be confused with the famous Italian Sculptor: Don’t worry.

Donatello, not to be confused with the famous Italian Sculptor: Until then, say the word and I can call you away with a lab emergency.

Donatello, not to be confused with the famous Italian Sculptor: I know the codes for several. Do not ask why.

It helped as you rejoined your parents.

One more day.

Wednesday morning and afternoon were tedious affairs with little to do outside of the dreaded laundry. You aired and disinfected your suitcase and ended up cleaning for the sake of it. It made your mom happy and you prepped ingredients for your parent’s dinner even though you wouldn’t be partaking. It would be another nicety in hopes that they wouldn’t say a word when you stayed out late.

It wasn’t like you had a curfew, but you knew the biting remark would be there.

You left just before your parents got home so you sent messages to both of them to cover your bases. Their sent confirmation was like a final school bell and you were running down stairs at an alarming pace. Donnie’s text window appeared next and you shot out a message about your imminent arrival. You felt a buzz in response and wound an oddly familiar path to the necessary sewer grate. One prepped for access to the turtle’s tunnel, you climbed down and only then brought up a map. Above was one thing as you knew your local streets, but the journey below was one you’d never had time to memorize. Donnie’s map was clear and as you switched from sewer to subway lines, you soon came to the brighter lights of the lair.

The Hamato were piled in the living room and you saw Donnie amongst the bale.

He smiled, but it was Mikey who wrapped around you.

Your name was shouted and it summoned the others who hadn’t been paying as much attention. You got friendly pats, several more squeezes from Mikey, one bear hug from April, and a litany of pelted words from the others. Leo’s Hollywood comment didn’t sting as much because he pulled it out in a reference to Son in Law. He did a pretty good Pauly Shore impression and your praise had him pulling out more impersonations. As the chides and jokes flew, you thought about how they hadn’t pelted you with a million and one questions about your college life. They cared little about class and only if you’d had time to catch any local movies or shows.

You nearly wept at not having to talk about only the studious side of your life and you got to share a movie you recently streamed with Donnie. The others hadn’t known either of you watched it and you both excitedly regaled them on reasons not to without spoiling anything. You laughed about a plot line of having been plucked from their environment and joked about red squirrels. Donnie responded in kind about grey and you both laughed until you realized you were the only ones.

“What’s that about?” April asked where she was folded over a couch beside Raph.

“O-oh, it’s-!” You choked on giggles and held onto Donnie’s arm since he was close.

“You see, there was this inane test question that kept coming up.” Donnie filled in for you.

“Non-native grey squirrels have basically put native red ones on the endangered list!” You spoke with too much levity for the topic.

“Now this is a known ecological issue, but the way the professor framed the question…?” Donnie shook his head with a smile.

“He made it out to be like a gang war! So-so Donnie made this joke because they always, freaking always run out of breakfast in the caf when I get out of my morning class about my territory being disrupted!” You giggled.

Donnie bumped you to chastise. “Wait, you’re leaving out your classmate who runs to beat you there, your grey squirrel!”

“Omigosh! I don’t even know her name!” You cracked up.

“You’ve yet to mention the actual campus grey squirrel!” Donnie pressed.

You laughed harder. “Omigosh, he hates me and anyone that goes near his door on South Hall!!”

You both hurled more examples that fit into your branching squirrel joke and you thought everyone was having a good time until Raph’s voice cut through. “Sounds like a good inside joke.”

You weren’t immediately sobered, but your giggles grew strange.

“Yeah, I’m not getting it, but hey that happens.” Leo shrugged. “Squirrels aren’t my first comedy punching bag.”

“They’re cute! What do you mean they kill each other!?” Mikey had a watery expression. “To extinction!? How could they!?”

April patted his back. “It’s a dog eat dog world.”

“Is that why we were the Mad Dogz?” Leo looked to Raph.

“No, but I’m going to say yes.” Raph shined back a snaggletoothed grin.

With that the others moved on.

Suddenly feeling painfully self-conscious, you shirked and felt that Donnie’s hand behind your back.

You looked up at him and he had a grin and whisper waiting for you. “These dum-dums don’t know good comedy.”

“You are the funny one.” You softened up and, in an instant, felt reassured.

He pressed lightly for you to join the room and you jumped back into the conversation which had moved onto pigeons. A hotly debated topic, you took sides and spouted facts you had learned in class. Memes were then shared and eventually you went to Hueso’s. The rowdiest table for what was a comical argument about whether they were his favorite customers, the skeleton yokai refused to answer and only spoke of cash spent and tabs to be paid. Leo chased the man into the kitchen to be his usual intrusive self and you stayed present in table conversation the best you could.

It was difficult when Donnie kept sending you reaction images based on said speech and you found it impossible not to reach right for your phone so each joke would land fresh. It eventually meant both of you were side by side texting on another and it was only when the food came did you jar out of it.

“Can’t leave your significant others for even a second?” Mikey jeered before he tapered off. “Though I kind of thought it was you that Donnie was texting… But that’d be weird right!? You’re literally sitting together, why text?” He laughed.

Others laughed.

You and Donnie didn’t.

It spurned April to steal Donnie’s phone.

Some kind of betrayal, Donnie nearly flipped the table to get it back, but the flash of screen April had seen was enough.

You two were outed and ruthlessly drilled.

This was supposed to be fun, you thought to yourself as you tried to field lobs. They weren’t supposed to be rude like your family and yet you were back to fending vultures off.

Yes, you spent hours talking.

No, you weren’t dating.

Yes, you texted.

No, it wasn’t because it was a secret conversation.

Yes, you were just friends.

No, you weren’t more.

It was only when Leo reappeared and saw the distress mounting on you and Donnie did he step up in his leader position and caught the table’s attention by the throat. He laid out a new topic in the form of recent battles and that conversation took the heat off. You sighed into the booth, feeling particularly drained and when Leo shoved in to have more seat, it bumped you right into Donnie.

Donnie made room, but his hand stayed on the seat, close to yours.

You tapped a questioning finger to his.

Your heart was heavy.

Were you wrong?

Was your friendship weird?

Donnie had gotten you through moving across the country.

Donnie had done so much.

You really, really liked him.

His finger curled around yours for reassurance.

You’d asked once hadn’t you?

Something about if you bothered him early on since you talked just about constantly.

Donnie had scoffed by saying the word itself and told you that he put forth as much effort as he cared to.

You’d be the first to know if he was displeased.

He’d been honest.

When you complained about a science he liked, he didn’t care how hard the class was, you got an earful.

One of the few times you’d tried to use him as an excuse not to study, he’d hung right up and temporarily blocked you so you’d be forced to.

Your hands moved and, with a rush of your pulse, you tucked your other fingers up and over his.

He held your hand with one and ate pizza with his other as if nothing strange had occurred.

You did the same and spoke more normality by responding to something Mikey said.

It was taken with its own retort and everything felt right.

“I’m stuffed!” April flopped back and her jacket slunk down lazily on her shoulders.

“Can’t… move…” Raph groaned.

“That’s what happens when you are here for four hours and thirty seven minutes ordering non-stop.” Hueso commented as he picked up several empty pizza trays.

“One for the road?” Leo burped.

“Depends…” Hueso cracked a brow and slid over the check.

Leo flicked his eyes down once and then over to his tablemates where everyone dodged the question.

“Maybe next time.” Leo spoke guilt and Hueso hummed knowingly as he departed. “Split time! Cough it up!”

Complaints were loud as all sorts of money was deposited on the table.

“I love and hate catching up!” Leo crooned once an appropriate amount was placed.

“We were literally here four days ago.” Raph didn’t have the energy to eye his brother.

“Bah!” Leo swung a lethargic arm and it flopped on the table.

“No more pizza for… four more days…” Mikey grunted.

“Heh, you guys’s diet sucks.” April chuckled and fell over into Mikey on purpose.

The youngest squeaked and dominoed into Raph who shouldered the weight without moving.

“We’ll see you again, what? Friday, right?” Leo craned his head toward you.

Leo was dismissing you.

It was late.

This had been the plan.

Two days.

Donnie squeezed your hand.

You had never let go.

“Well…” You tried to respond.

“You know!” Donnie cut through conversation as if he hadn’t heard how it was coming to a close. “Remember how we weren’t able to find Jupiter Jim and His Majesty Cromslor anywhere online?”

The table quieted and you looked to Donnie curiously. “Oh yeah… We missed it in our marathon.”

“I purchased a copy then, but it only came in a few days ago.”

“That took…” You flicked up a few fingers to count. “Months!?”

“Oversees. Probably a boot leg, but it does indeed work.” Donnie smiled at you.

You felt a flutter in your gut. “We should-”

“Watch it now?” His brows bobbed. “Well everyone?” Donnie looked out, carefree to his inebriated brethren. “Movie night?”

“I’m sleeping!” Raph announced. “Don’t wake me and we’re good.”

“But Don…!” Leo’s head fell onto where his arm was still on the table.

“I could watch.” Mikey’s shoulders bobbed beneath April.

“I’m out. Got work.” April yawned.

“Then it’s settled.” Donnie turned back to you. “Not that we needed permission.”

You chewed on a giggle. “Can’t wait.”

Everyone else dragged themselves back to the lair, but you and Donnie took up the rear as you discussed some lab work. Delving into the study you’d monitored over winter break and what came of it, you were soon sat around the projector where Splinter was asleep in his chair. Raph used the last of his energy carting his dad off to bed and Mikey settled into a bean bag with commands to turn his head towards the screen. Leo helped in that matter and set himself up with his phone in hand to hang out more than watch. You and April said your goodbyes and then Donnie joined you on the couch. Raph didn’t return until well past the first quarter of the movie, but didn’t seem to mind as he flopped down to watch a film presumably the family had seen many times before.

The room was filled with the quiet sounds of the movie until Donnie leaned into you. Your shoulders brushing, he whispered to you a fun fact about the movie that gave way to more. With your head turned against the cushion, you eventually stopped watching the film to instead stare at him. He was enthralling. His lips moved with specific enunciation that you knew came from his love of pizzazz. He topped it off with eloquence from IQ and his flair was infectious no matter how emotionless he tried to present himself.

You adored him.

The credits rolled and there was light after movie discussion where you all found Raph had fallen asleep as promised. Donnie regaled you in his theories on how this movie affected the larger Jupiter Jim universe while he threw a blanket over his older brother. Leo pitched in a few notes about his comic knowledge, but no matter how obsessed the Hamatos’ were in this film series, there was still a limit of how much conversation could be shared.

“Welp!” Leo announced, coming down from a stretch.

That was the second final call of the night.

You had already overstayed your welcome.

You pulled out your phone to text your parents.

Donnie touched your wrist. “Before I forget, I finished my latest project. That targeted hearing device.”

You slowed. “Oh yeah, were you able to work out that model on how it decides what to filter?”

“Yes, in fact, I had a breakthrough-!”

“You finished that two nights ago right? When you were pacing in that fit?” Leo interrupted.

Mikey perked up. “Oh yeah, you were so upset, but you wouldn’t say why! If it was just because you were doing your usual tech walk things, then why not tell us?”

Donnie had obvious guilt and raised his hands.

You stared.

Two nights ago was when you hadn’t been able to text him goodnight.

You were in motion and interjected yourself with force into the fray. “Show us!”

Leo and Mikey looked at you curiously.

You tried not to balk. “It was for you guys too! It will help you gather intel on missions!”

“I thought it was just for your goggles or business people who never take their Bluetooth out, even at dinner parties?” Leo quizzed Donnie.

“The applications are wide ranging! Why do you think I patented it?” Donnie held his head haughtily and headed toward his lab.

The line there went first Donnie and Leo paired where Donie was putting his all into convincing Leo of his inventions use and then you and Mikey who trailed behind in a conversation of your own.

You weren’t sure, but you thought the blue brother glanced at you twice.

Mikey regaled you on a video game he had recently beat and, by the time you entered the lab, Donnie was in full presentation mode. A space you had only been in virtually, Donnie walked everyone to where the buds were and tried them on Leo first since he was the naysayer. They proved to work nicely as you and Mikey played examples by moving around the lab to make noise for the technology to hone in on.

You remembered locations from your guided tour, but definition had been sparse over the phone. Now here and moving about, gadgets kept catching your eye. Donnie explained them with quips from his brothers about use or malfunction. You heard all manner of stories and saw a part of Donnie you had yet to see. Donnie was quick to hang up if his brothers tried to intervene, but he was no stranger to complaining about them. You felt like you knew them better than you did because of it, but seeing the brothers in action was something else entirely.

They carried through, soon fatiguing of reminiscing and giving space for Donnie to show off his more successful tech. He shined, putting his best foot forward in a way you assumed he prepared for investor meetings. He eventually let you examine his bo staff and demonstrated how it could be reformed within his ninpo. He was detailing how his schematics process had changed since acquiring his mystic powers when Leo suddenly yelled up to the ceiling.

“Nope! Beep, beep, beep! Hear that? That’s my brain at full capacity! No more! No more science for Leon! Honk-shoo! Bedtime alarm.” Leo threw his arms up and seemed ready to spin around to leave before he caught sight of you. “Great seeing you, by the way. We’ll be seeing you, but not again tonight! Later, losers!”

You all watched Leo walk out.

Mikey saw his own chance to pull away.

The youngest did nothing distinctly, but you could tell he was ready to head to bed himself.

You had been together for hours now and it was definitely the AM of the next day.

You needed to text your parents.

You needed to go home.

You’d see Donnie again.

You had one last time before you flew back across the country.

You got your phone in hand and messaged your parents to check in.

“Michael.” Donnie held his own anxiety.

That meant both remaining brothers were ready for you to go.

Having already proved to your parents you were alive, you moved to next pen a message about how you’d be home soon.

“Huh?” A bubble popped on Mikey’s attention.

“Have you checked the time?” Donnie moved away from you.

Looking up your screen found the time at 2:47am.

“Oh ho!” Mikey sang with scandalous purpose.

You paused and looked up to see him sporting a huge grin.

“I get what you’re putting down, brotha! It is the one and only reserved time for my most exclusive dish!” Mikey moved fluidly through a few poses.

“Yes.” Donnie looked pointedly at you. “You might have heard of it.”

You blinked a few times not realizing some kind of ploy was in motion. “Special time…?”

Sliding to the right, Mikey’s whole body dipped below his raised arms. “It is time for my unmatched, out of control, unparalleled 3am dump nachos!”

A memory slapped you across the hippocampus.

You did remember.

Mikey had sprung them on Donnie when he was helping you study for finals last year.

The Mikey of the present then snapped to attention in a business-like manner. “Proprietary reserved and guaranteed to eradicate night munchies.”

Your phone buzzed and beckoned with annoyed responses from your mom.

You’d thankfully never sent that message about heading back.

She knew you were doing alright, that was enough.

You closed your phone. “Who am I to say no to the clock!?”

“Nacho time!?” Mikey turned to confirm with the last party. “That was what you wanted, right?”

“Yes.” Donnie tried to stave off a certain amount of joy. “Nacho time.”

“Woo!” Mikey started to holler but caught himself off to whisper. “Quieter woo because people are sleeping!”

You all filed down to the kitchen where Mikey took point in commanding his own cooking show. Talking about all his past chip and cheese related mishaps, he walked through pantry staples and what wasn’t for good nachos. Donnie settled in by your side and eventually grabbed a few drinks. The pair of you mingled together, sharing little glances amongst Mikey’s display until the nachos were in the oven for a quick melt session.

“Oh man, this was a great idea.” Mikey looked at Donnie approvingly. “I can’t remember the last time we did 3am nachos.”

You did, but you kept quiet.

“Probably after April’s midnight launch at that movie theater.” There was an air to Donnie that said he was purposefully making something up.

“Eugh, was it one of those ones where they watch like six movies back to back?” Mikey made a face.

“Are those marathons bad?” You asked.

“They are when you can’t pause and do stuff like this.” Mikey gestured around the kitchen.

“Helps to be allowed an oven.” Donnie cocked a brow at you.

“It’s not my fault someone started a fire in the dorms a few years ago.” You shot a smarmy look back.

“Finesse.” Donnie’s fingers came up to floss the word.

“This again!” You rolled your eyes.

“The rules are in place to protect! As long as you don’t violate them obviously, then I don’t see the problem.”

“Your homemade oven thing was way sketchier!”

“You could make it out of all the materials you had on hand! It’s completely safe!”

“Just because one can, doesn’t mean one should!”

“Look! I can recreate it now! You never tried.” Donnie went for a junk drawing and came back with supplies. “The most you needed was wire, then a containment unit, easy enough to build…”

Donnie nearly pressed to your side as he cut and created a wire and then spliced it with a battery. Showing you how to then encase the coils, he asked for your help holding something in place. You did so and he eventually came around with electrical tape to bind his creation. He complained about how soldering should be allowed if hot glue guns were. You spoke against that point and your hands brushed. He scoffed at live flames and slipped his arm through yours in lieu of reaching for a piece of plastic that had rolled away. You pressed into him and told him that with that logic you could simply weld.

“Couldn’t you?” Donnie’s face was near yours.

“I’d need…” You reached up and his cheek tipped into your hand as you activated the release on his goggles as you’d seen him do on video.

His lenses came down and you were close enough to see through them to his eyes beneath.

“… something like this.”

“I see… Safety first…” Donnie murmured, leaning in.

“Mhm…” You mirrored him.

A timer dinged and you jolted apart.

“3am nachos!” Mikey came around with oven mitts as if oblivious. “After hearing both your arguments, I’m gonna go with no homebrewing ovens in the dorms. It looks like you’re building a bomb.” He set the tray down and the smell was undeniably delicious.

You might have enjoyed it more had your heart not been pounding out your ears.

“To the uneducated, perhaps!” Donnie grumbled and looked over the spread.

You moved to better reach and heard Mikey talk about the best constructed bite.

What were you doing?

You had almost kissed Donnie.

If that was what just happened.

Donnie.

You had a nacho in hand.

Donnie.

What you had to label as your newest best friend.

Donnie.

Not a replacement, but an embellishment.

Donnie.

Next to you, the man in question said something about guacamole.

He helped you through your semesters.

You still had 10 more after the current one.

Four total years.

That didn’t include masters which you aimed on getting.

On the other side of the states.

As far as possible in the continental US.

That was only the grand scale.

On a minor one, you’d be back there in only four days time.

You’d barely seen Donnie.

You’d also arguably spent more time with him in just seven months then you had lifetimes with some of the people you still happily called friends, but 90% of that time had been through an internet connection.

Donnie.

A chip entered your mouth and it tasted so good you wanted to weep.

It certainly wasn’t for any other reason.

Mikey’s cooking was that good.

Eating.

Eating was happening.

You tried to tune into what Donnie and Mikey were discussing.

Donnie had put his goggles back up on his head.

His eyes looked pretty as he talked to his brother.

They always seemed lazy in expression, but they caught so much.

They also took in nothing if he didn’t care to look.

He’d been looking at you.

Right through that red and blue glass.

The make-up of purple.

Mikey hummed an exhausted note. “Oh man… 5am already? Sun’s gonna be up soon…”

“That late?” Donnie asked absently.

At least your parents had gone to bed and wouldn’t hassle you.

They might because you were absolutely going to get home after they woke up for the day.

That was less than ideal.

You also had lunch plans.

What were you doing?

“I’m hitting the hay!” Mikey announced even though you were sure he’d said other things. “Hug for the road!”

Mikey hugged you and you were sure you hugged back.

“Finish those off or whatever. They don’t keep so toss ‘em! Night, D!”

“Night.” Donnie spoke.

Alone.

You were alone with Donnie.

You’d been avoiding this hadn’t you?

Both of you had.

“Still hungry?” Donnie spoke timidly.

“Sure.” You had barely had any.

You worked through building that perfect bite Mikey talked about and then went for some salsa Mikey had whipped up.

Donnie was right there with his own chip and your knuckles brushed.

You both froze and looked at each other.

You saw it all there.

The budding feelings.

The long distance.

The fear.

The longing.

“It’s too soon…?” Donnie broke away to look at the sheet pan. “Don’t you think?”

You did.

You know you did.

You were weepy as you nodded and ate more than necessary just because the taste helped abate the sadness.

Donnie offered to take you home in his own melancholy.

You’d barely experienced college.

You were so young.

In spite of knowing him so well, it wasn’t enough.

When he pulled over on the empty morning curb outside your apartment, sunlight was peering in on your exchange.

What would you do?

How would you say goodbye?

“Walk me to the door?” You asked.

“Of course.” He put the van into park and turned it off.

You walked side by side in silence up the stoop.

The moment you were both on the same level, you hugged him. Hard into his middle you squeezed him for all he was worth. Not to be outshined, you were similarly scooped. Donnie created a protective outer layer where his face buried down into the top of your head. You both siphoned as much of each other off as you could feeling like it would be the last.

Was that right?

It didn’t feel like it, but for right now it was hard to parse anything.

It was exciting to be close to him.

You hadn’t known when he offered to give you a ride that you’d tackle him right out of your airport gate.

You’d never hugged before that.

You’d never touched at all as far as you could remember.

All of this was sudden.

Too soon.

You rooted your face into Donnie’s plastron. “I’ll still see you Friday?”

“You’ll see me tomorrow if available.”

You blinked up wide right out of his chest.

“You’re on break. I want to make the most of it.”

This time you threw your arms around his neck and he hoisted you up into the hug. You laughed into it until he set you back down and your heads bumped together. Sting moving to cradle, you lingered against one another. You felt more then, how you were rushing. You were jumping to conclusions. You were deciding years down the line before being present in your own moment.

Too soon.

“Dinner.”

“It’s a date.”

You entered your apartment on a cloud nine bubble that even your parents couldn’t pop. It prevailed through your mother’s nagging and you finally catching blissful shut eye. You barely made your lunch appointment with your friend and were disheveled for it. They laughed at you and joked about a rough night. The unsuspecting victim who just happened to ask the wrong question at the right time, you unloaded on them. Not usually the type of friend for long talks, they took it in stride and came out like an MVP.

They gave you advice on how to proceed and shared how they themselves were doing long distance.

It wasn’t for everyone.

You were young.

You needed to prioritize you.

There was also a certain amount of trusting your gut.

All a tricky balance, you came away feeling optimistic and closer to your friend than before.

You also crashed as soon as you got home and had a screaming match with your mom when she returned from work to find you in bed. It was enhanced by you not telling her about your dinner plans, but it all felt like a certain amount of stride. It was par for the course with growing pains of your adulthood and you got yourself gussied up amongst it. Donnie came to get you and you felt whisked away where your dad sent you off in good humor.

You wished he fielded your mom, but you guessed you could only ask so much.

Your date was a romantic one. Dictated by closeness, you counted in touch. There were brushes to the hands that morphed to holds. He’d pressed your back to indicate he wanted to pull your chair out and would eventually pull you to his side when some drunk adults stormed by on the sidewalk. You snuggled close to him during a concession selection and later would rest your head on his shoulder during a movie. Afterwards when you lingered for a walk in twinkling night lights you spoke your feelings into reality and what to do.

You’d wait.

It was too soon.

There was so much more to see.

You didn’t feel sad about anything other than not being able to kiss him when he brought you home.

Those hugs were hard enough to break apart from.

Friday then came and went and this time you felt fully present amongst the Hamato. Sunita and Casey joined for a rowdy bunch and you felt strong enough to take over the entire city. You also were always placed by Donnie’s side whether it be by both your conscious choices or simply your draw to one another which earned some ire. Unlike the last hang out, you were validated and both breezily brushed it off with knowing smiles. That brought more confusion, but any and all were left guessing what your relationship was.

Your family and a huge friend group hangout took Saturday.

Then you packed with Donnie on a video call.

It was just like a week ago, but wholly new.

You wished him a somber goodnight and right before hanging up he asked to drop you off.

You would have to fend off your parents, but you decided you could oblige.

There was little complaint as the next morning your mom asked you point blank who the boy was. You admitted to them the events of the last seven months, mutation and all, which they took in various stages. What your dad heard mostly was your loneliness and how this guy had gone above and beyond to make you feel less so. That was enough for him and in a stern decision, he refused to be moved. It left your mom high and dry outside the marriage unit and she eventually sighed to dreamily say that was why she loved your father.

Comparisons were then made between them and your relationship with Donnie and you shut that down as quickly as you could.

Donnie was then there and in an impromptu parents meeting.

He was surprisingly adept at it and you had a feeling he was aware this would happen. You ended up drilling him on the way to the airport where he admitted he prepared for at least seven possible scenarios regarding him butting in on the airport drop off. He regaled you in them all until you were sick of his preparations and you were at the airport.

He walked you as far as he could.

You hugged.

It should have been scented with desperation, you thought.

Instead, it felt like a promise.

With the same clingy digging, he gave equal pressure to your waist as you gave his head. He clawed your back and you pulled at his mask tails. It caught puffs of laughter from both of you as you drank each other in. You knew his scent now, a specific one you wished to curl up in. You’d remember prolonging time together even when you talked to him on the phone, presumably as soon as you landed. You’d be exhausted and want to shower, but you’d make time. You liked to give it just as he’d do the same.

You parted.

With smiles that were plump with tears unshed, you waved to him and he lingered as long as he could. You thought he even might have continued past that and used his goggles for some x-ray business. In case he did, you metered your steps and kept looking back to send him more grins to log. He probably had a thousand already from the calls or even this week, but you’d give more. You boarded a plane and spring break ended.

Across the country you flew.

Back to school.

Back to work.

Through summer and an internship.

Opportunity and papers.

Talk of job and studies galore.

Late night calls and walls of text.

A flurry of messages.

Arguments.

Cold shoulders.

Apologies.

Fall Semester.

Winter break.

Spring Semester.

Spring break.

Rinse and repeat.

Donnie became your only airport ride. No matter when you came, everyone knew he was designated. It became common knowledge as much as anything else. As much as your friendship, everyone knew that was to be expected.

You grew.

Four years passed.

You found yourself yet again coming into LaGuardia on the cusp of spring. You had plans for furthering education on this side of the country. California had been nice, but Donnie had mentioned a study once that stuck with you. Eight in ten adults lived within 100 miles of where they grew up. It seemed like such a silly statistic four years ago when you’d made your college choice. You weren’t sure if you necessarily understood now, but there was a certain comfort in knowing you’d be in New York for the foreseeable future.

It helped that you grew up in such an amazing city.

What a town, Donnie would say reverent regardless of whether it was bad or good.

Shouldering your bag, you walked out to baggage claim. While the spot may have changed and the man was still growing like a weed, Donnie would still always appear to you between crowd waves. A sort of fate, he’d part pedestrians like the sea and he looked up from where he was tinkering with something on his gauntlet.

A smile spread on his face and he was in motion.

You had to keep up.

A hop and a skip and you collided in a spin. Twirling out for the sake of it, you both murmured affections until he rooted your face out from his shoulder. There he dipped you first for the sake of flair, but brought you up to properly execute what came next.

Your hands tucked behind his neck.

He locked his arms around your waist.

His gaze poured over you.

You tugged him lightly as he was taking his time.

He was hovering, no doubt committing all of this to memory.

You didn’t fault him; you had started dating a few weeks ago.

He’d blurted out the question saying he was unable to wait until spring break or even until you graduated with your undergrad.

You were long past first kiss territory, but this would be the first with the label.

“Donatello.”

“Not to be confused with the famous Italian sculptor.” He staunchly said the same thing he had since the moment he’d first introduced himself.

“Please.”

“Please what?” He jeered.

“Kiss me, dum-dum.” You pulled him as hard as he’d allow and he snuck in a laugh before your lips met.

You would always appreciate this time of year for its change.

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#me #rottmnt #rottmnt donnie x reader #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt x reader #donatello hamato #donnie x reader #rise donnie #rise donnie x reader #rottmnt donatello #rottmnt donnie #fanfiction #my fanfiction

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ch3rriewine · 1 year ago

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Photo Booth Kissin' {P.P.}

summary: Peter's an awkward loverboy, but he's your awkard loverboy.

warnings: none i think just fluff :3, TASM!Peter Parker x reader hehe, no use of y/n, reader is kinda like super girly w the bows and sparkles idk

a/n: I HAVENT WRITTEN IN MONTHS SORRY here tho!

Peter’s life was boring—peaceful, but boring. Don’t get him wrong; being Spiderman is cool and all, but Peter Parker’s life could use some work. The most exciting thing that has happened to him recently was the time he got two yolks in one egg. Riveting stuff, right?

During another one of his literature classes that he doesn’t know why he took, he spots you. With a bow in your hair and a knit sweater falling over your figure, your head propped on your manicured hand while scribbling notes with the other. You sit in front of him and if Peter squints, he can see the small doodles littering the pages. Before he knows it, the professor announces that the lecture is done for the day. Peter panics; he wants to talk to you before you disappear and turn out to be a dream, but what would he even say? Doesn’t matter anymore since he chases after you to the door.

“Hey,” he says, looking a tad flushed after tripping over someone's water bottle.

“Oh, hi” you respond, your eyes a little widened at the sudden interaction.

“I, uh, I’m Peter” he say, sticks out his hand for you to shake. You take it and tell him your name. He repeats it in his head about a hundred times.

“I just, uhm, wanted to ask about…” he trails off, trying to remember if there were any assignments given. “The essay he said we had to do, yeah. When is it due again?” he hopes to any higher being that there was an essay due soon.

“Ah, yeah, it’s due next Monday” you reply, giving him a tight-lipped smile, ready to go back to your dorm.

“Cool, uhm, thanks! See you around, hopefully” with that, he bolts, leaving you confused and flushed. Hopefully

The cute boy in your class wants to see you around.

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

Two days later, Peter sees you again. It’s in the same class, and you’re as pretty as ever. He psyches himself up to sit next to you.

You look up from your laptop when he asks you if he can sit next to you. You nod, of course, and smile. He looks nervous, with fingers tapping on the table and cheeks a little red. It’s cute.

“Have you started on that essay?” you ask, trying to start conversation since it looks like he won’t.

“Huh? What essay? We have an essay?” he turns to face you, eyes wide.

“Yeah, the one you asked me about?” you laugh a little.

“Oh, no, I didn’t” his shoulders slump back down, and you smile at him.

“I didn’t either; I had other work to finish” he stares at you a little; it’s flattering, really. How shy he is around you. He barely knows you, but he’s convinced himself that you’re the greatest thing ever. He also may have looked up your instagram and fallen even harder as he looked at all your posts. Peter now knows what you ate at Thanksgiving 3 years ago.

“Same, I’m in STEM so you could imagine” he says, resting his head onto the table. Sleep deprivation a thing he is well acquainted with, unfortunately.

“STEM, wow, you must be smart then. Why’re you taking a classic lit class then?” Sure, you might’ve slipped in a compliment; it's not a crime to flirt a little. It takes Peter a few seconds to respond as he processes what you said, you think he’s smart.

“Uh, I was going through a phase with classic lit at the time, and I’ve been lazy to drop it. And, uh, I’m not that smart—pretty average actually. Like the most moderate person ever” He’s rambling and kind of lying. He’s doing really well in his other classes.

“Yeah? I think you’re pretty smart if you’re in STEM. Not everyday a guy is both pretty and smart.” His cheeks turn even redder, if possible, and he makes a sort of out of breath sound. “If you need any help with this class, I’d be happy to give you my notes on the book”

Jesus, you’re gonna kill the poor boy.

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

From then on, you sit beside him and throw in some flirty comments while he struggles to reciprocate. It feels too good to be true, how you seem interested in him and how you eagerly talk to him after lectures, even giving hm your number to talk about “class”. He’s waiting for the day you ghost him.

“Hey, would you maybe want to, like, hang out? Like on a date or something? Or just as friends! Actually, yeah, just hang out as friends; forget I said date sorry,“ he flounders, waiting for the rejection. Oh God, he’s just messed up the whole friendship and you’re gonna think that he’s weird and a creep and-

“I’d love to go on a date, Peter,” you smile “I was waiting for you to ask.”

“Oh, great, is Saturday at 3 okay? I’ll meet you outside your building and we could walk to that arcade?” He asks, eyes hopeful.

“Saturday at 3 is great. I love arcades, but you have to help me with the claw machines” For someone so smart and handsome, he doesn’t let himself think people like him.

“See you Saturday, Peter” you tiptoe to kiss his cheek, leaving sticky residue from your sparkly gloss and walk to your next class. He stands in place, a little starstruck and a lot flustered. He leaves the lipgloss there.

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

Saturday finally comes, and now it’s your turn to be nervous. You’ve switched outfits countless times, your hair is out of place, and your makeup doesn’t seem to flatter you. You’ve settled on a pretty blue dress with tights to protect you from the small chill. Two little bows clipped into your hair and knit cardigan falling over your shoulders—makeup finally looking presentable enough with maybe a little too much glitter on your eyes, but whatever. Your phone chimes as you’re applying pink sparkly gloss, and your heart skips a beat. He’s here.

You throw your phone and lip gloss in your purse and bolt out the door. You spot him outside your building, as promised. He looks wonderful. Brown sweater and worn-in denim jeans—you can’t believe he’s so shy around you when he looks like that. He finally spots you, and wow, he thinks.

“Hey," he scolds himself for being so casual when he should be whisking you away to Italy, or something. He could’ve at least gotten you flowers.

“Hi, you look great,” you say in front of him, and seeing you up close is making him fall even harder, if possible.

“You look, wow, you’re just, wow” he can’t even believe you’re into him.

“Cmon, I wanna win some plushies,” you say, grabbing his hand and pulling him along. He grips your hand harder and laces your fingers.

The walk is calm and the air is starting to get cool. You talk about class and a show you started. Peter listens intently, making mental notes about what you like and don’t like. Your hands stay intwined, and his thumb traces patterns on the back of your hand. He’s gotten more comfortable and less panicky in your presence, so you get to see his personality shine through. He’s incredibly funny. You can’t stop laughing on your way there, and he can’t stop thinking of more things to make you laugh.

The arcade is dark, with flashing lights from every game. Peter goes to buy some tokens, refusing your offer to pay half. Grabbing Peter’s hand and making a beeline for the claw machines, everyone knows they’re rigged, but you don’t care. You eagerly take the tokens and attempt to win the Kuromi plushie. After the 5th? 6th attempt? When the claw has dropped the plushie, you give up.

“Why do they do this to people! It’s false hope!” you whine to Peter as he laughs at your pout.

“Lemme try,” he nudges you over and puts in a token.

You watch with eyebrows furrowed as he wins it on his first attempt.

“What the hell, Peter?” you crouch to pull the plushie from the machine.

“What? Do you not like it?” He faces you, examining the stuffed, is she a rabbit? What animal even is Kuromi?

“I love her; just, how did you win it?” You look up at him incredulously. He must have some weird power that makes him win every claw machine.

“Oh, I don’t know; just position it right?” He laughs, his eyes crinkling in the process. You want to smooth them out with your fingers.

“Thank you!” you’re genuinely really excited over a cheap stuffed toy, not because you really wanted it, but because Peter won it for you. You wrap your arms around his neck in thanks. Peter freezes. He fees like a teenager at how he’s reacting to a hug of all things. He snaps back and hugs you back. You pull away to kiss his cheek. This is the second time you’ve kissed his cheek, and he doesn’t know how he’ll ever get used to it.

“Lets go play games, pretty boy,” pulling away and leaving Peter to gather his brain and follow along.

You watch as he plays Pac-Man; its silly, but you love his face when he’s focused. Brows furrowed and lips in a thin line. He really is the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen. And he’s infatuated with you! Of all people! You swear half the girls in the class have a crush on him, but he gets nervous around you. You play some air-hockey, which you won (he let you win), and he won you some more plushies and some candy at the infamous claw machines.

When the games get old, the two of you leave the building. The sun is setting at this point, and you’re dreading leaving him.

“Oh, look! There’s a photo booth!” you point, excitedly tugging on his arm. “We should take some pictures.” you drag him into the booth, both of your thighs squished together and his legs at an awkward angle. He feeds the machine a few bucks, and the screen starts to count down.

You put on a sickly sweet smile, scrunching your eyes while Peter smiles big with pearly white teeth on display. The second photo you lean into Peter and he wraps his arm around you, pulling your body close to his. The third photo, you go for it. You grab his face and kiss him. His hands stay in the air as the glitter on your lips transfers to his. You taste like vanilla. You pull away, a little anxious that he didn’t want it. Those thoughts get pushed away when he grabs the sides of your face and kisses you until you can’t think. His hands are warm and big covering your cheeks as his lips move against yours. You reach up to wrap your arms around his neck once more and deepen the kiss. Your lips move together in tandem as he strokes your cheeks with his thumbs, the movement comforting.

The fourth photo is blurry, and you walk out with all your lipgloss on Peter’s lips.

#tasm peter parker #tasm!peter fluff #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter parker x y/n #tasm peter x reader #tasm spiderman #tasm!peter imagine #tasm fanfiction #tasm peter parker x reader #tasm!peter x you #tasm!peter x y/n #peter parker

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almostgenerallyalways · 2 years ago

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mamas (don’t let your babies grow up to be cowboys)

Pairing: Jake Seresin x fem!reader Category: angst / fluff / run-on sentences Word count: 3,1k CW: language, I’ve been to Texas once okay forgive me, divorce Author’s note: this was supposed to be a holiday fic but I got stuck on it and almost abandoned it, but here it is rescued from my drafts, shoutout to all the amazing tgm fic writers your writing truly astounds me

Summary: Every year around the holidays, you hear from your ex. This year when you don’t respond, he decides to show up at your door.

2022

Jake UT [November 23, 2022 at 10:24 PM]

Hey stranger

Visiting my mom for Thanksgiving

How’ve you been?

You ignore the message. How you’ve been in the last twelve months is not something you feel up to discussing with him.

You spend the next weeks dealing with crisis after crisis at work, leaning into the chaos like you have been all year. Your personal life? Garbage fire. Reconfiguring your entire pump setup two weeks before going to production, because the DoC slapped an import ban on one of your key suppliers in China? You’re on top of it.

But then, the week before Christmas, another message comes in:

Jake UT [December 17th, 2022 at 3:47 PM]

Hey

In town for the holidays

Would love to see you if you’re free

Brett welcome too, of course

A pang in your chest, but curiosity gets the better of you, so you text back:

Thanksgiving and Christmas? Judy must be thrilled.

You’ve met Jake’s mom all of one time, ten years ago, but she made a lasting impression. Fiercely protective of her only son, she’d been wary of you at first (you were, in order of importance: Too non-Texan, too vegetarian, and too focused on trying to rescue an almost-due group project for your sustainable water management class in which no one was pulling their weight).

And yet, over the Thanksgiving weekend you’d spent at Jake’s mother’s house in Colton, she’d slowly warmed up to you. You’d asked her endless questions about her job as a project manager at Austin-Bergstrom, and she’d poured you half glasses of wine (still exotic, to you, back then) at the kitchen island, shooing Jake back into the living room.

She’d even called you, after you guys broke up, to say she was sorry to hear it, and to tell you to call her up any time you needed someone to talk to. You’d tried your best to keep your voice even, not to break down in tears for the seventh time that day, and never called her again.

* * *

“Dude. Put your phone away for two minutes.”

Jake looks up apologetically at his friend, and pockets the device. “Sorry. Just expecting a text.”

Sandeep holds out his bottle of Lone Star, and Jake clinks it with his own. “It’s good to see you, man. Sorry I wasn’t around at Thanksgiving, we were visiting Jed’s family in NC. I didn’t expect you to be back so soon.”

Jake takes a swig of his beer, the cold liquid feeling like a balm to his throat. “Yeah, well. It’s been a big year, work-wise, so they owed me one. I wanted to spend some extra time with my mom.”

Bringing up his drink to toast again, Sandeep says: “Here’s to you, bud. And to getting that permanent assignment in California. At least we knew where to send our holiday card this year.”

Condensation drips down the neck of his bottle, and Jake spins it slowly in his hand, stopping himself from peeling off the label. He feels on edge, unmoored, despite this 6th Street dive bar being as familiar to him as the back of his own hand.

Sandeep’s got his number. “Seeing anyone else while you’re in town? I don’t know, Myers?”

Jake doesn’t look up, but feels his cheeks heat up fractionally.

His friend takes another swig of his beer. “I guess I should stop calling her Myers. You know, with the divorce and all.”

The bottle escapes Jake’s grip, and amber liquid sloshes across the table, into Sandeep’s lap. “Shit, Seresin! Grab some napkins, will you?”

* * *

2012

You’d always known there was an expiration date on this thing with Jake, which is why you’d been reluctant to meet his mom to begin with.

You wanted fundamentally different things. He, the Navy: Adventure, excitement, a chance to serve his country. You: Stability. A family. A place where you belonged.

Both of you: an opportunity to prove yourself.

It’s civil, as far as breakups go.

“You always knew I wanted to fly.” He says, over breakfast at Magnolia Café. There’s a hard set to his jaw that makes you soften in contrast, because of course you do, everyone who’s ever been near Jake Seresin for longer than ten minutes knows he’s always wanted to fly.

From your first date he told you about how Judy used to park him in her office at the airport when her summer childcare fell through; little Jake happily spending the day watching commercial jets taxiing and taking off in quick succession.

How her coworkers, the civilian engineers who’d stayed on after Bergstrom Air Force Base was decommissioned and commercialized, would regale him with stories about generations of F-4 Phantoms. Or the British Airways Concorde, one of only twenty of the ill-fated aircraft ever made, bringing the Queen to Austin in a little yellow hat. The Reconnaissance Air Meet bringing in the best fighter pilots from across all divisions of the military and abroad, to compete and show off their skills.

Jake would listen to them with stars in his eyes.

You pick at your migas, your appetite gone. “I know, Jake. I would never stop you.”

But you look at him, and you know your face mirrors his determination. “But I can’t come with you, Jake. I can’t start my career following you around from camp to base year to year. I’m forty-thousand dollars in debt getting this degree, and I need to follow my own plan.”

You haven’t moved in together, though Jake spends most of his nights at your tiny off-campus apartment, where you’ve made him countless cups of black coffee trying to fuel weekend study sessions. Where he would come in past midnight, back from the late shift at his part-time job at the H-E-B, and bury his face in your neck, waking you up even though you’d been asleep for hours. Where you would hold his sleeping head to your chest, his deep breathing somehow felt inside of you, and run your fingers up and down the bare skin of his back, trying to memorize him.

You’re twenty-two, you tell yourself. This is not the end of the world.

So you see him off at the front door, a box of his things clutched to his chest, and you force yourself to be strong. “You better be,” and you try to smile up at him, but you’re not sure you’re doing a convincing job, “You better be the best goddamn pilot the Navy has ever seen, Jake.”

For a second, he looks like he wants to say something, but then he just puts down the box, and pulls you into a last embrace. You sink into it, the fundamentally safe feeling of his arms around you, then make yourself pull away after a minute, pretending you don’t see the wet stains on his shirt.

Later you look at all the spaces in your apartment he is now conspicuously absent from (no dog-eared volume of Game of Thrones on the nightstand, no boots by the door), and it hits you then; the crevasse he’s left in your life. It may run deeper than you thought.

* * *

Jake had gone to Officer Candidate School in Rhode Island, then designator-specific training in Pensacola, Florida, and done his best not to think about you.

It helped that his days were intense and exhausting. It helped that, on liberty weekends, girls would flock to him and his friends in bars.

It helped to be several states away from you.

It helped to be living his dream.

* * *

There is a bit of a backslide, that first Thanksgiving after, where you both think it can’t hurt to see each other for one drink, for old time’s sake, which ends in him taking you up against the door in your new apartment, your legs wrapped around his waist because he does not have the willpower or presence of mind to figure out the way to your bedroom.

He knows it was a mistake, at about five AM the next day, when the blue light of morning starts streaming through a gap in the curtains, illuminating your tousled hair fanned out over the pillow, the steady rise and fall of your chest so familiar to him he could cry.

Untangling himself from you hurts, and he does perhaps the most cowardly thing he ever will: he sneaks out before you wake up. But next week he’s shipping out, and the thought of the same dead-end conversation over coffee made just the way he likes it is unbearable, so he makes himself walk away.

Somehow it’s worse, the second time around.

* * *

You’d met someone else, like he’d known you would. He sees the engagement announcement on Facebook, browsing on his phone between drills, and likes the post. It’s the third year he’s been away, and he’s at TOPGUN by then, so he has a lot on his mind. He has a girlfriend, even, a local: cute as a button, beats him savagely at pool.

It doesn’t fully hit him until the first time he sees you with your then-fiancé, at a little holiday reunion of college friends. He sees you with that ring on your finger, another man’s arm around your shoulders, and he gets an acute sense of the alternate reality that could’ve been his.

It feels a little like losing altitude too fast.

Your initial reception of him is understandably frosty, but you seem too genuinely happy to hold a grudge. By the third round, when he sidles up to you at the bar, you give him a quick hug, looking up at him with a smile that squeezes his heart: “I’m so proud of you, Jake.”

He nods, not quite trusting himself to speak, and pulls you back in, just for a moment, tucking your head under his chin. You smell like apple and magnolia, like nights spent with his nose pressed into your back.

You don’t invite him to the wedding, and he’s all too glad not to have to make up an excuse not to go.

* * *

Things settle, after that. Jake gets deployed and reassigned, breaks up with his girlfriend and eventually gets another. You get promoted to senior engineer, then project lead. You see each other, not every year but close enough, sometimes with your husband there, sometimes without.

He braces himself for the next Facebook post; that you’re pregnant, but it never comes. Over time, even that seems to lose some of its potential emotional impact on him.

Until three weeks ago, when you don’t text him back.

* * *

2022

You kick your shoes off in the entryway, then head into the kitchen to pour a glass of water. Before you can reach the tap, the doorbell rings, and for a second you think somehow, some way, your terrible Bumble date has followed you home.

Grabbing the biggest kitchen knife you own off the magnet strip over the sink, just in case, you creep back to the door, barefoot, to press your face up to the peephole.

You don’t really expect to see the guy you just left, the ice in your glass not even melted before you were thinking up excuses to get out of there, but you sure as fuck don’t expect to see Jake either.

The door feels heavier than usual as you slowly slide it open, or maybe you’re just a little stunned. The night air hits your skin, and you can make out the sound of dogs barking in the distance.

For a long moment, Jake just looks at you, but then he says: “What were you planning on doing with that, sweetheart?”

You follow the jut of his chin down the line of your arm, and contemplate the knife for a second, Jake’s sudden appearance having made you forget all about it.

“I thought someone might have followed me here.”

“Ah.” He says, a spark in his eyes, clearly suppressing a smile. “If you were going to defend yourself in hand-to-hand combat, a knife is a terrible choice. I could give you some tips, though.”

Putting the damn thing down on your entryway console, you turn back to look at him. It’s not cold, exactly, in December in South Central Austin, but he looks underdressed: a long-sleeved light grey t-shirt, hands shoved in the pockets of a faded pair of jeans.

He looks good, you can’t deny it: he’s always had an immediate effect on you.

Jake, your somewhat gangly, sweet college boyfriend had it. Jake, ten years of military training later: older, filled out, fine crinkly lines starting to appear at the corners of his eyes (helped along by the California sun and God knows what far-off places), irrevocably still does.

You shake your head, trying to clear your thoughts. “What are you doing here, Jake?”

At that, his expression sobers, and he looks at you for a long moment before he says:

“You didn’t tell me.”

* * *

Fucking Sandeep, you think, rubbing the back of your hand across your eyes, because that fucker has not been subtle with the hints lately, tutting like a Victorian matron while you pass the time evaluating your Bumble matches with his husband during Monday night football’s ad breaks.

The granite of your kitchen countertop feels reassuringly cool beneath your thighs, and you take a deep breath, keeping your eyes on the tile below:

“I wasn’t ready.”

Jake huffs, or so you assume by the little sound that escapes him, as you determinedly face only his sneakers: “It’s been a year. You sure told everyone else we know.”

That makes your head snap up, emotion rising in your chest in a way you don’t like, have always had to tamp down when it comes to him, these last ten years. “Fuck off, Jake. You know it’s different when it comes to you.”

He leans back against the fridge, arms folded, just slightly lifting his right eyebrow at you in that irritating way of his: “I could’ve been there for you.”

Fuck it, you think, all cards on the table then. “I was heartbroken, and embarrassed, and trying to figure out how to exist on my own again after being married for five years to someone who didn’t turn out to be who I thought he was, Jake. Sorry my first impulse wasn’t to come cry on my hometown hero ex-boyfriend’s shoulder.”

His eyes soften, and he pushes off the fridge to come stand next to you, running his fingers over the edge of the countertop. “I’m sorry,” he says, voice quieter than a moment ago. “I’m being a dick. It’s just, you have to know, I would’ve been there for you.”

He pauses for a second, takes a deep breath: “It’s always been different when it comes to you too, sweetheart.”

You start to shake, a little, or maybe it’s your imagination. But your voice wavers as you say his name, everything about your tone a warning: “Jake.”

He closes his eyes, shakes his head: “Our timing sucked, and I don’t regret our decision from back then. I’m proud of who I’ve become in the last ten years, and I’m proud of you. You think I don’t keep up with what you’re doing? The articles you’ve published?”

This stuns you, momentarily. “No, Jake Seresin. If I’m completely honest, I didn’t think you gave a shit about the latest advances in Texas drought management.”

Just being near him, the familiar smell of him bringing up memories you’ve had years to unsuccessfully repress, is overpowering.

He makes it worse by turning to you, face so goddamn heartbreakingly earnest as he says: “I couldn’t give you what you deserved, ten years ago, but I always told myself, if I was ever in a position to…” He swallows. “I tried to forget about it when you got married, I tried to root for you and Brett, I swear.”

His hand settles next to your thigh, not quite touching, and your hand comes down on its own accord to cover his. He straightens almost imperceptibly, uses his other palm to wipe a tear that’s made its way down your cheek.

Cupping your face, he draws a deep breath. “I have a permanent assignment now, in San Diego. I know it’s…”

“Jake.” You interrupt, squeezing your eyes shut, grabbing the hem of his shirt. “I’m not remotely the same person I was back then.”

He moves to stand in front of you now, and you draw him in between your thighs. Suddenly it seems imperative that you feel him, that he holds you.

Dipping his head to yours, you can hear the smile in his voice, watery, tentative: “Then let me get to know you again. Get to know me again.” He leans one hand on the counter, the other tracing your cheekbone. “No pressure. I’m totally very cool about this. Whatever you want.”

You laugh, a little choked up through tears, but genuine. It feels liberating. “What if I say yes? How does this work?”

His smile broadens, eyes crinkling at the corners, and he’s so goddamn close, nudging your nose with his. “Come visit me, for a start. I’ll show you the sights.”

You draw him in a little closer still, legs wrapping around his waist, one hand finding its way into his close-cropped hair, and you could cry for how familiar he still feels after all these years.

But when you close the gap between your lips and his, it’s like coming home and yet not at all: he’s different and rougher and sharper and it floods you with emotion, something big and terrifying and old and new.

He leans into the kiss, grinning, cards his fingers through your hair before he moves to cover your chin, your brow, the space next to your ear with kisses, and you remember this with a jolt to your heart – how singularly intense it is to be the focus of Jake Seresin, like the strength of the sun is aimed at you, how he never does anything by halves.

You take his chin in your hand, kiss him again for good measure, before saying, into the stubble of his jaw: “One visit. No pressure.”

The grin he gives you in return could power half this city: “One visit. No pressure.”

He dips his head to yours again, kissing the skin behind your ear as he tells you: “Southern California has a lot of drought problems, you know. I’ve actually been reading some really scary articles about it.”

i hope you enjoyed :):) - if you liked this I hope you’ll check out some of my other work:

where the wild things are (rooster x reader)

cross my heart (hangman x reader) masterlist

#tgm fic #tgm fanfiction #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake hangman seresin x you #top gun maverick fic #why am i like this i stg

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shootingstarwritings · 2 months ago

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Body a Day #9: School

Being the out and proud art teacher at a high school deep into the Bible belt wasn’t easy, but Manuel ‘Manny’ Martinez did his best to make it work. Although he knew that his hometown wasn’t perfect, he simply had too many roots here to let it all go. And it wasn’t all that bad. Despite some glares from a few of the parents here and there, Manny made sure to with Pride; Pride not for himself, but for all the students that lived closeted and unsure of themselves.

Because of that, Manny tried to petition to the principal, Harrison Hayden, regarding a Gay-Straight Alliance for the students to have. “You’re quite tenacious, Mr. Martinez,” said Principal Hayden, looking quite unimpressed. “This is… what, the fifth or sixth time you’ve asked me to allow your gay club?”

Manny didn’t miss the way that Principal Hayden always used ‘Mr. Martinez.’ He called just about every other member of that by their first name. However, Manny didn’t allow that to bother him. “Well, it’s not really a ‘gay club.’ It’s more a place for students of all types to come together and—” He was cut off as Principal Hayden cleared his throat and then talked about how much the parents of the student body would protest such a club and cause a scene.

Manny tried to explain the marginalized students, but it was soon clear that Hayden wasn’t going to listen.

That night, he mentioned the whole ordeal to his partner and husband, Terry. “I have to admit,” said Manny between spoonfuls of spicy spaghetti, “This was the most PC way anyone has even told me, ‘No way faggot,’ before.”

Terry clicked his tongue. “Piece of shit, principal,” he muttered as he wound up about half his spaghetti onto his fork. “Straights just can’t comprehend the situation not only being all about them.”

Manny nodded but shrugged. He wasn’t sure what to do know. There were plenty of students that had expressed interest, but Principal Hayden didn’t seem to think they were worth considering in comparison to the rest of the school. “If only there was a way to change his mind… or just changing the principal.”

“Hmm… well, there might be a way for me to pull a few strings,” said Terry. As he hummed in thought, Manny felt chills run down his spine as he saw a familiar and maniacal grin.

“Terry, no.”

“Oh, c’mon! As if you even know what I’m thinking.”

“I don’t need to be a mind-reader to know that it’s insane. Don’t you remember what happened last time? I still have nightmares.”

“Like you didn’t enjoy me giving you that boning,” said Terry. Last Thanksgiving, Terry had offered to use some kind of technological app to allow the couple to shapeshift for the long weekend. Unfortunately, due to some kind of glitch in the program, Terry and Manny ended up turning into dogs for a few days. It was only by some divine miracle that they didn’t end up as fixed or female dogs, according to Terry. “Point is!” said Terry, motioning to move on with the conversation, “This time, I’m gonna do a test run to make sure that my little app works properly. Trust!”

Without waiting for Manny’s response, Terry rose from his seat and rushed over to his study—completely forgetting that it was his turn to do the dishes. “Never marry a programmer,” sighed Manny, but he still couldn’t help but smile. That manic look in his eyes, the excitement in his voice… Manny couldn’t help but love all of it. It was pretty hot, too.

Terry spent the rest of the night in his study, only coming out as Manny, clad in just a pair of boxers, was preparing for bed. Before Terry said anything, Manny walked over to his dresser and handed him a glass of water.

“Oh, thanks!” said Terry before gulping it down. “Hey, how’d—”

“Every time you lock yourself in your study you always forget to eat and drink,” said Manny, chuckling.

Terry smiled, almost swooning. “You know me so well, honey. So, ready for the test run?”

“Test run?”

“Yeah. Don’t worry, I promise I’ll be the only doing the dangerous stuff,” he said, practically bouncing from foot to foot in excitement. When Terry was that excited, Manny found himself having a hard time rejecting him. Eventually, the couple shut off the lights and cuddled together in bed. For whatever reason, Terry hadn’t elaborated, but just insisted that they go to bed like normal. “You’ll see, just watch!”

Manny lied on his side and waited. He was the smaller spoon even though he was physically larger. But after a few minutes, Terry eventually drew back. “Hmm…? Terry?” Just before Manny looked back, he felt some kind of slimy tentacle-like creature force itself into his mouth. “Hmm?! Mm—!” Mmffm!” He tried to struggle, but found his limbs felt heavy and almost completely unresponsive.

Just what was happening? What was wrong with Terry and why did this feel so right? Manny wasn’t sure what Terry had planned, but he couldn’t help but enjoy that wonderful feeling of being penetrated. It was usually him being the top while Terry would hum or just get distracted, so allowing Terry to take the lead was a nice change of pace… whatever this was.

It truly felt as though something was robbing every part of Manny. First, the control over his fingers and toes disappeared first. Then, his legs and arms became numb as a warm yet foreign feeling engulfed his writhing body. It was like soaking in a hot spring or getting a massage by an expert masseur. “Ohh… oh god, Terry, don’t stoooop…!” Manny writhed and trembled on the bed with such intensity that he was worried his brain would short-circuit.

As Terry’s essence finally became coating Manny’s brain, Manny peeled away his boxers and began to jerk himself off. “Ohhh, it feels so good!” It was like making love together for the first time. Terry’s essence filled each crevice and wrinkle, lighting up each and every single one of Manny’s pleasure centers with such intensity that Manny’s vision went white. “OHHH, FUCK!” Manny’s hips thrust high into the air, cum rocketing out of his barely-touched cock as Manny happily became a passenger in his own body.

What had occurred was nothing short of miraculous for the young couple. Panting, they lied, together in Manny’s body, on the bed that they had each called home so many times. A slight sheen of sweated coated Manny’s face and chest, but neither of them minded. No, there was something comfortable about lying in one’s own natural musk.

Eventually, using Manny’s voice, Terry said, “Y’know our plan for tomorrow, right?” Manny, somehow knew exactly what was running through Terry’s mind. No words needed to be shared, Terry was just indulging in the subtle yet pleasurable joys of using Manny’s voice as his own. They shared one heart, one mind, and one body. It was almost depressing, for both of them, to even think about separating.

“But for tonight, we can be like this,” said both Terry and Manny. They hugged themselves and enjoyed the feeling of softly humping the sheets as they peacefully slumbered.

The following day went about as expected. “I’d like to just have a quick word afterschool,” said Terry with a smile that looked uncanny on Manny’s softer face. Principal Hayden didn’t seem to notice or care and just gave him a weary, “Sure.

“But, Mr. Martinez, I really doubt that you’ll be able to change my mind,” he said.

“I wouldn’t be too sure of that, sir,” said Terry, and inside Manny couldn’t help but chuckle.

Terry was at the principal’s door as the final bell rang. He slipped inside without knocking, a pool of Terry’s essence already filling up Manny’s mouth. “Mr. Martinez, can’t you at least knock?!” was the last thing Principal Hayden was able to say before a dark tendril shot its way into his mouth. With the waning control over Manny’s body he had left, Terry shut the door behind him to make sure no one could hear Hayden’s struggles.

Principal Hayden’s back curled into a C and his thighs quivered as more and more of Terry’s essence invaded his body. The whites of his eyes slowly filled up with that shade of dark as his weighty figure convulsed. Any struggles and moans were muffled thanks to Terry’s entrance.

Soon, all of Terry had flown into Principal Hayden’s mouth with a wet slurp! Manny rested his palms on his knees, panting. Already Terry’s lack of presence in his body weighed heavily on his psyche. It had only been a few seconds, but Manny dearly missed him.

Luckily, if everything worked out, they would be reunited much sooner than later.

Hayden’s body came under Terry’s control much faster than Manny. “Didn’t want to play around?” Manny asked with a smirk.

‘Hayden’ smiled back. “Nah, love,” said Terry as he rolled his shoulders, trying to stretch out a crick. “This body ain’t as cute as yours. But it always feels nice to dominate a homophobic fuck.” The belt became undone, and soon Hayden’s slacks were on the floor. Leaning back, Terry raised Hayden’s legs and rested them on the chair’s armrests. His ass was in full-view, ready to be bred. “Before I approve of your club, Manny,” Terry forced Hayden to say, “I need a bit of convincing. What say you and I talk, man-to-man?”

“Of course, Principal Hayden,” said Manny, unzipping his own jeans and stroking his hardening dick.

~o~

The next day was quite the blur for Principal Hayden. Not only has he apparently approved of Mr. Marti—no, Manny’s GSA club, but he had even given statements regarding the reaction from outraged parents. “All students of all walks of life are welcome in our community,” was his thesis as he spoke to news station that had covered the story.

When had he become so passionate in such a thing? Hayden wondered that to himself as he showered for the night. Strangely enough, it felt like he was waking up from a dream as he showered. Was he disassociating the whole time while he didn’t notice? No, he still remembered doing everything he had done the past few days. It felt like only just now did he realize what he was able to do.

However, one person in Hayden’s life seemed happy with his decision. As Hayden stepped out of the shower, he saw his wife, Natasha, watching the news and looking giddy. “Hey,” she whispered as he took a seat next to her. “Do you remember my sister’s kid? Well, she came out a trans recently. Her name’s Arianna now.” Natasha leaned toward Hayden and rested her head on his shoulder. With her free hand, she rubbed his belly. “Girl keeps talking about how excited she is to attend your school next year.” Natasha kissed Hayden on the cheek. “You did well today, dear. Her and loads of other kids are real happy about what you did.”

Huh, guess I did…

~o~

Manny looked up from his book as he saw Terry saunter in while panting. “What took you so long?” he chuckled as Terry collapsed on the bed.

Voice muffled, Terry answered, “Just had to make sure the bastard didn’t throw you under the bus.” He turned to his side and faced Manny. “I had to make sure he didn’t change his mind last minute or tried to screw you over, but it’s all good now.”

“Why? Did you do something to him?”

“Nah, nothing like that. Just… he realized the lesson that every bigot’s got to at some point: someone y’know’s got a flag of their own.”

“Well said, dear. So, I’m guess you’re far too tired to go at it tonight?” In response, Terry began to snore. Sighing dreamily, Manny cuddled with his husband and pecked him on the lips. “Good night, dear. Thanks for everything.”

#male possession #male body possession #body a day

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doctorbeth · 2 years ago

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A Romper Room Doll

Sometimes patients have had many and serious surgeries before they come to the hospital. Such was the case with this purple checked doll. She had been recovered at some point in the 80s, but now, as her person wrote "I think at this point, every area is a problem area." Here are her diagnosis photos:

And this is what she would have looked like originally (it isn't her, it's a twin):

Fortunately, I knew we could match her checks quite closely, but not her dress. Her person was fine with that though, she could have her own fashion sense. :-) We agreed that the doll would come to the hospital and I would remove her old layers, then add stuffing as needed, recover her, give her new hair, reembroider her smile, replace her button nose and eyes, and then give her a new dress. No spa for the doll.

Surgery proceeded and in due course, she was feeling much better and ready to make some fashion choices:

(her person's reaction was "Oh my gosh she is beautiful!!! She is exactly the same, just a much better version. Absolutely perfect! I am so glad I found you! ")

There were many fabrics to choose from (we were keeping the dress style the same). Velours and calicos and hearts:

White with pink dots (a flannel) was the chosen fabric. Soon, she was sporting her new dress and ready to fly home:

Her person wrote:

She is soooooo cute! Perfect, perfect, perfect! I love the dress. At first I wasn’t going to have you make it, but I’m sure glad I did. You’ve gone above and beyond the expectations I had!

But that wasn't the end of the story... the doll returned home just after Thanksgiving and her person wrote again:

I wanted you to know that I received my doll the day after thanksgiving. The pictures you sent were one thing, but when I saw her in person, I couldn’t believe my eyes. The details! The stitching! The extra little touches! When I had her recovered so many years ago, I could have cried. I think I actually did cry. She wasn’t my doll anymore and she looked like she would fall apart again. Not only have you restored to to what she originally was, you have also made her look indestructible. You are like a fairy godmother. The world needs more special people in it like you! I honestly can’t say thank you enough.

And one last note... when I started making dolls, I made lots of fairy godmothers, because I thought everyone should have a fairy godmother -- I even had it as the logo for the dolls I made! So for someone to say what I do is "like a fairy godmother"... well it's one of the nicest things anyone could ever say.

I hope all of you have your dreams come true... with or without fairy godmothers.

#doll repair #doll hospital #cloth doll #cloth doll repair #romper room doll #cloth doll hospital #doll clothes

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greensagephase · 11 months ago

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Blanca Navidad (Nonviolent Communication Christmas One-Shot)

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x SpiderFemaleReader (colleagues to friends to lovers; currently in the friendship era, so no romance.) Summary: Christmas Eve at Miguel's. Word Count: 11,928 (someone come take my laptop from my hands) Warnings: Mention of injuries and near death experience (from the past). Some Spanish included but translations can be found at the end. Lots of Mexican/Latin food mentioned; you can find some of those items in this reference guide. Short A/N: This is a one-shot for my Nonviolent Communication fanfic but can be read as a standalone. Masterlist Songs inspo: "Last Christmas" - Wham! "Blanca Navidad" - Matisse, Ha*Ash "Noche de Paz" - Reik

Merry Christmas to those who celebrate! 🎄

You repeatedly offered to host dinner at your place. It was only fair, you thought, especially after Miguel hosted Thanksgiving at his place but he refused. Each time. The only thing he asked of you was some dessert because apparently he really loves your baking, so that’s what you arrive with to his penthouse on Christmas Eve. It’s 7pm when you step out of the multidimensional portal and into Miguel’s living room. You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve been here now; how many times you’ve stepped into the space and hung out on his couches and talked with him over café de olla and pan dulce about anything and everything.

You glance at the fireplace as you hold on to your bag with baked desserts. Miguel’s penthouse is warm and cozy, a sharp contrast with the cold and freezing temperatures outside. You take a quick glance behind you to look out the windows. It’s supposed to snow at some point during the night and of course, the children and some adults were all excited about a white Christmas, or at least they seem so this morning when you did your morning patrol across your city. Your thoughts are interrupted when you hear steps, Miguel’s, coming from what you assume is the kitchen and dining area of his penthouse. You turn back and there he is. Once again, he’s wearing his apron since he’s cooking. He looks cozy and comfortable in a grey cable knit sweater, with the sleeves folded neatly up his forearms, and his dark pants. You notice his hair looks damp, which for some reason reminds you of the times you helped him showered so many months ago due to his injuries during a mission. Your free hand curls into a soft fist as you recall how his hair felt. You smile at him as he enters the living room.

“Hey, Merry Christmas Eve!” you greet him softly.

“Merry Christmas Eve,” he repeats with a soft smile as he approaches you. “Here, let me get that for you.”

You don’t decline or refuse his help, even though you don’t need it, when he motions for the bag with baked desserts. You’re learning to accept that Miguel is a gentleman no matter what, so you lift your bag for him to take.

“The food is ready, so we can go ahead and have dinner if you want,” he says with a soft grin, motioning for you to follow him into the kitchen, carrying your bag.

The scent of food engulfs you as you enter the kitchen behind Miguel, making you excited about the food. As you follow Miguel, you notice his Christmas tree is still up. You noticed it earlier this month when you came over for dinner on a Saturday. The sight was a nice surprise that day and even now, as it gives you hope that Miguel feels the holiday spirit this year.

Miguel sets your bag on the counter, careful to avoid messing anything up before he takes a glance at you. He noticed as soon as he saw you wearing a coat, reminding him that you were in Miles’s universe earlier. Mr. and Mrs. Morales invited the whole gang, including Miguel, to their annual Christmas Eve building party but much like last year, Miguel politely declined the invitation. Many things have happened over the year, the most important being Miguel starting his healing journey. He’s taken steps in the right direction, perhaps small ones, but they’re all significant to Miguel. Yet, when he was approached by Miles once again about the Christmas Eve party, he still couldn’t say yes to the invitation.

He’s tried more with the group over the last months but it’s still something he needs to work on. Besides, Miguel could already imagine the questioning of some guests. It would be too much for him. However, that didn’t mean that he wasn’t open to this. To dinner with you for Christmas Eve. He asked you a week later after Thanksgiving about your plans, wanting to plan better than he did for that dinner, especially because he knew you were likely invited to Miles’s building Christmas Eve party again. So, he asked you and you happily agreed to having dinner together. Except when you started talking about what you could cook, Miguel told you he was hosting and he shot down all your attempts, only asking for dessert, if you wanted. You wanted to make it even since he cooked for Thanksgiving but Miguel didn’t want you to stress out about cooking, considering you were invited to Miles’s universe. He didn’t want you to stress out over it or end up missing the party to cook, and besides, Miguel loves cooking and sharing food from his background with you. So, it was better this way for him. Miguel gestures to your coat now, a sign that you were at Miles’s universe a little while ago, if not minutes ago, out in the cold.

“May I?” he asks.

You look at yourself and realize. “Oh, my coat.” You smile at him and nod before he walks around you and helps you out of it. You thank him as he hangs your coat over a chair gently. “Oh, the Morales wish you a Merry Christmas and they sent food.”

Miguel nods, smiling softly as he watches you begin to unpack your bag. You set out the plates the Morales’s prepared, reminding you of last year when they sent you to drop off food for Miguel because they didn’t want him to spend Christmas Eve on his own.

“The fried plantains are to die for,” you tell him as you set down what you baked.

“I can imagine. Last year’s were great,” Miguel says quietly, remembering last Christmas Eve and feeling in awe that a whole year has passed already. Everything was so different then, he thinks. Last year, you were only supposed to drop the food off but you ended up staying until midnight. This year, however, you left the party early to join him for dinner. This year it was planned for you to come. Miguel smiles to himself. So much has changed. He clears his throat softly. “I will certainly eat some of that in a bit, especially the fried plantains. Do you want to have dinner now?” he asks. “Or, maybe you ate at the party and you’re not too hungry yet.”

“I’d love to have dinner. I didn’t eat much so I could save some space for dinner. I’m not missing out on anything,” you say with a soft chuckle that makes Miguel grin since he knows you like his cooking, something that pleases him a lot.

“Great, then we can start. I made some tinga since I know you love it,” he says as he gets into full host mode. “Go ahead and take a seat, make yourself comfortable.” Miguel walks around his kitchen island to the stove where he has multiple pots and pans of food, and possibly drinks like last year. “We can have it with burritos or with tostadas, whichever you like. There’s also…” Miguel continues, listing everything he has cooked, once again surprising you with his wide menu.

You listen intently, with a smile, as Miguel tells you about the pozole.

“I couldn’t decide, so I made a bit of both red and green. I think last year I made green, so hopefully you like the red one.”

You tell him you’re sure you will, considering everything he cooks is amazing. He goes on to tell you about the tamales and how he made different ones this year, too.

“There’s some with rajas de chile poblano and queso fresco. These are really good. And then, there’s the sweet ones. These were my favorite growing up,” Miguel tells you as he shows you small, pink tamales with dark spots here and there that indicate small bits from cinnamon sticks to sweeten the dough.

“Those would go very well with café de olla,” you tell him, which makes him grin.

“I thought you’d think so,” he replies before he taps a pot’s lid. “Café de olla right here.”

You grin back.

“Then, there’s some ponche and I made champurrado. I think - you might like it,” he says.

“If possible, I’m trying everything,” you tell him with a soft smile, which makes Miguel smile back.

“Well, no pressure but please feel welcome to. I hope you like it,” he says turning fully around to face you. “I forgot, there’s also buñuelos. So… what would you like to have first?” he asks, having a feeling that he knows what you’re going to go first for.

You stare at Miguel, knowing exactly what you’d like to eat first. “Maybe it’s surprising or not too surprising, but may I please have some burritos de tinga?”

Miguel chuckles. “Ya lo sabia. I had a feeling that was going to be your choice.”

You shrug with a little smile. “You tell me there’s burritos de tinga, I’m gonna go for that. It’s your fault I love them so much.”

Miguel shakes his head at you, amused. He grabs the flour tortillas from one of his counters and sets a pan to heat them up. “I’m glad you like them so much,” he says, truly meaning it. He’s cooked this dish for you a few times over the months ever since the two of you started to have dinner together every Saturday when it’s his turn to host. You tried it last Christmas Eve after he asked if you wanted to join him for dinner right on the spot when you dropped off the food the Morales family sent him. Come to think of it, Miguel realizes that was the very first time he ever invited you for dinner.

He had no plans to cook or to even be home. He had the opportunity to spend one Christmas with Gabriella and it was the first time he had celebrated in years after Gabriel’s death. After everything that happened with Gabriella and her universe and the events surrounding Miles, the last thing Miguel wanted to do was celebrate. He thought he’d spend the day at HQ like any other day, even if the building was vacant since everyone was off for the holidays. He tries to remember now, what was it that made him leave HQ and gave him the motivation to cook a bit of everything? He reasons now that it was probably nostalgia from those childhood days.

The holidays were always decent in the O’Hara household since those were rare days when his parents weren’t arguing or acting up. Those were also days in which Conchata treated him like a mother should. She spoiled Gabriel and him with sweet food like Mexican hot chocolate, buñuelos, and sweet tamales; even letting them add the food coloring to make the tamales colorful. Perhaps, it was those memories that made Miguel leave HQ last year. Either way, he hadn’t expected to be home. He had no decorations up, nor expected anyone but then there was Lyla, popping out of nowhere as he was finishing showering, while the last of the food was cooking, to tell him that you were looking for him because you had food from the Morales family. Before he knew it, he was inviting you to join him for dinner and you did, and Miguel enjoyed it.

“Do you want agua de Jamaica?” he asks, pausing his thoughts for now.

“Yes, I’d love some. I can get that for us, while you look after the tortillas,” you offer, standing up even though Miguel shakes his head. “I know you’re the host but you don’t have to do everything. You already cooked - I imagine for hours. Please, it’s the least I can do,” you tell him and he begrudgingly nods.

“Alright, if you wish to,” he says, which makes you smile as you reach for glasses from his cupboards since you know your way around his kitchen all too well, much like he knows his way around yours. You notice his pouting as he flips the tortillas, with bare hands as always, and hold back from chuckling. You walk to his fridge to retrieve the pitcher with agua de Jamaica, finding it endearing that Miguel insists on doing everything when he hosts. He tries to help even on the weekends when it’s your turn, always offering his help one way or another, and of course, you always decline but that doesn’t stop him from offering his help anyway.

You set the glasses and pitcher on the counter and walk towards him, standing a few feet away to give him space.

“May I help with something else?”

He shakes his head, meeting your gaze. “You’re my guest, Y/N. Please go ahead and take a seat. I’ll have your burritos ready in a minute or two.”

Your shoulders slump dramatically. “Really?”

Miguel’s eyebrow raises gently. “Really.”

You hum in response and walk away, defeated. With a sigh, you take a seat and now you pout but it’s quickly replaced with a grin when Lyla appears before you.

“Merry Christmas Eve, Y/N!” she says throwing her arms in the air in a cheery tone, making her santa hat move around dramatically.

“Merry Christmas Eve, Lyla.”

“I see you’ve been prohibited from the kitchen.”

You chuckle softly.

“I heard that, Lyla,” Miguel says, looking over his shoulder with a glare that Lyla dismisses.

“Merry Christmas Eve to you, too, boss,” she retorts with a roll of her eyes. “How about some music? Something for the Christmas spirit? I prepared a playlist just for this.”

“Oh, really? You have the classics, I assume,” you tell her.

“Definitely. Some are Miguel’s favorites. Or used to. I don’t know. It has some of my favorites for sure.”

“Like…?” you ask.

“You know…” Lyla shrugs. “Like ‘Last Christmas’ by Wham!”

“Oh, a classic,” you reply with a smile, approving.

“I knew you’d understand me. Let’s put it on,” she says and of course, the music immediately fills the air thanks to Miguel’s amazing sound system.

You nod in appreciation. “Nice choice, Lyla.”

“Thank you! It feels good to be appreciated for my music taste. Some people don’t like it.”

“That’s because you blast it at full volume with no warning,” Miguel replies grumpily, as he reaches the counter with two plates with food.

Lyla shrugs again. “It doesn’t sound too loud to me.”

“The burritos are ready, Y/N. Let me get the toppings,” Miguel says, deciding to ignore Lyla.

“Thank you,” you reply softly as he places the plate in front of you.

“Always,” he answers as he serves agua de Jamaica for the two of you.

“Ooh, should we see Miguel’s official holiday card? I look good in it,” Lyla says immediately displaying the holiday card every Spider Society member received before either you or Miguel can even respond.

Miguel groans quietly as he takes a seat. “Lyla, put that away.”

“I’m just showing Y/N. Look at my outfit. I look good in the card,” she replies with a grin.

You chuckle quietly as you stare at it, remembering Miguel’s mood since you were there. He didn’t want his picture to be taken but Jess, Peter B., and Lyla said he had to as he’s the leader and founder of the Spider Society. Despite Miguel’s protests, Peter B. and Mayday somehow managed to slip on a santa hat to his head, catching Miguel by surprise. He glared at Peter B., who was next to Jess in a flash, urging her to take the photo before Miguel took it off, and of course, Jess was quick to snap a photo. Now, everyone has a holiday card with Miguel glaring at the camera in his full suit with a santa hat while Lyla floats above his head, happy as can be.

“And there’s this one, too. Come to think of it, we should’ve used this one,” Lyla says, displaying a photo of Miguel, still wearing the santa hat but showing his face now, and you standing nearby showing him your progress on the society’s weekly reports. You notice the difference on Miguel. His glare from the official holiday card is replaced with a relaxed face and a small smile directed at you.

Miguel stares at it, noticing the difference, too, which makes his cheeks feel slightly hot, or maybe it’s just the heat from the food and the stove, he doesn’t know.

“Aww, I’ll let you two have dinner now, Merry Christmas Eve!” Lyla says with a smirk before she disappears, leaving Miguel and you alone with the Christmas music still playing in the background.

You grin softly and shake your head. “She really does get in a mood with the holidays,” you say as you add toppings to your plate.

“She does. She’s already too much sometimes and with the holidays…” Miguel scoffs in disbelief yet also in a playful way. “Even more but anyway - how was the party?” he asks softly as you pass him the toppings.

“It was great. There was more of Miles’s family this year, so we had to keep introducing ourselves to them. I think some of them thought it was weird Miles invited his school mentor,” you say with a grin. “That’s me.”

Miguel chuckles. “You’re the school mentor - I can see that.”

You raise an eyebrow, smiling and thinking. “Who would you be?”

Miguel turns to you, thinking. “I don’t know.”

“Hm… we’ll have to think about that,” you reply before you take a drink of agua de Jamaica.

Miguel grins, thinking that if he had gone to the party, he would’ve simply said that he was the school mentor’s close friend but saying that would mean stating out loud that you’re his friend. Despite the months, and the healing Miguel has done this year, his fear that something will happen to you still exists inside of him. He doesn’t want to jinx losing you - his close friend - by saying it out loud, directly. He’s alluded to it so many times in different ways to tell you how he feels. You’re his close friend. Yet, he hasn’t said those words specifically. Not yet anyway, but Miguel is certain one day, he will. Could it be next year? Or the following one? Miguel doesn’t know but he knows he will one day. For now, he says and acts on it however he can, whenever he can, in his own way.

“This is - as always - amazing,” you say with a soft sigh after having the first bite of a burrito. “I can never tire of this.”

Miguel smiles, amused yet happy with your reaction. He doesn’t know why, but it always pleases him to see how much you enjoy his cooking. He loves seeing that delighted look on your face when you eat what he cooks.

The two of you move through the other food, trying all the tamales, minus the sweet ones because you decided to save those for the dessert part. Miguel is once again, pleased when he sees you love the tamales with rajas and queso fresco. Pozole is last, and of course, you try the other kind he made.

“Which one is your favorite?” you ask him. “Red or green?”

Miguel thinks about it for a few seconds as he gently wipes his mouth with a napkin. “I think - green. What about yours?”

“I think green is my favorite, too.”

You grin at each other before you continue eating from your bowls. All the while, the two of you talk about the last few days and how everyone at HQ was excited for the holidays. Even members with few or no family, like yourself and Miguel, had plans with other members. The two of you talk about that, and how wonderful it is that the Spider Society has led to friendships so deep they feel like family. The two of you leave it at that, not wanting to dampen the mood with sadness of loved ones long gone though both of you think about your deceased loved ones anyway.

At last, Miguel brings a plate stacked with sweet, pink tamales. He sets it on the counter so the two of you can just grab from it instead of having to walk back and forth. He also brings along a plate with buñuelos, and of course, there’s the desserts you brought along, too.

“You want ponche, champurrado, or café de olla?” Miguel asks.

“I think - I’m going to leave the café de olla for last, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. So, ponche or champurrado… Or both?” he asks, a little amused. Noting your indecisiveness, Miguel adds, “I’m grabbing both.”

You grin. “Both for me, too, then. May I help you?”

“No,” Miguel says softly, shaking his head at you before he turns around to prep everything. “Thank you but no. You’re my guest.”

You sigh, knowing there’s no arguing. “Just let me know if I can help. I don’t mind, Miguel.”

“I know you don’t,” he replies softly with a smile as he grabs the mugs. “But please - let me do this.” He turns around, holding two mugs in each hand perfectly. He doesn’t need to say anything else for you know what he’s saying. He’s trying to move forward. He’s trying to show you his appreciation and caring for you. He’s trying to express what you mean to him in his own ways, even if it’s just him merely serving you food or a drink and taking it to you. He’s trying in his own way until he can say it out loud.

You nod and smile softly.

Satisfied with your reaction, Miguel turns around and proceeds to serve the drinks. You grin as upbeat holiday music continues to play. It seems that Lyla’s playlist is quite long and diverse since you recognize Mexican Christmas music. You listen intently to it, while Miguel fixes the drinks until he approaches the kitchen island with your two mugs. He places them carefully in front of you before he retrieves his, joining your side once again. You can’t help but think about how the two of you have sat in these same chairs ever since… exactly a year ago, almost as if you have unassigned assigned seats. You smile as you come to this realization, finding it endearing in a way but also realizing just how much has changed in a year.

One year ago, you were in Miles’s universe when Mr. and Mrs. Morales approached you, asking if you could take food to Miguel and stay with him while he ate so he wouldn’t be alone on Christmas Eve. You agreed because the Morales family has taken you in as part of their family, inviting you over to dinner and their gatherings but also because you had thought about the same thing. You didn’t like the idea of Miguel alone over the holidays even though your friendship was barely beginning. You had shared some moments with each other at that point like your celebration of Peter’s birthday and Miguel letting you see his ofrenda on Dia de Los Muertos. Miguel was barely beginning to open up and you knew it was too soon to ask him anything about the holidays but then, there were Miles’s parents, asking you for this favor. And you couldn’t say no.

You look over at Miguel as he brings one of the mugs to his mouth, blowing softly on it to cool off. You smile and grab one of your own, opting for the ponche first as you continue to remember last year. You were so nervous about it even though you agreed to it and wished that Miguel hadn’t spent the entire day alone. You guessed he was going to be at HQ like always, since you knew that he worked around the clock but to your surprise, he was here at home. You almost chuckle to yourself as you now remember standing in a dark and empty alleyway in Miles’s universe talking to Lyla, asking her about Miguel’s location to meet and give him the food. It was how you learned he was here. You remember Lyla giving you a hard time back then when you asked her if she could ask Miguel to meet you at HQ since he was home. You didn’t know where he lived back then and besides, you didn’t want to intrude on Miguel’s privacy nor make Miguel feel like you wanted to know where he lived but Lyla, who for some reason was busy at the time, told you she’d ask if you could simply come over, telling you that she’d give you the coordinates if Miguel agreed.

Then, you swear it took less than thirty seconds before the coordinates were on your gizmo, ready for you to travel directly to Miguel’s home, and that’s how you first entered his home a year ago, with plates of food in your hands, and party favors and cans of soda in your coat’s pockets, feeling cold from being outside to suddenly surrounded by warmth from Miguel’s penthouse. And of course, there was Miguel suddenly, standing in his universe’s fashion instead of the suit like he used to back then. It was the first time you ever saw him out of the suit. Now, the sight of him in normal attire is a familiar one. A lot has really changed since that night a year ago.

You turn to Miguel’s holographic Christmas tree, smiling. Last year he didn't have one when you arrived but he showed it to you afterward and told you all about them and how people in Nueva York design holographic ornaments as a tradition, though traditional trees are still a thing in some homes when they can be afforded. Miguel even showed you how to design ornaments before he had you design one.

“You want to look at it?” Miguel asks, noticing your gaze on it.

You turn to meet his gaze, still smiling and nod. “Sure.”

He nods with a soft grin and stands up, thinking to himself about how he actually put his tree up earlier this month. Last year he had no plans nor did he feel the festivities to put up his tree until Christmas Eve when you got here.

The two of you walk over to it, holding your mugs in hand before you stop in front of it.

You admire the tree, still in awe even a year later with the difference. In your universe, traditional Christmas trees are still the norm. Smiling, your eyes catch certain ornaments you didn’t see the previous year. You tell yourself you probably just missed them but you’re certain you would’ve remember seeing the ornaments with Conchata and Gabriel’s names along with the year they were designed on them. You silently conclude you wouldn’t have missed them, considering they would’ve caught your attention. Your eyes stop on one of Gabriel’s. You smile warmly at it, seeing the year it was made, 2084.

“Gabriel,” you say softly, tenderly, as if you knew him, though you never did nor will.

Miguel turns to look at you, smiling softly as he detects that tenderness in your voice while saying his younger brother’s name. It makes him feel warm and appreciation towards you even more, while also making him wish once again that you could’ve met Gabriel. He’s thought about it in the past a lot. He believes that Gabriel and you would’ve been good friends, too. He turns to look at the ornament, taking a drink from his mug. He wishes you could’ve met not only Gabriel but also Gabriella because he knows she would’ve loved you just like Gabriel.

Miguel consoles himself with the fact that you’ve at least met them in his dreams as he often sees them there. After what happened with Gabriella’s universe, Miguel’s dreams were plagued by nightmares, leading him to avoid sleep and only sleeping when his body was at the verge of exhaustion for months. He still has nightmares sometimes but his dreams are far more pleasant these days thanks to you. Ever since the spring after his near death experience, when he discovered that your scent and the sound of your breathing while you sleep help him, he has been sleeping better and with less nightmares.

Now, he dreams of Gabriella and Gabriel often. Conchata and his late wife sometimes make appearances, though not as often as the first two. Not as often as you now. You started showing up in his dreams two months after his near death experience and ever since then, you’ve become a regular. It’s how he consoles himself when he wishes you could’ve met two of the most important people in his life, Gabriella and Gabriel. You engage with them in his dreams and they both love you, which only fuels his belief that they would’ve loved you in life, too.

Miguel smiles softly as he thinks of them. There’s some heartache, and he knows there will always be. However, for the first time in years, Miguel doesn’t feel overwhelmed by his heartache like he used to. He doesn’t feel like that because he’s not alone. He looks over at you, noticing the awe in your eyes as you continue to take in the Christmas tree and how your eyes linger on something specific.

You’ve been admiring the ornaments, silently reading the different years of the ornaments and even finding some of Miguel’s from previous years when your eyes land on one specific ornament.

Yours.

You stare at it. You weren’t expecting to see it and if you were honest, you thought Miguel had probably erased your file or simply omitted it from the final copy last year but no, it’s on the tree. You wonder if he simply missed it and that’s why it’s on here as a simple mistake. You look around it, your eyes also finding the one Miguel made last year when he was showing you how the design program worked. It’s next to yours much like it was last year. You stare at the two ornaments until a screen, a tablet, meets your vision. You blink.

“Want to give it another go?” Miguel asks with a soft grin, offering you a tablet.

You smile and accept it, recognizing the ornament design program from last year. You look over at him, finding him smiling softly as he holds his mug and another tablet. You silently wonder where he retrieved the two tablets from since he hasn’t left your side. You glance at the dining table, questioning if they were there all along and whether Miguel planned for this.

“Sure, why not? I think I can do better this year,” you reply, still smiling.

“You did pretty great last year,” Miguel says reassuringly before he gestures to the dining table.

The two of you sit down, next to each other. The mugs are placed on the table before the designing of ornaments begins. The two of you design your ornaments, falling into a comforting and peaceful silence though soft Christmas music still plays in the background. It’s not until five or so minutes that the silence is disrupted.

“Aww, you’re designing ornaments! How cute,” Lyla says appearing between the two of you and taking a glance at each tablet. “No offense Miguel but Y/N is doing so much better than you.”

“Thanks, Lyla,” Miguel replies, not even looking up at her as he continues to design.

You smile and decide not to say anything.

“I’m just saying, it looks like Y/N has had more years of experience doing this than you. And this is your universe…” Lyla says.

“You’re so encouraging,” Miguel answers.

Lyla shrugs. “I try my best.”

You shake your head at Lyla and continue to work on your ornaments for a few more minutes until the two of you are done. You show each other your screens and smile as you see that you’ve both stuck to Miguel's Christmas tree theme colors and added the current year in Nueva York.

“You added more detail,” Miguel notes as he looks at yours, feeling happy that you even added the year underneath your name just like he did. “Are you ready to upload it?”

You nod and so, Miguel uploads both his and your ornament, saving it to the program. You both get up to add the ornaments through the tablet to see where the program places them since it’s supposedly done randomly, making it a bit of a fun game.

Miguel uploads his first, showing up somewhere around the top before you add yours. You both search for it and find it at last, placed just below his new one.

“That was fun. Thank you, Miguel,” you gently say, breaking the silence.

“It's no traditional tree but…” he says, looking at the ornaments.

“It's wonderful,” you finish with a smile, looking at the tree yourself.

Your response tears Miguel's gaze from the ornaments to you, his red eyes taking you in. He silently gives thanks for you, something he has found himself doing more as the months have gone by. He's quick to remember now the gifts he got you but a part of him is still going back and forth on it. What if you don't like them? Or worse, what if you find it odd that he’s giving you gifts? He turns his gaze away from you to look behind the Christmas tree. He placed the gift bag there earlier behind the tree, where he knows it’s not visible, just in case he brings himself to do it at some point during the night. He sighs softly, reassuring himself he still has time, and besides, he also has tomorrow to give it to you since he plans on inviting you for the recalentado.

The two of you stand there for a little while longer, admiring the Christmas tree, silently thinking about how much has changed in a year, and deciding that you wouldn’t change anything about it.

After a little while later, Miguel checks the time.

“The Christmas show will start soon,” he quietly says.

You turn, remembering. You thought about it earlier this month but it seemed to have escaped your mind today as it’s been a busy day. You visited your parents, Aunt May, and Peter’s graves earlier this morning to change their flowers since it’s Sunday. Then, there was your morning patrol because even on the holidays, you like to check up on your city, just in case. And of course, there was the party at Miles’s universe where you and your friends did a gift exchange just like the previous year.

“How long till it starts?” you ask.

“About fifteen minutes,” Miguel replies with a smile. “Plenty of time to drink the champurrado.”

You grin and nod, turning to walk back to the kitchen island. You take one last glance at the tree, your eyes finding your ornaments. You briefly think about how there’s now two ornaments with your name on them on Miguel’s tree. The sight spreads a warmth through your chest for you never imagined this. You turn away and follow Miguel to the kitchen island for the other drink.

He offers the buñuelos and more sweet tamales, which you happily accept. You eat and talk in the privacy of Miguel’s home with a holographic countdown in display, counting down the minutes until the holographic Christmas show starts.

“It’s supposed to snow again,” Miguel says as he turns his body sideways on the chair, facing you completely now.

“We’re supposed to get snow, too. All the kids and some adults were excited about it this morning when I was on morning patrol,” you say with a chuckle that makes Miguel grin.

You turn slightly, facing Miguel more with your body but still making sure to give Miguel space. Over the last few months you’ve brushed hands, arms, and legs here and there. It has been accidental, as you’re always trying to make sure to respect Miguel’s boundaries regarding physical contact. Ever since losing Gabriella in his arms, Miguel finds physical touch hard but you’ve noticed the way he has slowly opened up to it. It’s not much compared to how open you are to it with your friends like a hug or a pat on the shoulder. Miguel is not there yet but you’ve noticed the brushing of his fingers against yours when you hand him items has become more intentional than accidental on his end over the last few months, which makes you happy that he’s starting to feel more comfortable with it.

Then, there’s been the slight squeeze of his pinky around yours. It’s happened three times so far, and it’s been on times when the two of you have shared something personal. The first time Miguel did it was after he shared with you his childhood and Spider-Man origins. The second time was on Peter’s birthday this year when you invited Miguel again for your small celebration in his honor. There were a few tears on your end, for you couldn’t help but feel sentimental. You guess Miguel did it to comfort you in a small way, not realizing that his presence alone was more than comforting to you. The third and last time was over a month ago on Dia de Los Muertos, when he invited you to see his ofrenda for the second time.

Except this year, he invited you earlier in the evening while he cooked all his loved ones’ food and prepared the decorations, even inviting you to help him cut the colorful tissue paper into the beautiful and intricate designs to adorn his offering. He even made extra this year of everything so the two of you could eat and by midnight when the ofrenda was completed and lit up by flickering candles that cast shadows over the marigolds, you could tell Miguel was sentimental as his eyes scanned the four photos. His mother, his wife, Gabriel, and Gabriella.

You thought he was sad, naturally, but he was sentimental because he was recalling a dream - or was it a vision - Miguel still goes back and forth on this. It was the dream he had while he passed away for a few minutes back in the spring. He saw his wife, Gabriel, Gabriella, and even his counterpart, who gave him closure on his guilt for stepping up as Gabriella’s father after his passing. He thought about the dream that night on Dia de Los Muertos, as the two of you knelt in front of his ofrenda for the second time, and remembered Gabriella’s sweet words, thanking Miguel for all her favorite food and the toys he offered the previous year. He also remembered his loved ones’ assurances that they were always with him. He grew sentimental that night, wondering if they were there at that moment, with him and you.

You wanted to comfort him like so many times before but you knew and continue to know that Miguel is still not fully ready for such physical touch. He noticed it, like so many other times, and decided to let you in his own, small way; by squeezing your pinky with his own when he handed you a mug with café de olla. That was the third, and you’re certain it will be, the last time of this year.

It’s small but you’re very happy for Miguel. You’re immensely thankful that he has allowed you into his life and that he trusts you. You smile at him as you continue to face him.

“I can imagine the excitement. You can’t beat una blanca navidad,” he says turning to the windows, wondering if he’ll still be awake by the time it’s supposed to start snowing.

“That’s true,” you reply as you turn to the windows yourself.

“Three minutes,” Miguel says looking at the countdown. “Should we save the café de olla for after the show?”

“If you want to,” you reply softly, looking at your current mug. “I still have a little champurrado left.”

Miguel nods. “Me, too. Café de olla for after then.”

You grin at him before you stand up, fixing your top and feeling excitement. Last year you got to watch the Christmas show and it was amazing as it was all holographic and playing in front of Miguel’s building. You recall the Santa Claus even waved at you as he rode past in his sleigh.

Miguel and you head to the windows, mugs in hand. You lean sideways on the window just like he does, facing each other as you await. At last, the Christmas holographic show begins with a large and bright yellow star.

“It’s starting,” you whisper softly, eyes wide in fascination.

Miguel’s eyes flicker to you subtly, gently smiling at your reaction before he returns his gaze to the show.

The star begins to spin, rapidly, sending sparks flying through the air. The star spins so fast, it begins to look more like a yellow portal. Suddenly, holographic reindeer gallop out into the night sky before Santa’s sleigh and Santa himself fly out of the portal, pulled by the reindeer. He waves his arm around before pulling holographic gifts from his sack of gifts to show them off, even pointing at the windows and gesturing to the gifts as if saying “this is for you.”

You grin softly, loving every second of this but then it gets better because snowmen step, or rather glide out of the still spinning star/portal, waving hello before they start a dance performance that sends holographic snowflakes flying through the sky. You chuckle softly as the snowmen continue to dance while Santa and his reindeer fly above them. Miguel chuckles quietly as well, enjoying the show and briefly recalling previous years when he would stand next to little Gabriel to watch the show together when they were just kids. Gabriel’s favorite part was always when Santa made his appearance.

“¡Miguel, mira, mira! It’s Santa!” Gabriel would exclaim excitedly each year, waving his small hand through the glass window, hoping to catch the holographic Santa’s attention.

Miguel would nod, smiling and feeling the excitement himself but he showed it in a more reserved way, which always led Gabriel to grab Miguel’s top from the hem.

“Miguel, wave to Santa! He’ll notice the two of us! Miguel!” Gabriel used to say, pouting.

“Okay, okay,” Miguel would reply before waving, unable to refuse his brother’s demands.

Miguel sighs softly at the memories of his little brother now. He always thought he’d be the first to pass away, being the oldest, but life had other plans for Gabriel. Still, Miguel silently hopes that Gabriel gets to watch the show from wherever he is.

His thoughts fade away as a new thing happens, catching both his and your attention. A neon red string comes out of the yellow spinning star and attaches to Santa’s sleigh. Your eyebrow raises as the color is familiar and sure enough, it is. Spider-Man 2099, as a hologram, swings out of the portal and pulls himself onto Santa’s sleigh at the back. You gasp softly in both surprise and delight, turning to look at Miguel briefly to see his reaction. He looks just as surprised. Your eyes return to him, or his hologram version, as he begins to wave towards the windows, wearing a santa hat.

The two of you, and the rest of Nueva York, watch the interaction between Santa and Spider-Man 2099 as the man in all red offers the other one a plate with cookies. The superhero accepts one and nods back at Santa in gratitude before they begin to fly around, closer to the windows now. You’re smiling the entire time, finding it endearing that the city included Miguel this year in the holographic Christmas show.

“I wasn’t expecting that,” Miguel says next to you with a grin.

You look up at him, smiling. “It was a nice surprise. I bet all your supporters are delighted.”

Miguel hums in response and looks at you with his little grin. “I hope so.”

“I’m sure they are! I’m not even from this dimension and I’m delighted by it,” you reply turning back to look at the windows just in time as Santa’s sleigh flies by Miguel’s windows.

You cover your mouth in delight as Santa waves at the two of you with Spider-Man 2099 just behind him on the sleigh. You can’t help yourself so you wave back at Santa and then at Spider-Man 2099 when Santa moves his sleigh further ahead so the superhero can face both Miguel and you. He gives Miguel a nod, which you find amusing considering the irony before the hologram turns to you. He leans closer and offers a high-five, which you reciprocate with a soft laugh as you’ve never seen Miguel do such a thing. Just as you put your hand down, the hologram gives you a wink.

“Oh,” you say simply, amused but surprised before both Santa and Spider-Man 2099 wave goodbye and fly lower to other floors. You steal a glance at Miguel and notice his eyes on the still dancing snowmen. There’s a soft blush covering his cheeks as he leans his entire body on the window sideways with his free hand in his pocket since the two of you have placed your mugs on the window’s ledge. Is he avoiding your gaze? You turn back to the show with a small smile.

Miguel stares at the snowmen, they’re still dancing and sending holographic snowflakes into the air. His face feels hot and he’s sure it shows. He wasn’t expecting to be part of the show this year, even though he’s been added to it before but what was more surprising was the hologram’s behavior. He smiles and shakes his head to himself as he looks at you. Your attention is back to the show. He hasn’t even offered a high-five to you - or anyone - since Gabriella, so he finds it amusing that the hologram beat him to it. The winking on the other hand… Makes his cheeks flush and wonder what were the odds that the hologram winked at you specifically. He sighs silently and returns his attention back to the show, thinking that his small embarrassment was worth it, considering you found the interaction amusing and it made you happy. He decides he can handle some light embarrassment if that’s the outcome, your happiness.

The show concludes with Santa and Spider-Man 2099 making one last round across the sky, snowmen dancing with snowflakes falling. They wave goodbye as they fly around before they head straight for the yellow portal, disappearing into it with a bright glow. The snowmen follow, waving goodbye, still dancing in a line as they enter the spinning star. At last there’s nothing left except for the spinning star which begins to slow down until it stops completely. It blinks in and out. Once, twice, thrice… before it explodes into tiny yellow flickers of light that begin to form words, spelling out “¡Feliz Navidad, Nueva York!”

You smile fondly as the show concludes. “That was awesome,” you say softly.

Miguel scoffs playfully. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

You nod and retrieve your mug, finishing up your drink.

“And this was really good, too. I can’t decide which one I like more. Champurrado or ponche,” you say, raising an eyebrow as you ponder this.

Miguel chuckles softly. “It’s a hard choice… Now add café de olla to the mix.”

“I’m choosing café de olla.”

Miguel blinks at how fast you responded, then chuckles again. “I’m taking that as a cue from you.”

You laugh. “I didn’t mean it like that but if you’re still offering, I’m not declining,” you say with a little shrug, which amuses Miguel.

He gestures back to the kitchen. “It’s amazing with sweet tamales.”

And that’s all it takes for the two of you to find yourselves back in the kitchen island with different mugs now holding café de olla. Since he recalled all those previous years, Miguel finds himself sharing those days, telling you all about Gabriel and how excited he was each year. You smile as he shares those fond memories, making you wish you could’ve met the younger O’Hara brother with the cheeky smile.

It’s past midnight when you look around the kitchen, noticing the pans and pots. The two of you have been sitting here just talking and drinking coffee but you realize you should probably head home soon.

“May I help you clean up?” you ask Miguel.

And of course, he immediately shakes his head. “Thank you but don’t worry about it. I got it.”

You frown softly. “I don’t mind. That way it’s done quicker and you can rest sooner. You must be tired after cooking all on your own.”

“It’s alright, don’t worry about it, Y/N,” he replies gently but you shake your head.

“Please. It’s the least I can do. We’ll tackle it quicker together. C’mon,” you say, standing up.

“Y/N,” Miguel replies, almost grumpily because the last thing he wants is for you to be doing any cleaning when you’re his guest but you’re already around the kitchen island, facing him.

“Does it matter what containers I use?” you ask him.

Miguel stares at you, wishing he could glare at you for insisting on doing this but he finds himself unable to. All he does is pout and shake his head before he stands up, giving up and accepting your help. Midway through the cleaning he decides it’s a good thing anyway, since it means that you’re spending more time with him here at his penthouse. It also gives him more time to build the courage and give you your Christmas gift. After some time, the kitchen is spotless and the food has been stored away. You neatly fold a towel over the counter before walking back to the chairs. It’s about 12:30 am, Christmas Day. You know it’s time to head home now as you want Miguel to rest, and you could use some sleep yourself. You reach for your coat, swinging it over your arm, thinking about something.

“I should head home now. It’s pretty late and you must be tired,” you say, looking at Miguel just as he walks around the kitchen island to meet you.

He leans on the counter with one hand. “I’m not too tired, don’t worry,” he says with a small grin. Miguel’s definitely a bit tired but he’ll gladly stay up later if it means you’ll stay a bit longer.

“You should still get some rest,” you reply with a small. “Thank you so much for dinner. As always, I loved everything.”

Miguel nods slowly. “Always. I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

You hum in response, smiling. You nod, ready to wish him a Merry Christmas before heading out but he straightens up.

“Before you go…” Miguel starts, trailing off. He looks at the tree, gaining that courage at last. “Here.”

He walks to the tree and retrieves a holiday gift bag from behind it. Your eyebrows raise in surprise and for some strange reason, your heart speeds up. Did Miguel get you a gift?

Miguel walks back to you, standing just a few feet away before he hands it to you. He feels his own heart race as he watches you carefully accept the bag, with your eyes filled with surprise.

“Oh… Miguel. You didn’t have to, really,” you say so softly as you stare at the bag. “But… thank you. Thank you, Miguel,” you say with a warm smile before you remember what you were thinking about just a minute ago. “Wait, can you give me like five minutes? I need to go home. I’ll be right back, I promise,” you say as you gently place his gift bag on the counter. “I’ll be right back, is that okay with you?”

Miguel nods, wondering why you need to go home, though a part of him suspects the reason. “Yes, that’s okay. I’ll wait here.”

You nod eagerly, smiling as you begin to walk backwards, heading to the living room. “I’ll be right back!”

You head to the living room, quickly opening a portal as you do so. You return to your dimension and in less than five minutes you’re back in Nueva York. You walk back into the kitchen and dining area of Miguel’s penthouse with a large box wrapped in Christmas wrapping paper and an equally tall gift bag. You find Miguel exactly where he stayed when you left and upon seeing the box and bag, his eyebrows raise gently, surprised. You approach him slowly.

“I was debating… giving it to you,” you start gently. “I didn’t know if you’d find the gesture - as too much - and I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. I hope it doesn’t,” you finish softly as you offer him the box. “I hope you like it, Miguel,” you add sheepishly because you thought about it for days. What could you gift to someone who had the money to buy it himself if he didn’t have it already? What was something that you could give him that would be meaningful? You had to sit down and brainstorm.

Miguel takes the box from you because he doesn’t want you to keep holding such a large box on top of a gift bag on your own, even if you’re Spider-Woman and you can certainly carry more than that.

“You didn’t have to,” Miguel says softly as he feels the weight. “Thank you, Y/N,” he says looking up at you, taken aback. He wasn’t thinking about receiving gifts nor did he buy anything for himself as he’s not really about receiving gifts, at least not since he was a kid.

You nod and smile. “Always. And here’s the gift bag, too.”

Miguel places the box on the kitchen island and accepts the bag. “Are you sure?” he asks, raising his eyebrows again. “Whatever is in the box, I think that’s - I hope you didn’t waste too much money,” he says, nervously.

“Don’t worry about that, please. You don’t have to open it now if you don’t want to, by the way,” you reply, thinking now that he may find it more comfortable to open it without you around.

“No, that would be rude. I’ll open it now. If you open yours,” Miguel says, meeting your gaze.

You chuckle and nod. “I’ll open it here with you then.”

“You first,” he replies, holding the gift bag you’ve given him.

You don’t argue and nod, trying to make this a pleasant moment for Miguel. You pick up the gift bag he gave you and open it, before gently pulling out decorative tissue paper. You look inside and realize there’s multiple gifts, all individually wrapped in Christmas wrapping paper. You look up at Miguel and grin softly, shaking your head at him because you’ve done something similar.

“You didn’t have to get me so many things.”

Miguel shrugs, smiling softly. “I could tell you the same thing.”

You laugh and pull out the first item. It’s a box that you carefully unwrap, revealing a white box. You open it, finding the item surrounded in tissue paper. At last, you pull it to the side and find a sweatshirt. You pull it out of the box with a smile, spreading it open to see the design on the front. It has Nueva York’s skyline printed on it and the sweatshirt is in one of your favorite colors.

“I thought since you really like sweatshirts…” Miguel says, hoping you like it.

“I love sweatshirts and I love this one! It’s so cute, thank you!” you happily tell him as you pull it towards your chest. “Seriously, I love this so much! Thank you, Miguel,” you add much softly.

Miguel grins, relieved because he can see your genuine reaction. It only makes him more excited to see you open the rest.

“Go ahead and open the others,” he says gently.

You nod happily and continue, pulling out another box but this one is heavier. After carefully unwrapping it, you’re holding a brand new tablet from this dimension.

Miguel walks closer to you, hoping you like it. “I found a way to make sure it’ll work in your dimension, much like the gizmos and other devices we use for the society. You’ll have access to any dimension’s internet, if it has internet, of course. I… I always see how much you seem to enjoy working with the tablets here and I thought you’d like your own for your personal use,” Miguel starts, sounding excited as he tells you more about it and all the features you’ll have access to.

You smile and eagerly nod, happy to see Miguel so excited as he tells you about it. You can only look at him in awe as he thought about everything and any potential issues you may have, even thinking about a protective screen and case.

“I can tell you more about it later, there’s a few more things in the bag,” Miguel says, stepping back to give you space.

You thank him once again for the tablet, suspecting that it was rather expensive. You go through the rest of the bag, finding books for you to read since you’ve told Miguel over the last months about books you’ve read, and he has noticed it himself by spotting books on your coffee table. You notice he bought books that fit your vibe perfectly, which you find endearing. Along with that, Miguel bought you multiple packages of book tabs because he also noticed some of your books back home had some, marking passages that you really liked. You smile warmly as you put those items back, thanking Miguel for being so thoughtful, into yet another gift. He packaged the books and book tabs into a reusable tote bag with some of Nueva York's most important buildings printed on it, which you absolutely love.

At last, you reach the final present. You pull it out, the item feeling familiar. You look at it with curiosity and proceed to open it with Miguel's encouragement. You smile slowly.

“Miguel…” you say softly as you reveal four records. You read the titles, recognizing the artists. You smile at him as you realize.

Lyla plays music sometimes for the two of you on Saturdays when Miguel hosts dinner and during those times, you've discovered some new music from this universe. The only problem is that they don't exist in your dimension.

“Thank you… This means so much to me. You know how much I love their music. Now I can add it to my collection. Thank you!” you tell him warmly, wishing you could give him a hug right now. “Thank you for everything, Miguel.”

Miguel grins softly and nods. “Always. I'm glad you like your gifts,” he replies, truly feeling happy. He's also glad you don't seem to mind that he got you a few things, nor find it odd that he’s bought you gifts.

“Your turn,” you tell him softly.

Miguel scoffs playfully but nods. “Alright. Which one should I open first?”

“The box,” you answer quickly, excited.

Miguel nods and moves towards the box, silently wondering what's inside as he remembers the weight. He smiles softly at you before he starts unwrapping it, slowly revealing an image on the box. He pauses as he realizes what it is.

“Y/N…” he says, looking up at you with surprise and happiness in his eyes.

“I've noticed you don't have one but that you enjoy the records back at my universe so… I thought I'd get you one. I know the sound quality from the ones here in your universe is probably better but-” you stop as Miguel shakes his head at you, his hand flat on the record player, or its packaging box at least.

“No, this one is perfect,” Miguel says in such a way that there's no room for debate. “Thank you, this is so thoughtful, Y/N. I know exactly where I'm going to set it up,” he adds softly, grinning, already thinking about the perfect place.

You smile at him, noticing a glimmer in his eyes.

“Always. I'm so happy you like it… You still have the bag though!” you remind him, chuckling.

“Right. I got too excited with the record player.”

He grabs the bag and opens it, pulling out decorative tissue paper just as gently as you did with yours, finding individual gifts wrapped as well. He chuckles to himself, finding it amusing that you both did the same thing.

He pulls out a small box and unwraps it, revealing a pair of black mittens. His eyebrows furrow, noticing they'll definitely fit. He hasn't found mittens nor gloves that fit his hands before, at least not in stores. It didn’t matter much in the last few years, considering he was always wearing his suit but now that he's been wearing his clothes and going out to retrieve groceries, he could really use them with winter and all.

He picks one up and tries it, fitting him perfectly. Miguel smiles turning his hand and that's when he sees the small personalization with his last name on the bottom of the glove in silver thread. He chuckles softly, realizing you had these custom-made for sure.

“Are they okay?” you ask.

“Yes, they're more than okay.” Miguel looks up and shows you. “They fit. I've never been able to find any for my hands since I became Spider-Man. Thank you so much, and the personalization… I've never been gifted something so personalized. Thank you, Y/N, truly” Miguel says with a smile, knowing that he'll be using them a lot for the winter.

He pulls out another box and smiles softly when he finds books. Many months ago at your apartment, Miguel mentioned that he liked to read though it's something he rarely does these days. He recalls telling you that time that he enjoyed reading history and sci-fi books, exactly the kind you got him. The fact that you remembered this tiny detail from so long ago, makes Miguel smile in appreciation. He thanks you for remembering and promises to try and read them soon, silently telling himself that for the new year, he’s going to try and get back into reading.

At last, he reaches the final package. It feels heavy and when Miguel looks at you with wonder and curiosity, he sees a glimmer in your eyes, excitement.

With your encouragement, he unwraps and opens the package. He stares into the box, feeling a warmth spread through him. He looks at you and gives you a gentle smile before he pulls out the first record.

“You…” Miguel starts quietly, with tenderness. He can't help but feel ternura for you **in this moment.

You walk closer to him, smiling. “You've mentioned liking some of the records. Some are my personal ones, others were Peter's… and I remembered you didn't have a record player, so I thought I could get you one, and also some records to help you start a collection,” you explain softly.

Miguel nods as he pulls out another record, and yes, the two he's pulled out so far are records he truly enjoys from your universe. He smiles softly at you, filled with ternura. Your gifts are so thoughtful and sweet, and the fact that you've paid attention to what records he enjoys when he’s mentioned it in passing, makes him feel heard, appreciated, and… loved.

“Thank you - so much, Y/N. For everything,” Miguel says softly, almost a whisper. “I can't wait to set the record player up and continue adding to the collection you've started for me. Thank you.”

“Always. I'm glad you like it, Miguel,” you answer softly. “And if you ever just want to borrow one of the records, let me know. I'll happily let you.”

Miguel nods, smiling gently, in appreciation. You can only return the smile before both of you notice the white, soft spots through the windows.

“Una blanca Navidad,” Miguel says quietly.

“A white Christmas,” you repeat. “Merry Christmas, Miguel,” you tell him.

Miguel smiles. “Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

You both watch the snow for a few minutes, mentioning how excited the kids will be when they wake up before Miguel continues to appreciate every record you gifted him.

After some more talking about the records and Miguel thanking you a few times more, you stand in his living room with your tote bag and bag with gifts. A portal is behind you, waiting for you to step in to return home.

“Thank you for dinner once again. Everything was so amazing! And thank you for the thoughtful gifts, Miguel,” you tell him warmly with a smile.

“Always… I'm happy you liked dinner and the gifts.” Miguel smiles back at you and then he remembers. “Come back for the recalentado, please. Just like last year,” he says, stepping closer. Ever since opening his gifts, he's had the need to hug you but it's still too soon, still too much for him to handle.

“Of course, thank you. What time is best for you?” you ask with a grin.

Miguel pauses for a moment, thinking. And then, he invites you for breakfast.

“The recalentado is for dinner. You can go home after breakfast, don't feel pressured to be here all day. I know you probably have plans to see everyone else at some point today and then you can come back for dinner, or… If you want to spend the day here - I wouldn't mind at all but you probably have plans and-” Miguel says, scratching his neck softly, not knowing how to simply say that he’d be open to you spending the day here with him without it sounding off.

“I wouldn't mind either.”

Miguel lowers his hand. “Oh…” He smiles slowly and nods. “Then…”

“I’ll see you in the morning - or well, I guess in a few hours?”

“In a few hours then,” he replies softly. “I’ll wait for you for breakfast.”

You thank him again and with one last goodbye from both of you, you enter the portal and return home. Miguel stands in his living room, the light of the portal fading slowly. He looks past it and out the windows, the snow is really picking up now. He smiles softly, planning on doing one more thing before heading to bed for the night.

The next morning you shower and get ready to go to Miguel's universe. You grab your gizmo from the coffee table, accidentally knocking off a notice you and the entire building received earlier this month from your landlord, something about not overloading extension cords and electrical sockets because of the holidays to avoid a short circuit.

You pick it up and place it back on the table before you open a portal. You find yourself in Miguel's living room once again, only a few hours later.

The fireplace is on already, making the entire penthouse feel cozy and warm. The sound of music fills your ears, except the quality is different and you recognize the song. Your eyes search for it and you find it quickly. You smile in delight as you see that Miguel has given his new record player and records a home in his living room, and that he's already using it.

“Good morning, Merry Christmas,” Miguel says making you turn in surprise, which makes him chuckle softly.

You chuckle as you take him in. His hair is damp from a shower and he's wearing a beige sweater that looks incredibly cozy on him. He steps closer, gesturing to the record player. His scent surrounds you and you find yourself recognizing every aspect of it - from his shampoo to his body wash and his shaving products to his deodorant and cologne, to his scent alone. You blink, surprised at yourself by how well you recognize the different notes of his scent, even months later since you helped him shower when he was injured and nearly lost his life back in the spring.

You push those thoughts away and smile at Miguel as he tells you about how he set up the record player after you left and that he's been playing music from it since he woke up. You don’t fail to notice the happy tone in his voice as he tells you about it before he leads you to the kitchen and dining area of his penthouse where a lovely breakfast, cooked by Miguel, awaits the two of you.

Over music and conversation, you have breakfast together. You don’t leave afterward and instead stick around, especially when Miguel mentioned there was a holiday special for the movie series the two of you got into when he was recovering from his injuries in the spring. And so, you spent the entirety of the day in each other's presence on this Blanca Navidad.

🎄❄️🎄❄️🎄❄️🎄❄️🎄❄️🎄

Next Part - New Year's One-Shot

Translations: café de olla - Mexican coffee made in a pot pan dulce - Mexican sweet bread tinga - Latin dish made out of meat (pork, chicken) in sauce with onions, chiles chipotle, and tomatoes. Can be eaten on tostadas or as burritos (my experience) and topped with different toppings like sour cream, salsa, lettuce. burritos - I think everyone knows this tostadas - toasted tortillas; usually used as a base for different culinary dishes pozole - A kind of soup/stew made from hominy and meat (can be chicken or beef) and can be green or red, based on what chiles are used rajas de chile poblano - slices of chile poblano queso fresco - fresh cheese ponche - a Mexican Christmas punch made out of fresh fruit, spices (like hibiscus flowers), and sugar cane champurrado - chocolate-based atole, which is made of masa harina (in my experience). buñuelos - Christmas dessert; fried dough fritter (so good with atole) "Ya lo sabia" - "I knew it" agua de Jamaica - hibiscus tea Dia de Los Muertos - Day of the Dead ofrenda - altar for Day of the Dead recalentado - word translates to "reheated" but this is when you invite your closest friends and family to eat the reheated leftovers from the previous day of some event. It's supposed to be a smaller tight-knit group situation and less formal since it's with close friends/family. "una blanca Navidad" - "a white Christmas" "mira" - "look" Feliz Navidad - Merry Christmas ternura - endearment, tenderness; I still can't find a word in English that makes me feel like the word "ternura" does

_____________

Long A/N: Merry Christmas! I was hoping to have this out sooner, but the holidays got to me. I was also not planning on writing anything like this for Nonviolent Communication, but then I was like

Didn't I write a Christmas part (for Nonviolent Communication) back in like September because Christmas and Miguel just sound so cozy and warm? And now when it's the holidays I'm gonna miss the chance to write something for the story? In this economy? No. So, I got the idea and started writing, and here it is now! Thank you to everyone who responded to this post regarding what you'd give Miguel for Christmas. I had a horrible migraine while working on this yesterday and my brain was not cooperating. Thank you to @winniethewife for mentioning mittens! And thank you to @lulu-baked-beans for the lovely idea of gifting Miguel a record player and some records to start his own collection! I already had Miguel set to gift reader some records from his universe, so this was such a perfect little coincidence!

I hope you guys enjoy this, and thank you for reading if you got this far! Happy Holidays! ❤️🎄

Also, here's a little BTS of me working on this with someone special who arrived Friday (just in time to help with the tamales and everything else 🤣). He said he'd go with café de olla, too!

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mochamvgz · 11 months ago

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the first snow (with you)

; enhypen x reader

; genre: headcanon, pure fluff, established relationship

; warnings: none

; 1k words

; tags: @inkelea @bunreis @sobun1est @aylin-hijabi @kbookshelf

heeseung

we all know he's a huge sleepyhead so ofc you woke up first. you staggered out of bed, rubbing your eyes and looking out the window. you caught sight of the blanket of snow enveloping the earth and suddenly you were wide awake.

“hee!! it snowed last night!”

“huh? 5 more minutes..” he groggily muttered in his sleep.

after a decade of trying to shake him awake, you finally got his attention when you said you'd make him hot chocolate if he woke up, which made him sit upright, tangled up in the blanket. can't blame the guy though, i mean, who can resist a steaming mug of hot cocoa?

jay

when I tell you this guy plans out the entire day while you're in the shower and doesn't waste a minute. he takes out the time you'll need to get ready of course, even goes as far as to pick out your outfit and helps you dry your hair and prepares breakfast while you do your makeup! (is he available on amazon??) he remembered you mentioning wanting to go out sledding with him when it snows once so that was first on the agenda, obviously.

later, you asked him if he would like to do the snowman dance challenge with you and he said yes before you've even finished your sentence. this was your first snow with jay and needless to say, it went beyond anything you'd imagined and left you feeling utterly awed.

jake

the two of you were out for a walk after dinner. you sat down on a bench for a minute to take a break and suddenly he exclaimed, “darling let's go to the namsan tower!” naturally you were a little puzzled due to his outburst but he seemed persistent.

“please we have to go! i just checked the weather forecast and it says it might snow tonight!” that got you up on your feet in an instant.

namsan tower is the highest point in Seoul and an ideal spot to visit for the first snow of the winter, there is also cage-like thing for love locks (please look it up idk how to describe it T.T)

you make it just in time as the first fluttery white particles descend from the sky. “quick! make a wish!” you giggle at jake’s enthusiasm and join your hands to make your wish as he does the same. there's no way you're going back home without attaching a love lock for you and jake.

sunghoon

he's absolutely overjoyed about it. this means he can take you ice skating!!!

“but hoon, i don't know the first thing about skating! what if i fall flat on my face?” you whine, but he shuts down your protests and reassures you that he's got you and you have nothing to worry about. it didn't take long for you to cave and the next thing you know, you're renting skates.

you soon find out that you are, by no means, a natural at the activity. your balance isn't the best and you come dangerously close to face planting a few times but your ice prince manages to catch you each time.

of course sunghoon can't resist showing off a little once you decide you've had enough and opt to watch him from the sidelines.

sunoo

snowman! snowman! snowman!

sunoo has been talking of wanting to build a snowman together ever since the day after thanksgiving and cannot wait for it to snow. looks like today's his lucky day. he wastes no time getting both of you dressed in warm clothes and getting supplies for the snowman (buttons, scarf, hat, etc) and drags you out of the house.

this was your first time making a snowman so your first few tries weren't anywhere near successful but you had the framework for a formidable-looking gentleman on your 5th try. sunoo happily claps as he surveys the frame and gets to work scouring for twigs for its arms as you give it facial features along with a scarf and hat so your new friend doesn't get too cold. sunoo inserts its arms in and you couldn't be more pleased with the result.

jungwon

he insisted on staying indoors where it's warm but you convinced him to go out for the winter carnival, eventually. how could he say no to you? as you're walking around the food stalls munching on a corn dog, jungwon squealed out of the blue, startling you. when you asked him what's wrong he said he felt something cold and wet land on his nose. without a word you took his hand and broke into a sprint, pulling him along to the ferris wheel.

“what…are you..doing?” jungwon lets out while panting, trying not to trip. you asked him to wait and make a beeline straight for the ticket counter, leaving him to catch his breath.

next thing jungwon knows, he's on the top of the ferris wheel with you as a flurry of snowflakes rain down. you pull him into a kiss and his boba eyes widen at the abruptness of it, he eventually melts into it. this is definitely going to be one of his most memorable moments with you.

niki

splat!

a gasp left you as a snowball landed on the side of your face, catching you off-guard. you look up to see the culprit snickering. “so that's how you wanna play nishimura? it's on”

you reached down to scoop a handful of snow, shaping it into something like a sphere and launched it at your boyfriend. the battle only ends once you hold up your arms in surrender. riki first bumps upwards into the air as a gesture of victory and runs over to pull you into a hug. the air is filled with your laughs.

“did i go too hard on you?” he quietly asks and only once you reassure him that you're okay does he let go.

“can we make snow angels now?” his face lights up at that.

“thought you'd never ask, m’lady” goddamn it not that smirk! you end up writing your names together in the snow in between the imprints of your snow angels later.

; note: ty @euncsace for the niki snowball fight idea! i hope you like it! exams are creeping up so y'all might not hear from me as often, might even go on hiatus but i'll try to clear out the reqs in my inbox before that!

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rebelliousstories · 7 days ago

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Due Back

Relationship: Bernard the Elf x Reader

Fandom: The Santa Clause

Request: No

Warnings: Fluff, Slight Angst

Word Count: 1,535

Main Masterlist: Here

The Santa Clause Masterlist: Here

Summary: For the past couple of years, Bernard gets ahead of his paperwork for the week of Thanksgiving, and takes a little vacation. No one knows where he goes, and he won’t tell anyone. No matter how convincing.

Consider Donating: Here

Today was the day! Bernard had a little extra pep in his step as he made his final round around the workshop floor. Everything was running just as smoothly as it should have been. His lists had been made, checked once then twice, and passed out so that everyone knew exactly what to do while he was away.

Normally, no one could pull Bernard away from the workshop during any time of year. And yet for some reason, for the last few years, something or someone had been doing just that. How else to explain Bernard’s actions during the final week of November? All of the elves had gotten used to it over the last several years, but it was still odd for them. They had quickly learned though that he was never going to tell them what he does in the week he is gone.

His boss, on the other hand, was not so easily pacified.

As soon as November 1st comes along, he notices a stark change in his head elf. Bernard was even more focused on getting everything on track. The never ending pile of paperwork that he had suddenly vanished into completed folders. Any and all specialty items were taken care of before he disappeared. But what was the strangest behavior the Santa noticed, was the smile that seemed to be permanently etched onto his head elf’s face.

Bernard was especially happy during this time of year, whereas it used to be his most stressful time. Not to be mistaken, it still was, but there was something in Bernard’s life now that took some of that stress off. He had one last folder to deliver to Santa, who took this as the perfect opportunity to grill him.

“Santa, I have the progress reports for the last week right here for you.” A decorative red and gold binder containing the entire week’s updates were placed upon the big man’s desk.

“Brilliant, Bernard. Well done. This wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact that you are about to go see whatever it is that can actually put a smile on your face is it?” Scott teased, watching the elf’s cheeks flush with a rosy glow.

“Just taking my week of vacation, sir,” he replied sheepishly. The older man, however, wanted to know exactly what was going on. Surprisingly, the whole “Santa sees you when you’re sleeping and knows when you’re awake” thing only applies to humans. Not elves.

“Come on. How long have we worked together now? What do you do when you’re away from the pole, Mr. Workaholic.”

“Sorry, Santa. That is a secret just for me to know. If there is nothing else, I’ll be on my way. Curtis is more than capable to step into my shoes for the week.” As fast as he could, so as to not allow Scott an in, Bernard left the office.

“Bernard,” called the man now stroking his beard thoughtfully, “whoever it is, keep her around.”

The elf stood there for a moment as his mouth gaped open and closed like a fish. Without a word to dignify with that comment with a response, Bernard turned on his heels and left the office for good this time. His bags were packed, and he was able to finally leave.

He took one of their newest reindeers as his transportation. No one batted an eye at Bernard saddling up Lumi for the journey ahead. The sweet girl had just finished her basic training to help pull Santa’s sleigh, but that was still weeks out. Bernard would return her in plenty of time.

Snow barely phased him anymore. Living in the North Pole his entire life, the elf was very used to the cold. So as he made his descent to the backyard of the home he was aiming for, the welcomed sight of a white covered ground greeted him. Just as he tied Lumi to one of the trees, a light flicked on inside. A smile broke free against his will, and Bernard made his way to the back door. His key slipped into the lock right as another went into the front door. The second he stepped inside, warmth spread through him.

“Bernard! You’re here,” and he was nearly knocked over by the weight oh someone tackling him in a hug.

“I’m here, my dear. I’ve missed you.” His arms wrapped around the woman, and he reveled in the feeling that spread through him.

There were few things that managed to warm him, but none like her hugs. Pulling back just a bit to see her face, Bernard found that the both of them were tracing over every feature of the other. She was another year older, with a new fine crinkle by her eyes, a new freckle that had not been there before. He knew that he looked the exact same, but he could not help it.

“Do you want to help me with dinner? I just need to make the sides and pop the rolls in.” She offered, not yet releasing herself from his hold.

“Of course. I’m starving, and I have been dreaming about your roast chicken. You actually know how to baste.”

Thus, the human and the elf settled back into a familiar routine of domesticity. She worried over the seasonings for their meal, while Bernard made sure nothing burned. He helped with plating their sides and rolls, and carried the chicken to the table, while she followed after with some more food.

They did not eat like this the entire time Bernard was here, but the first and last day was special. Tucking themselves into their chairs, the pair begun to dig into their meal. Some light conversation flowed between them, but nothing too deep. It was not until they had retired to the couch that the dialogue took a more serious turn.

Bernard stoked the flames of the fireplace before coming back to sit on the couch with his favorite person. While he sat upright against the back, she leaned over and snuggled into his side. Her head rested against his chest with his heartbeat beating underneath her ear.

“When do I have to give you back?” She turned just a little so that she was able to look up at her partner. They had never quite put a label on what they were, but both knew that they were in love with each other.

“November 30th. I don’t have to leave till late at night though.” Bernard’s fingers began to card through her hair from where she rested.

“Ah. Back in time for last minute preparations.” She mused, to which he nodded in agreement.

“Yeah…” but he did not sound excited about it. His hand stilled on top of her head. In fact, in the last few years, Bernard was increasingly less happy to go back.

“What’s up?” He sighed and stared into the flames ahead.

“What if I didn’t have to go back?”

It was out in the open now. The feeling that he had felt for some time was there for her to react to. And react she did. She sat up incredibly quick and barely missed hitting Bernard’s chin in the process. Her eyes were wide, and her mouth gaped open.

“What do you- what? Huh? What does that mean, B? You have to go back. You told me that elves can’t stay for long periods of time away from the pole.” She was utterly dumbfounded. Her flabbers were gasted.

“Well,” he tried to cut in and explain, “there is actually a way for elves to be away from the pole. It just hasn’t been done in centuries. But it requires us giving up our longevity and magic. In essence, we become human.”

She sat back on the other end of the couch, and did not speak. The longer she stayed quiet, the more nervous Bernard got. This was definitely not the reaction he was expecting. He messed with his hands and felt himself flush, and not because of the warm fire ahead.

“Is that something you’re thinking about?” Her question was spoken so softly, so quietly; it sounded almost angelic.

“Um, a bit. I was just thinking how nice it would be if I could stay here. With you.” He admitted, gazing down at his hands.

“Would you be happy?”

Bernard thought that question was ridiculous. Of course he would. Sure, he would miss the pole, but he wanted to be here. He needed to be here. Curtis was a promising protege and already adept at running the factory and all its runnings without him. Maybe it was time for him to move on. Bernard wanted to be selfish for once in long life.

“Yes.”

Her arms were thrown over him, and he returned the sentiment. Pulling her closer, he set her on his lap as he burrowed into her neck. She placed her cheek on top of his hat that covered his dark curls. They sat just like that for who knows how long. But while they did, Bernard made his choice right then and there.

This would be the last year that Bernard was going to be due back for Christmas.

#rebelliousstories #writing #christmas #christmas movies #the santa clause imagine #the santa clause #bernard the elf imagine #bernard x reader #bernard the elf

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multi-fandom-enjoyer · 1 year ago

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Today was Thanksgiving, and you were invited to have dinner with your girlfriend's family. Currently, you her flying next to her, traveling to their house. Mary was panicking due to it being your first time meeting them.

Mary: Darla will try to attack you with hugs. Freddy likes to spout out random facts. Eugene might ignore you and play his video games. You'll have to be aware of Billy. He's a bit over over protective of the family.

You kissed her on the cheek and reassured her that,

Y/n: Mary, if there anything like you, then I'm sure their lovely.

She smiled at you before landing outside of the house, letting you down and saying, "Shazam!" A lightning bolt then hit her suit, and after a bright flash, she was in her normal clothes.

As soon as you walked into the house, her family begins to surround you, introducing themselves. As Mary predicted, Darla ran and gave you both a hug.

Suddenly, the fire detector goes off, and smoke comes out from the kitchen.

Darla: Oh no! The tofo-turkey!

She runs to the kitchen with Victor following her after telling you,

Victor: Don't worry, we also have real turkey.

Later, you were in the kitchen helping set the table while Freddie was holding the plates and asking,

Freddie: Did you know that the first Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade featured Central Park Zoo animals instead of giant floats.

Before you could reply, your attention turned to a loud thud outside. Through the back door, you could see the hero known as SHAZAM in the backyard holding a pie.

SHAZAM: Sorry I'm late. I had to beat an old lady with a stick for this.

Y/n: Billy?

Billy: Oh hey, Y/n. Shazam!

A lighting bolt strikes him, turning him back into a child. He then enters the house and sets the pie on the table.

Mary: You two know eachother?

Y/n: We teamed up to defeat Teth Adam a few times.

Darla and Vicitor came out of the kitchen. Each was bringing their own turkey to the table. After everyone had sat down at the table, Mary placed her hand in the center of the table.

Mary: All hands on deck.

A few hours after dinner, you said your goodbyes before flying back home.

Y/n: It was nice to meet your family. Is there any chance I can come back for Christmas?

She chuckled and kissed you before saying,

Mary: I think so, it seems they loved you as much as I do.

#mary bromfield #mary marvel #shazam #shazam fury of the gods #grace caroline currey #dc comics #dcu #dceu #mary marvel x reader #mary bromfield x reader #thanksgiving

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culpeppercheckers721 · 3 days ago

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Turnsgiving 2024– Day 2: Character Song Choice

Ok as everybody knows this is already a topic I have talked about a lot (and I will continue to rant about Turn & music lmao) BUT here is some specific stuff for today!!

One: Next Semester

I already cannot shut up about certain character song connections, such as Touchy Feely Fool with Abraham Woodhull, or Inertia in regards to Robert Townsend, two favorite AJR songs for two of my favorite characters— however, to start off, I want to mention another song off my Abe Woodhull playlist: Next Semester by Twenty One Pilots.

It took a minute before this song grew on me, but when it did it was entirely due to the fact that it made me think of Abe, in more ways than one! Every time I rewatch the scene of him standing by King’s College and having a flashback to the day he lost his brother, I now ALWAYS think of the lyrics; “I remember certain things; what I was wearing, the yellow dashes in the street […] then I heard, ‘hey, kid, get out of the road’” and furthermore, OUTSIDE of canon, I will also now ALWAYS associate this song with Man of Regret, an absolutely wonderful fic that I was just re-reading for Thanksgiving! Essentially, it’s a modern AU following Abe trying to finish law school after the trauma of his brother’s death, quite literally starting fresh next semester, and also follows his relationship with Robert and just GOD— the chorus hits. “Can’t change what you’ve done; start fresh next semester.”

I need to make a Next Semester edit some day soon, I’ll be sure to show y’all when I do. ;)

Two: Twin Size Mattress

Now secondly, this is actually a song I’ve brought up before since I made the mistake of hearing it during a certain incredible fic (Do Something Revolutionary) and I was EFFECTED. So yes, Twin Size Mattress. I could deep dive on this and why it weirdly works for Abe (thought don’t get me started on why this song reminds me of IT lmao), but in short, I feel it really encapsulates his story and his struggles, and his ultimate desperation to act, to stand up and do the right thing.

The first line especially resonates for me when I think about him and the rest of the ring— “This is for the lions living in the wiry, broke-down frames of my friends’ bodies.” Like FUCK. 🤡 And of course there are ways to interpret some of these lyrics from a Townhull lens because you guys know me. ;) Especially for some reason “with tears in my eyes, I begged you to stay, you said ‘Hey man, I love you, but no fucking way’”, also wait why do all of these songs have “hey” in them lmfao. Anyways, I’m sorry this post is so long, I just feel so many emotions because of this damn dumbass.

By the way if anyone does want to see my full ongoing Abe Woodhull playlist (which is definitely still subject to change, mind you), here it is: https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLerC4t4w-fi6MahbNajGO1SqSNVwz5czN&si=0K6-Y8VrDplfPVA_

And alright FINALLY, not just Abe-related (for now lmao), this:

Three: One Eyed Bastard

Okay yes this match is a little more surface level just because of his literal “one eyed bastard” arc in season 3 lmfao, BUT the whole motif of revenge and the general energy is, honestly, hilariously fitting for Rogers! Hence why I edited this meme, which I only just remembered I have not properly posted! ;D

This is part of a larger meme compilation I mean to share one day, but for now, enjoy this! 🤠

Thank you so much if you actually read this freakishly long post ACK I’M SORRY ITS SO GARGANTUAN. 😭 I just have so much to say on this topic (and even more posts I haven’t made lol) since I have always been the biggest sucker for setting music to a character that I enjoy. ;)

THANKS FOR READING ONCE AGAIN! 🫶

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legacygirlingreen · 2 years ago

Text

Christmas with the Sallow Family: Chapter 1 // Sebastian Sallow x Reader

Dusty Boots

By: LegacyGirlinGreen

Summary:

The Slythering trio make their way to feldcroft where Sebastian and the new student struggle with their growing affections and where it may lead…

Word Count: 6,000 +

Notes:

This is a continuation of another story, so to gain more context read part 1, titled “Becoming a Proper Gentleman” (linked below)

This work contains some kissing, along with mentions of sexually impure thoughts. Nothing beyond what teenagers are normally thinking but read at your disgression. Also, like the last part, it diverts from Canon, using the characters and situations as foundations. Very little use of y/n!

Chapter 1: Dusty Boots

Anne was waiting by the town’s communal Floo for them when they arrived. Immediately she jumped for his female companion, as in the few months, she had grown to adore the girl. It warmed Sebastian’s heart seeing his sister getting along with any girl - since Anne’s somewhat Tom boy nature was off putting to most of their female classmates - but seeing her with his girl meant the world. Anne even went as far as to threaten him when they were all there for Thanksgiving, warning if he screwed things up that she would help to hide his body herself. So much for twin love and support. He heard Anne comment about how the blue color of the best style corset really brought out the color of her eyes.

Ominis quickly cut in front of Sebastian, stealing his sister’s affection before he got the chance as he huffed in response. Didn’t these people know without him they wouldn’t even know her? Why was it that he seemed to be the last in line for her attention?

Eventually Anne stopped musing over how Ominis had seemingly developed a new mole on his right cheek and turned to her brother. “Sebastian! Your hair!” She called out, immediately reaching to playful tousle it. His twins slender fingers immediately brushed through the now short sides of his hair. Before she got too far he stopped her saying “oh shut it will you, its just a haircut Anne” trying to sound casual given the small crowd of their neighbors that had accumulated due to his sister’s loud shriek moments before. The small hamlet often worried for the girls health as everyone in Feldcroft was quite close.

Anne was one of the few people who knew it wasn’t that simple for him. He simply figured if she was going to talk about it, he would make her wait till the others had gone to bed. Anne soon found herself wrapped in her now much taller twin’s arms, his chin resting on the top of her head. She smelled the newer cologne he had taken to wearing as it mixed with the smell of the soap they always had at Hogwarts. Anne couldn’t help but smile as she caught a brief whiff of the girls perfume lingering on his frame, letting her know recently the girl had been wrapped in her brother’s arms. She was proud of him.

Removing herself, Anne pulled back to simply cup Sebastian’s cheek in her palm. “You look so much like Dad” she whispered out, a slightly sorrowful look in her eye paired with the small smile she was developing. It was bittersweet, but they both knew she meant it with only the kindest of intentions. As he aged, it wasn’t far fetched to imagine that he could take on the appearance of the deceased Sallow patriarch, but to assign that to himself felt odd.

Sebastian had wondered as his chubby cheeks and wide eyes of boyhood were slowly being shed as he developed into a man, where his father and mother remained. His own brown eyes and sly smile being the mark of his father, and unavoidable to not see the comparison when looking in a mirror. His unruly locks and his sea of freckles came from his mother. Beyond that Sebastian tried not to linger on how the shape of his nose or jaw were slowly changing as he grew into more and more an image of his departed dad. Hearing Ann confirm something he often wondered about made him stand up straighter.

Anne quickly walked away from him, and laced arms with the girl, before forcing them all over to the small home. In the back yard was a tent the 4 students to share over break. While Solomon didn’t exactly love the thoughts of his nephew and the new girl sleeping under the same roof, he hoped that his nephew would never dare attempt something inappropriate while his sister or Ominis were around. Plus if he had to hear their late night chatter like he had over Thanksgiving, he would pull his ears off.

As they placed their stuff inside the tent he stood beside Ominis who was intently listening in on the conversation between his flame and Anne as they joined forces to make the tent more livable for the next few weeks. Ominis laughed and the girls, seemingly unaware to him listening, continued on. “Anything interesting?” Sebastian questioned, curious about their conversation, and willing to use his friend’s impeccable hearing to gain insight.

“They are talking about how much older you look with short hair, along with what things it’s doing to our new friend,” Ominis told Sebastian with a chuckle.

Sebastian felt warmth behind his tanned cheeks and he pressed Ominis what that meant by asking, “What it’s doing to her?”

Ominis’s face maintained its amused expression as he explained what he overheard the girls whispering about: “apparently its making our fellow Slytherin weak in the knees since she wants to spend all day running her hands through it”. He emphasized the direct quotes with a dramatized voice.

Sebastian felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and the warmth in his face rush elsewhere. He couldn’t stop his post-pubescent brain from filling his mind with images of her actually on her knees in front of him. He immediately forced himself to think of the librarian of Hogwarts to prevent himself from developing difficult to hide signs of where his mind traveled. Quickly he recovered and responded to Ominis.

“It’s a shame you’re blind Ominis, I am sure if you had the ability to see you too would be weak in the knees” Sebastian quipped.

“I don’t need vision to know that despite a step in the right direction Sallow, my hair will remain impeccable while yours is merely suitable” he responded with a laugh.

“Oh you wound me Gaunt. It’s not my fault the ladies find me irresistible.” Sebastian was happy to have moments like this with his friend, especially since as of late they had been few and far between. That sentiment was short lived however, as Ominis caught him off guard with his reply.

“Ah yes, and am I supposed to ignore which of us got up for a cold shower before anyone was awake this morning”

Sebastian hated how on the nose his friend’s perception was. He truly had no response to give the blond boy. He sheepishly ran a hand up the back of his neck. He felt ashamed, worried that his attempts at being proper squandered in the eyes of his fellow Slytherin and oldest friend.

Ominis laughed at his friend’s discomfort. When he realized Sebastian hadn’t responded Ominis was worried he may have offended his friend, deciding to put a reassuring hand on Sebastian’s shoulder, eager to shift the conversation to a much lighter place. “You may be aware I know very little of what our friend looks like, but given the whispers I hear about the castle, I can imagine whatever… feelings you may be having to be quite natural…”

Sebastian appreciated his friends acceptance of his less than savory thoughts that the blind boy seems to have noticed recently. It wasn’t as if he purposefully dwelled on them either, they just came and went on occasion. Maybe it was the hormones which he had no control over, or a deepening of feelings leading to a place he couldn’t quite understand, but he found his free time now consumed almost entirely of thoughts of her.

Some of them normal, such as simply wandering the halls, attending classes or getting butter beer. Times when they would laugh and mock one another all in good fun. Others were more personal, like their time spend in the vivarium when she would carefully ruffle his hair or he would trace unconscious patterns on the back of her hand as they read in silence. Those precious moments were they both felt entirely comfortable with each other, that gave him hopes of coming home to a peaceful house where they could both enjoy evenings snuggled up together in front of the fire. And while a majority of his thoughts lended towards those avenues, the rest were… less than proper. As time went on, their pecks tended to linger. They shifted into places like his earlobe or the nape of her neck - a spot he found entirely on accident laying in their meadow against a tree one afternoon.

He was sitting upright with his back against the tree, her coming to rest in front of him. As she pointed to something in the book she’d been skimming, he moved the hair off her should to avoid getting a mouthful, as she often would bob her head a lot when excited. Only then did Sebastian find himself staring directly at the delicate nape of her neck, unable to stop himself from placing a small kiss to the soft skin. She had let out a quiet sound, somewhat akin to a moan and a gasp at the contact. From that moment on he found his trousers slightly tighter at the thought of hearing her make that sound again…

The brunette let his eyes wander to where y/n was helping Anne make one of their beds in the corner. He sighed before returning his attention to his oldest friend. “She’s stunning Ominis. Truly.”

Sebastian had never once for a moment pitied the boy’s inability to see, yet for once he did feel sorry the boy would never know how beautiful the girl he cared for so deeply was both inside and out.

He knew Ominis would never be able to appreciate the way she moved with grace, or how her smile could knock a man out. Ominis couldn’t help but notice the shift in Sebastian’s tone. Immediately he had noticed the semi small lump that developed as the boy’s voice trailed off like a man in the desert, desperate for water. Ominis had never experienced real love in his life. His parents, along with majority of his family, were in arranged marriages to keep the bloodlines pure. He never got a chance to meet Sebastian’s parent, and the Twin’s uncle had never attempted to be wed. Most of the professors at Hogwarts kept their personal lives hidden from the students. Despite this he had become very familiar with the words of poets, describing such feelings. Much like Anne, Ominis was happy Sebastian seemed to have finally met his match in the new 5th year…

Describe her to me.

Sebastian almost hadn’t heard Ominis’s reply as he’d been too busy watching her and his sister again. When his gaze shifted back towards the boy he had grown up with, he tried to ponder how exactly to describe the girl without Ominis’s ability to see. He stepped closer, almost embarrassed if the girls were to overhear, as he slowly began to give his sightless friend a picture of the girl he had fallen for.

“She has the most amazing eyes you have ever seen. There’s always a million emotions just brimming under their surface. When I first met her that day in the common room at the start of term I watched them closely. Interest, Confusion, Ambition, Mischief, Eagerness, Excitement, Worry, Attraction… they were all right there. And her eyes are so big, full of wonder for all these things we take for granted. It’s truly amazing to see someone whose eyes are so expressive. I love getting to show her things we have already learned of or know of, since she comes at those things with new eyes full of amazement.

She gets this crinkle in her nose often. Right across the bridge of her nose, but whenever she laughs, quirks an eyebrow, is disgusted, its there and it is cuter than a baby puffskin.

You really should watch her twist her her into one of the elaborate braids she usually sports. They are truly incredible, and her fingers move so effortlessly out of muscle memory. Yet, as brilliant as they are, simply seeing those beautiful locks of hair sweeping across her shoulders is enough to knock the wind out of you. Like a nymph from the forest or a siren of the seas.

I love watching her duel. Her body moves with the grace of a dancer, I half wonder if she had been one before coming to hogwarts because there is no way one can move that way and not have spent time practicing dance. She is fearsome, and elegant and powerful in ever way you can imagine. Her face remains calm yet determined. Her strikes calculated yet seem without effort.

Still, my favorite thing about her, are her hands. They are small, and over the course of the year have become a tad more calloused from holding a wand or flying with Imelda but they hold a delicacy despite the power they contain. She has a few scars scattered along her hands. Her fingers are so nimble and ever time I get the chance to hold them in my own, I… “

Sebastian heard a small intake of breath. His gaze shifted away from describing her to Ominis, eyes locking with the girl as he felt the need to continue his words with confidence for her to hear. “I feel as if everything in the world is falling into place.”

For a brief moment Ominis and Anne were no were to be seen or heard. It was just the two of them in the world. She took a few steps towards him and he found his feet dragging him to meet her in the middle. He immediately brought her hands into his own, fingers intertwined.

Sebastian leaned down, brushing a loose strand of her hair out of her face, and for a moment she was worried he was going to kiss her in front of their friend and his sister. Instead he whispered in her ear “You are slowly becoming my favorite thing in this world”.

unable to speak, she had just moments before been so preoccupied with his sister and catching up, and now she felt as if all the air had left her lungs. She simply squeezed his warm hand with her own, running her thumb across the back of it as she tried to make the words she had screaming in her head leave her mouth.

Just as she attempted to make her reply known, Solomon called out for Anne to come back inside. She took a slight step back from Sebastian, releasing his hand. Ominis had held out an arm towards Anne as they left the tent with hast and Sebastian held his out for her. He felt more of the warmth from her fingers wrapping around his upper arm, as his lack of a thick wool suit provided closer contact between her fingers and his bicep.

The four teens migrated back to the front yard and towards the cottage. Just before entering he felt her stall for a brief moment. Her hand lifted to help tuck his forelock back in place, before they stepped through the open door behind Ominis and Anne.

“Thank you as always Mr. Sallow for allowing me to stay in your family home.” Sebastian heard Ominis say to his uncle. Ominis was always good at minding his manners despite not particularly loving the twin’s guardian. It most likely stemmed from growing up in the Gaunt household, with their higher class and reputation in the wizarding world necessary to maintain. Ominis himself had often found it hard to ditch the lessons he had from their families strict educators.

“Of course Gaunt, there’s always a place in this home for those who have need for it, speaking of which…” Solomon trailed off looking for the girl and Sebastian as his eyes landed on the pair. He couldn’t help but notice how comfortable they had slowly acclimated to his nephew properly escorting her around. He wasn’t a fool, nor was he oblivious to the way their fingers brushed together under his dining table, or how they both let their eyes linger on each other. Yet, despite his qualms with his extremely hot-headed nephew, it was a comforting thought that some day, perhaps not too far away, he would have someone kind and gentle to come home to every night.

Solomon had half expected Sebastian to completely ignore his demand to tame his ridiculous hair, however he was pleasantly surprised as his eyes landed on a groomed and much more mature looking young man. Not only was his hair actually kept, Sebastian actually seemed okay with the change, not slumping or sulking as he had figured.

“Ah, I have to hand it to you, the way you are shaping my nephew into a fine young man is incredible to say the least.” Solomon said to her as he now stood directly in front of the pair. Sebastian briefly felt anger surge through him, as if he wasn’t capable of learning how to be a gentleman without help. He suddenly calmed as he felt her thumb softly stroke the inside of his bicep as she responded to his Uncle.

“Actually Mr. Sallow, I believe Sebastian to have been doing a fine job of that himself. He has received no additional encouragement from myself. If you are to be proud of anyone, it should be him alone. I know that I am proud to stand at his side.”

Sebastian stood up straighter at her words. He felt confidence shoot through his veins at her confirmation that he, a growing young man and proper gentlemen was both recognized and respected in her eyes. She was willing to stand in front of his uncle and defend his honor in such a way. That meant everything to him.

Solomon turned his attention from the young woman to his nephew, taking in the stark contrast from the boy he’d sent to Hogwarts in September to the young man who stood here now. It was incredible how a few months could change so much. Mr. Sallow awkwardly coughed, realizing he was in the wrong.

“I suppose you are right lass. Sebastian…” he trailed off as he found himself no longer looking down at the boy, instead staring directly into his eyes. So much like his father, especially his brown eyes. “I am pleased with the changes I have seen thus far. You are making your father proud boy”. Solomon held out a hand towards Sebastian and he gripped it with all the unspoken words from the last few years.

Sebastian could never have imagined that his Uncle would mutter such kind words to him, especially in regards to how much he had grown up. And while it meant so much to feel as if the years of being at each other’s throats was slowly coming to a close, he wanted out of a situation with 3 sets of eyes on them. He refused to show emotion in front of them, for fear the words his uncle said would be quickly revoked.

“Sebastian you should show her around the town since she still has yet to meet everyone” Anne called from across the room breaking the tension. He simply nodded, half dragging, half walking the girl out of the house as quickly as possible. He refused to make eye contact with any of them as he did so.

As soon as they made it outside he felt the air slowly returning to his lungs. “Sometimes he can be a right foul git you know that?” He said, turning his attention towards the girl. She nodded, rubbing her hand up and down his arm comfortingly.

“At the end of the day, while I am not sure I truly want his respect, its comforting to know I have it I guess.” Sebastian looked at their shoes. His worn boots would soon need to be cleaned, re-polished and waxed. Her tan boots were laced up all the way to her knees next to his.

“We don’t have to dwell on your Uncle, lets just try and enjoy the afternoon.” Her voice spoke calmly and reassuringly. He found himself nodding at her words, deciding he shouldn’t let it ruin his time. He was curious of one thing however…

“Did you mean it?” He asked her, his hand coming to meet where hers was resting on his upper arm.

“Mean what?” She asked, confused what he had been referring to.

“The part about being proud to stand at my side?” He asked, bringing her fingers to thread in his own as his brown eyes met hers.

“There is not another person in the world who I would rather stand beside.” She said, her words confident. Her eyes not breaking from his.

“Then I shall remain beside you until the day you no longer wish to have me.” He said, unsure how much she would read into the depth of his words.

“I fear that day may never come” she whispered out, eyes still locked on his.

“Then so be it.” He said, leaning in and allowing his lips to ghost over her cheek. He allowed them to linger, far longer than he should have, as every voice in his head was screaming to move over slightly to the left, and allow himself the indulgence of claiming her mouth with his. He did restrain himself, deciding that he wanted that moment to be completely on his terms, special, and not to mention private.

He pulled back slightly, resting his forehead along the top of her head, inhaling her lightly floral scent. “I thought you were going to show me the rest of the hamlet” She asked quietly.

“Show you the village? You mean show you off to the village.” He said cheekily.

“Ah yes, every little girls dream… to be carted around like a prize show horse to see. How romantic Sebastian.” She may have retorted with sarcasm and an eye roll but the smile on her face was evident she held no issue with his words

“Show horse? I was imagining more like a calf or…” She didn’t allow him to finish the words before she smacked his arm playfully.

“Oh you’re going to regret that Sallow.” She said with mild irritation in her voice.

“How so?” He asked with a laugh at her feigning annoyance. She hadn’t thought that far ahead…

“Mhm, see I knew you couldn’t be truly mad at me. I apologize for likening you to farm animals my dear.” He responded at her lack of an answer.

“Oh sure, its easy to apologize when threatened…” she grumped out.

Sebastian couldn’t help but stifle a laugh at her grumpy mood. He moved her back into the crux of his elbow holding his head high as he told her “You make it so easy to get under your skin Darling…” His eyes stared straight into hers, almost eating the girl alive.

The way his voice trailed off might’ve been concerning but she brushed it off. They had slowly been developing more moments of quips that turned into desire. While the thought of it should’ve deeply troubled her, she found very little ability to worry where those feelings may lead. Perhaps it was the semi-urgency she felt as her world became more and more dangerous daily, or seeing his sister withering away driving them both into adulthood at a rapidly alarming rate. However, she refused to allow the young man to get a rise out of her in the open field. Especially given her inability to draw the line at what he considered playful and what was his manhood slowly become untamed…

“Moo” she found herself letting out the animal noise. Immediately his loud laugh echoed through the air. He pulled her tighter into his side as his head was thrown back at her antics.

“Ah, my little Heifer…” He choked out somewhere between his laughing fits. She couldn’t help but crack a smile at a very rare genuine laugh coming from the boy.

“You are to never call me that ever again, is that understood”.

Sebastian pulled her back to his side as he slowly started taking steps away from his home, “Oh but come on, you have to admit it would be such a unique pet name”.

She immediately shook her head in horror of the thought he would lovingly call her a sexually mature cow with endearment.

“Well if not Heifer, what should I call you?” He asked her as they started the loop through Feldcroft.

“Ask me again some other time, and for now keep anything with 4 legs out of contention” she retorted.

“So that leaves those with 8 in the running I see. How about my little arachnid” She laughed at his antics as they began approaching some of his neighbors as her words continued to rage in his head.

I fear that day may never come.

_________________________________________

“No, no that’s not at all what happened…” Sebastian let out with a groan of frustration. His sister and his friend had seemingly made it their lives goal to embarrass him in front of his companion and he was beginning to grow tired of their antics. He abruptly moved from the fire in the center of the tent, walking into the side room him and Ominis were to share.

“I fear we have embarrassed my poor brother” Anne said with a joint laugh between herself and Ominis. The afternoon had come and gone, with the boys helping Solomon outside for most of the day as the girls stayed in and cooked. Dinner came and went fairly uneventful before Solomon shooed the teens out of the house as their loud conversations were beginning to cause him grief. As they had settled in by the small fire in the center, Anne and Ominis quickly ganged up on him by sharing his less than proud moments with the girl he was growing to hold dear.

At first she was amused at learning memories the trio had shared. However, as time went on she began to notice from across the flames as his face into annoyance. When he left abruptly it concerned her. She turned towards Anne and simply muttered “I shall be right back, I am going to check on him”.

“My brother tends to get hotheaded from time to time, I am sure he is fine” Anne told the girl but she shook her head as if to say please allow us privacy. Anne did not say a word, nor did Ominis as the girl followed the direction Sebastian had gone. While Solomon had assumed Sebastian’s sister and friend would keep complete eyes on the young couple, he failed to realize they too were teenagers who would also enjoy a moment alone…

When she lifted the small flap that separated the side room from the main room she wasn’t expecting to see Sebastian laying on his back on the bed she had made that morning. His eyes were trained to the ceiling.

“You know your boots are going to make a mess of the bed I made” she said, coming to stand at the bedside.

He shrugged as his comfort in the position made him not want to remove the dirt covered shoes. As much as she wanted nothing more than to lay next to him, she worried with the close proximity of his sister, their friend, and even his uncle it to be unwise. The pair had never both laid next to each other before, only one at a time laying as the other kept distance.

She opted to move towards the foot of the bed, taking a seat next to his feet. She noted how his eyes had followed her as she moved. His eyebrow quirked as if to ask what she was doing. She decided to not reply as she slowly began to unlace the boot closest to her. He watched as her nibble fingers made quick work of the laces. She quickly repeated the process on his other shoe. Before he could object she was pulling them off of his feet. Sebastian was genuinely concerned at how bad they may have smelled given how much time he had spent outside today. If they did, she surely didn’t say anything.

He was expecting that to be the end of her motivation. The dirty shoes were off the bed after all. She didn’t say anything as she held on in her lap, reaching inside the never ending pouch she kept attached to her hip. She produced a small stiff brush and began slowly removing the dirt from the toe of his boot. Sebastian sat up and went to reach for his worn leather soles, “hey, you don’t have to do that” he said to her, still attempting to grab them out of her hands.

She shook her head at him, eyes trained on the worn soles of his boots to avoid looking at him. She continued to work at scuffing them out. She truly shouldn’t have followed him into a private area and begun undressing him. While she was deeply concerned he would read into the action, she found she wasn’t regretting it.

“That’s not your job Sweetheart.” Sebastian fully pushed his weight to the end of the bed, his long legs draping off the edges as his feet came to touch the floor. Now that he was beside her, his thigh pressed into hers. He set his hand on top of hers, to stop her actions.

“I really don’t mind dear… I” her words trailed off as Sebastian stroked his thumb against hers. She couldn’t stop the way her fingers slowly started to shake.

“You’re trembling” he said it so matter of factly despite his words coming out as a whisper.

“It would appear that I am” she said, hoping if she owned up to it, she could blame it on the cold and he would drop the issue.

“You know I would never do anything to hurt you.” He said with a drop in his voice. Shesaw his eyes trained on the floor.

“Of course I know that.” She said, upset he would think otherwise.

“I would also never intentionally do anything to rob your honor.” He said finally lifting his eyes to meet hers. Her breath faltered at his candor.

“I… I know that Sebastian. I trust you, fully.” As she emphasized the last work his fingers curled into hers.

“I will admit, it is becoming increasingly difficult to maintain my propriety when I am around you…” his words trailed off as her eyes bore into his own. He tried to force his away. Sebastian slowly felt the voice of self control to be melting away as her y/e/c orbs stared back at him.

“I fear that I may do something improper. You put your trust in me, and I worry that may lead me to a place that disgraces your virtue.” Sebastian found himself being honest with her. While the admission may have been completely forward, he knew ultimately he could trust her. The feelings he had were slowly becoming too strong to bear.

“I fear that I may wish for you to do so” she whispered out. She had been terrified as his admissions were leading to a swelling in the pits of her stomach. She should have had more tact in her words, but the hovering feeling in the air, and his hand on hers, was making it difficult to think straight.

Sebastian blinked rapidly at her admission of also having impure thoughts towards him. The tremors in her fingers seem to spread throughout her body, as his thigh felt hers slowly shaking against him. While he knew they should both be terrified at her admission, they were already crossing boundaries. What more harm could it do to remind her the implications of what she spoke “And if I were to do as such, you would be forced to remain with me.”

“I see no fault in that fact.” She truly needed to stop talking. They were still at least a year away from being done with school. To discuss such matters without her father present were more than likely shameful, but she couldn’t stop the admission.

“If that were to happen, where would that lead you missy?” Sebastian felt himself leaning into the girl. His face was so close to hers that he could see the way the sun had left small freckles on the skin below her eyes. He could count the long eyelashes framing her eyes. He could feel her slow outtake of breath on his face. He could see the way her lips had parted before he quickly drug his eyes back up to hers. She noticed where his gaze had slipped. He lifted his hand to her chin, holding her there anxiously awaiting her reply.

It would lead me to a long and joyful life as Mrs. Sebastian Sallow...

His mouth was immediately on hers. Sebastian had occasionally wondered what it would feel like to have another’s mouth on his own. As her rose petal lips made contact with his, he realized what he had been missing out on. The soft pull of her mouth on his, providing such a lovely sensation. While she kept her mouth mostly closed, he still enjoyed the way her lips were creating the slightest amount of suction on his own. It was like all the missing parts were coming together and for the first time in his life he felt whole.

She felt her body react in shock as he had claimed her lips, but it didn’t take long for that power in her body that knew what was happening to take over. She allowed him to pull her closer to him with an arm he had snaked around her small waist. Her own hands coming up to hold him closer: one landing on his chest and the other at the nape of his neck. She quickly tangled her hands in his short hair, running her fingernails over his scalp. Sebastian was unable to stop the slight groan that left his lips and went straight into her mouth at the contact.

While he had initially allowed their first kiss to be rushed by soft, he was slowly gaining a momentum. The hunger in his stomach only grew with ever pass of his lips on hers. He pulled back, only for a moment to see her slowly gaze at him with hooded eyes. Her lips were parted from his own ministrations and he couldn’t help but notice the way her cheeks were dusted pink. She looked absolutely adorable with her mind seemingly far way and only her mild dishevel appearance looking back at him. Then her words came rushing back to him. Mrs. Sebastian Sallow. He pulled her back in with ferocity.

He wasn’t sure why he allowed himself to be dominated by the thoughts of her carrying his name. While he understood that courtship led to engagement, with engagement leading to marriage, he hadn’t truly seen the progression as a real thing until this moment. In his head it always was far away, a future endeavor, yet right now that forever was starting to feel closer. He wanted it. He wanted her.

She slowly pulled back from him, noting the devilish grin growing on his slightly swollen lips. Her one hand were still tangled in his hair while he lifted one of his own to claim the one she had situated on his chest. He lifted it, placing a kiss on her ring finger before holding it close to him. Sebastian was slowly relaxing as her nails scratched his head. He felt lightheaded at how wonderful it felt to hold her close, to have kissed her, to imagine a future where he could place a ring on her hand.

Sebastian sighed before saying “I think I know what you mean about what my hair has to offer now” with a soft laugh.

She allowed him a slight stifled laugh at the remembrance of her late night confession. “This is along the lines of what I was referring to, however, not exactly what I meant”

“What more could you do?” He asked leaning back in, ready to continue their time together. She brought her open hand, threading her fingers in his hair before carefully tightening a fist as she pulled his hair. Sebastian let out an almost feral groan and instantly became aware of how tight his pants were becoming. He shifted back from her, his hand reaching around his neck to where she had just pulled his brown locks in such a manor.

“Where… where did you learn that?” He asked her, quite unsure how the inexperienced girl knew how to immediately turn him into a mess.

“The restricted section has, other material you know…” her voice trailing off suggestively.

He pulled her back to his side, hand holding her cheek before leaning his forehead against y/n’s. “You, my darling, are a minx”

“Don’t act like you don’t love it Sallow” she said rolling her eyes, not moving against him.

“Oh I most certainly do”. He said it with such conviction it made her nerves swell.

”They are being awfully quite in there…” she trailed off remembering Anne and Ominis had been left in the main area. Sebastian laughed at her recognition.

“I imagine they have found themselves in a quite similar situation.” He said with a chuckle.

She gasped before saying “Anne… and Ominis? They?” Looking at the flap almost ready to barge in on the pair.

”It’s a fairly recent development I believe, but I have my suspicions.” He had a feeling about it around Thanksgiving when he caught Ominis pressing a slight kiss to the side of Anne’s face as they were heading back to school. When he inquired however, Ominis was quick to deny everything.

“I can’t believe it. Right under our noses” She said still sounding dumbfounded.

“Well, they aren’t nearly as far along as the two of us, I know that.” He said, fingers tangling back with hers as he drug her closer again.

“And how do you know that?” She asked him, eyebrow quirking, unaware of his intention for pulling her close.

”Because I am not afraid to admit or act on my feelings for you” Sebastian whispered before he pulled her mouth back to his.

To Be Continued…

Notes:

Thank you again for reading! I did not spend as much time double checking the editing but I wanted to get it out for those who were interested. If there’s any grammatical mistakes I apologize and I will get on them shortly! See you in the next chapter and as always feel free to leave suggestions!

#sebastian x reader #sebastian sallow x slytherin!reader #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow/reader #ominis gaunt #anne sallow #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fanfic #fluff #harry potter

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