#learning that a jacket on a snowman would stop cold air escaping

[starleska]

guys, i just realised something. Jack Frost takes off his jacket when he's outside in the snow. and he puts it back on when he's inside. because he's. he's cold!!! ❄️❄️❄️

[snowstark]

counting to 100. 🍒

For @tonystarkbingo | Fill: Peter Parker/Spider-Man For @peterparkerbingo | Fill: Villain Redemption The one where the Superior Iron Man finds himself having a soft spot for Little!Peter who regresses after a stressful day as Spider-Man. READ ON AO3

The first time Peter saw him, it was when he was out on patrol.

He remembered hiding behind the line of hedges on the penthouse rooftop, stilling his breath like he was terrified that he could hear him. He remembered letting out a little gasp when the— the thing—armour?—wrapped around his body, enveloping him like a snake slithering up his torso, and remembered the way his blue gaze had snapped to his hiding spot. He’d known he’d given himself away that night.

But the Superior hadn’t done anything; his gaze lingered on Peter for a few moments before he disappeared, leaving behind a trail of dust as he shot off.

The second time Peter saw him, it was when he was sitting on the curbside of the empty playground, humming under his breath as he traced the alphabet into the sand. He’d had a rough day, and he could feel the familiar haze of warmth and safety and softness approaching him when he was interrupted by a set of sharp, clean black shoes at the corner of his vision. He jumped to his feet and stared with wide eyes. It was 4 in the morning; no one ever came to this area by now.

But this was the Superior, and he played by his own rules.

Peter’s chest tightened with fear and he stammered, “I— ‘m not—”

“You’re young,” the Superior noted, and Peter fell silent, wringing his mask in his hands.

Then, he looked down and gasped. His mask! He was— he wasn’t supposed to let anyone see— he tried to yank it back onto his face but a silver tendril shot out and wrapped around his wrist, making him choke on another gasp. “Please,” Peter whimpered.

“So fearful, little one. What scares you this way?”

And that— that was just a ridiculous question. The Superior was scaring Peter, and there was no way he didn’t know that. Peter knew who the Superior was, knew what he could do, but he was little right now, and fear only made him feel smaller by the second.

“I don’t—” A pitiful noise escaped Peter’s throat again, and the tendril retreated to hover over the letters scrawled into the sand. Peter followed the movement with his gaze. He’d stopped at ‘P.’

Then, the Superior wrote, slowly: ‘Q.’

Peter’s lips parted in surprise.

“What comes next, little one?”

Peter’s gaze jumped back to his face, and the armour melted away like a melting snowman. The Superior raised his eyebrows, and Peter bit his lip, then said softly, “R.”

The Superior’s lips quirked into a small smile. “That’s correct. Smart thing, aren’t you?”

Peter felt his cheeks tinting with warmth, and he ducked his head. The warm, fuzzy feeling was approaching his vision again, strong this time, even though deep down, somewhere in his brain, he knew he should be making an excuse, should be trying to put some distance between them, and get home safely.

But thoughts were hard. It was like trying to swim in mud. Fuzzy mud. And Peter wasn’t a caterpillar.

So, he looked down at the sand, bent down, and wrote ‘R.’ Then, he looked up at the Superior, who nodded, and he wrote ‘S,’ then ‘T’ and ‘U.’ He continued until he reached ‘Z,’ where he ended it off by drawing a little heart.

“‘m done,” he said softly, looking up at the Superior.

The man had his hands tucked into his pockets, and he gave Peter an impressed look, drawling, “Look how smart you are. Now can you count to 100?”

Peter blinked, and said uncertainly, “‘s— ‘s a big number.”

The Superior’s lips tugged into a smile, eyes crinkling the slightest bit. “It is, isn’t it?” Then, he turned his head, like he was concentrating on something far away, and Peter got on his tip-toes to try to see too. Except he didn’t see anything but the dark, black sky.

Then, the Superior said, “Practice your numbers, little one,” before the armour covered him in a shimmering case of silver. He was gone within moments, leaving Peter standing there with nothing but the English alphabet etched into the sand.

--- --- ---

For some inexplicable reason, Peter found himself back at the playground again the next day. Someone had erased the alphabet, but he wasn’t upset. He could start again.

The weather was getting colder now. He’d have to bring a jacket or something to wear over his suit when he was done patrolling. He always got a little more chilly when he was slipping into that safe space too, like he was being poked by icicles.

He was sitting on the swings when the Superior arrived, as if they’d planned a rendezvous.

He looked up, surprised. The first day had been a coincidence, this was not.

The Superior was silent as the armour melted away, and Peter fidgeted nervously before squeaking out, “Hi.”

The Superior lifted a poised eyebrow. “You’re out late again.”

“Um, I patrol.” Peter lifted his mask up, blinking uncertainly up at him. “‘s my break time right now. And ‘m hungry.”

“Patrol, huh?” A coil of metal reached out to flick Peter under the chin, making him jump. “Brave boy, keeping this place safe.”

“Sometimes,” Peter said softly. “Because sometimes I see bad things on TV at school ‘n I have to go fix it.”

“Oh, do you? Is that why you can’t count to 100? Been skipping class too much, little dove?”

Peter’s lips formed a small pout before he could help himself. “I can count,” he protested, affronted. “‘s just a little bit hard, sometimes.”

“Well, that’s okay. You can always ask for help, can’t you?” The Superior approached him, watched his feet skitter nervously on the sand of the playground.

Peter nodded timidly, then asked, “What’s a dove?”

The Superior’s lips twitched. “You’re a dove.”

Peter looked down at himself, confused, then back up at him. “‘m not! ‘m just— ‘m just Peter.”

The Superior didn’t say anything, just watched him fidget some more on the swing before he murmured, “I have a surprise for you.”

“A surprise?”

The Superior gave a slight nod.

“I like surprises,” Peter admitted softly.

“Well, then, you’re a lucky boy.” The Superior extended a silver tendril behind the bushes to draw something out.

Peter slid off the swing, eyes wide. Then, when the object was close enough for him to make out what it was, he gasped. “For me?”

The Superior nodded again, pressing the white teddy bear into his chest.

Peter grabbed it immediately, pressing his fingers into the fur. It was softer than anything else he’d ever touched; it didn’t feel like a cheap dollar-store purchase, but more like the type you would see on display at fancy clothing stores, sitting on the counter. He pressed his face to it, rubbing his cheek against it as he let out happy noises.

“What do you say?”

Peter’s gaze jerked up to meet the Superior’s expectant gaze. “Thank you,” he said breathlessly. “I love her.”

The Superior looked smug. “I knew you would.” Then, he turned around again, just like he’d done last night, staring at what only he could see, and Peter clutched the bear closer to him.

“Um— Mr. Superior?”

“Hm?” The Superior didn’t turn his head.

“Can I— she’s mine?”

“She is.” With that, the silver armour began to ghost over his body again, and Peter almost watched with an air of desperation as his face disappeared from view.

“Mr. Superior?” he blurted out in a rush before he could leave.

The Superior waited.

“Um— thank you. Can I have 100 bears?” The words left without Peter realizing it and he gasped, mortified that he’d even asked such a thing. He sounded spoiled.

But the Superior just chuckled. “Maybe if you learn how to count, sure.”

“And um— will you— will you be here tomorrow, maybe?” Peter bit his cheeks, flushing.

The Superior tilted his head. “Do you want me to be?”

Peter ducked his head, shuffling his feet.

When he didn’t respond, the Superior told him, “I’ll be here,” before he turned and left the playground.

Peter watched him disappear, then looked down at the bear in his hands for a long time before heading home.

--- --- ---

The Superior met him every night after that, and that was just incomprehensible to Peter. He knew the man had better things to do. Maybe he was just interested in him because he knew he was Spider-Man.

But even that didn’t make sense, because the Superior never brought it up, nor did he try to hurt him. In fact, Peter found that the urge to go on patrol and be New York’s brave superhero was lessening in favour of being small with the Superior.

The Superior was nice to him. Nicer than anything he could’ve ever imagined. He always brought Peter nice gifts, like a snack, or a warm hoodie for him to wear, and even some hot chocolate.

He always said nice things to Peter too, like you’re a smart boy and such sweet manners, little one, I’m impressed.

But then, one night, for the first time, the Superior was upset with him.

Peter was terrified, and had nearly started sobbing as he collapsed into the swing, the meat of his palms pressed to his eyes.

“What did you say to me?” the Superior demanded, and Peter had never heard his voice like that before.

“I don’t— ‘m sorry—” he whimpered, breath quickening when he felt a tendril of metal wrap around his wrists, pulling them down from his face. “Just— just don’t wanna keep takin’ gifts, M-Mr. Superior, don’t want anymore—”

“Oh, no, no,” the Superior interrupted, his ice-cold gaze burning into Peter, and that didn’t make sense either, because ice was supposed to be cold, not hot. “That’s not your choice to make. It’s always the same thing with you little ants. Never happy, never grateful, only little brats.”

“‘m sorry!” Peter cried again, sniffling.

The Superior was quiet for a few moments, and all Peter could hear was the sound of the man’s harsh breathing in the space between them before it gradually deepened into its regular soothing rhythm. Then— “You’re a sweet boy.”

The words made Peter’s eyes fly open in confusion, and he asked tearfully, “I am?”

The Superior nodded. His gaze was more gentle now. Not soft like it usually was, but gentle. “And that’s why I keep bringing you gifts, little one. It’s rude to deny them when I’m being generous. I’m not always a generous man.”

“Just to me,” Peter sniffled.

“That’s right,” the Superior crooned. “Smart boy, always learning so fast. C’mere, little one, let your Superior teach you how to repent properly.”

Peter stumbled forward, scrunching his face as he mumbled, “I dunno what that word means, Mr. Superior.”

“It means you show me how sorry you are.” The Superior cupped his chin with a hand, tipping his face up. “Because you were rude, weren’t you?”

“Uh-huh,” Peter hiccuped. “‘m sorry.”

The Superior’s thumb stroked over his cheek. Then, he said, “No more tears, little one. I can tell how sorry you are. Had a bit of a scare, didn’t you, poor thing?”

And that was confusing too, because the Superior was comforting him like he’d just woken up from a nightmare when he was the nightmare. But Peter just pressed into the touch and mumbled again, “‘m sorry.”

“I know, little one. But you’re going to be so much more well-behaved now, I know it. You’re a good boy.”

Peter nodded timidly.

For the rest of the night, the Superior watched Peter struggle to complete the hopscotch he’d drawn for him in the sand before leaving.

--- --- ---

Peter was considerably meeker the next day, and he knew that the Superior knew. But he couldn’t help it; he just wanted to be good.

Eventually, the Superior said, “Want to do something fun, little one?”

“Fun?” Peter blinked, then asked softly, “What kinda fun?”

“Mmm.” The Superior tilted his head, eyes glinting. They almost looked like the moon in the sky, glimmering with light. Like a night-light, almost. “Do you want to fly, little one?”

“Fly?” Peter gasped, eyes wide. “I— I can kind of fly.” He held his wrists out in demonstration of his web shooters.

The Superior chuckled, reaching out—with his hand, for once—to gently grip his wrist and tug it back down. “Oh, sweet thing, that’s not true flight. I can show you how to really fly. I promise it’ll be fun. A reward for being so good today.” He crouched down now, eye-level with Peter sitting on the ground. “Do you trust me?”

Peter stared at him, breath shallow in his chest. He wrapped a hand around the Superior’s finger, looked down at it, then back up at his face. “Yes,” he whispered.

The Superior reached out and picked him up, and Peter let him. “Good boy. Hang on tight.”

“Yes, Mr. Superior.” Peter did exactly as he was told, clinging to the Superior’s arms as they stood with his back to the Superior’s front. He could feel the familiar shift as the armour wreathed over the Superior’s body, but it didn’t cover him.

“Are you ready, little one?” The words were spoken in a low voice, quiet enough that Peter had to strain to listen to him.

“Uh-huh.” Peter tightened his grip, heart beginning to pound. He knew he’d be fine. The Superior hadn’t hurt him yet, and he wouldn’t now. And if he fell, well, he had his webs. He might be a little more clumsy with how small he was feeling, but he could do it.

Or maybe the Superior would be the one to catch him.

“Good.” With that, the Superior lifted off the ground, making Peter inhale sharply.

They went up, up, and up, until Peter was convinced that they could touch the sky. Then they were going forward, picking up speed, and Peter gradually found himself relaxing as fear left him, replaced by pure delight at the sight of the twinkling buildings illuminated against the night sky.

The wind was cold against his face as the Superior let them swoop down. Peter let out a thrilled yelp and let his arms fly out, the Superior’s grip on him the only thing keeping him held and safe.

There was a chuckle from above. “Little dove, flying through the air, hm? Daddy taught you how to fly?”

Peter grinned and twisted in his grip, and the Superior held tight. “‘m flying!” he shouted, feet kicking before he could help himself.

Another laugh, and the Superior didn’t say anything else.

Peter kept his arms extended as they shot through the sky, and the Superior even did a loop-de-loop when he begged him enough. Then, Peter pointed at a little apartment building that they zoomed by and squealed, “‘s where I live!”

“Is it?” the Superior murmured, sounding interested. “Do you want me to drop you off at home, little one? Is it bedtime for you yet?”

Peter shook his head adamantly, pouting. “Nooo, I wanna stay with you.” He glanced up, craning his neck, and found the Superior looking down at him.

“Always saying the right things, little dove.”

Peter smiled. He was being good, and now he got to fly with the Superior, and he’d ask if they could do the same thing tomorrow night, too. He was sure he’d get a yes in return.

He turned his attention back to the buildings they shot past, then gasped. “What’s that?” he pointed at the large tower standing tall and proud amongst all the other buildings.

“That’s my tower.”

“Yours?” Peter gasped, eyes wide. “You live there? ‘s so big!”

The Superior nodded, speed picking up the slightest bit. “Do you want to see it?”

Peter didn’t hesitate. “Yes! Please!”

The Superior chuckled. “Well, only because you asked so nicely. I do have a weak spot for pretty words.” With that, he held onto Peter tighter before shooting off towards the tower.

Peter squealed, covering his face with his hands. “Can’t breathe!” he proclaimed dramatically, hearing the wind whip past his ears.

The Superior laughed above him. “Don’t be ridiculous, little one. You’re perfectly fine.”

Peter gave a little wriggle, but he didn’t voice any more protests as they neared the tower.

It was even more grand up close, with big fat letters that said “STARK” and windows that reflected the moonlight that shone down on them. Peter squirmed to get down, and when their feet landed on the platform, their shadows painted streaks across the floor.

“Wow,” Peter breathed, craning his neck to stare up at the sky. They were so close to the moon, he could feel it. He wondered what the moon would feel like in his hand. Cold and heavy, maybe. “Mr. Superior?”

“Hm?”

“Can you get the moon for me?” Peter turned big, pleading eyes to the Superior.

The Superior chuckled. “Perhaps one day, little one.” He outstretched a hand, and Peter took it, obediently scampering by his heel like an excited puppy as they walked towards the open door.

The Superior led him inside, then let go of his hand. Peter immediately ran to the large windows and pressed his nose against it. “‘s so pretty.”

“Do you like the view?”

Peter nodded without turning to look at him.

Then, there was a hand on his shoulder, squeezing lightly to get his attention. Peter looked up and met a pair of pale blue eyes. “You see that, little one?” Peter followed the Superior’s finger to stare out of the window and at the sparkling city before him. “This is my world. This is my universe. I own it all. And if you’re good, I can give you some of it too.”

“For me?” Peter’s eyes widened. “But— but I dunno how to own it.” He could barely keep track of where he left his stuffies, never mind buildings.

The Superior chuckled. “Well, it’s why you have me. You can always ask for help.” He ran a soothing hand through Peter’s wind-tousled hair. “Are you hungry?”

“Mhm.” Peter blinked up pleadingly. “Pizza.”

The Superior rolled his eyes. “You always want pizza.”

“‘cause it’s good!” Peter pouted.

“Fine. But only one with veggies on it.”

Peter pulled a face, but he knew he’d already lost the fight. Maybe he could pick them off when the pizza came. He followed the Superior towards the kitchen, counting the number of windows they passed by. Then— “Mr. Superior?”

“Hm?” The Superior looked down at him.

“Can you— can you help me? Um, to count to 100?” Peter asked softly.

The Superior appraised him, then smiled. “Oh, little one, you most definitely asked the right person.”

Peter smiled, biting his bottom lip happily, then got up onto his tip-toes to plant a quick, shy kiss to the Superior’s cheek. “Thank you.”

He knew he could always ask the Superior for help.

part 2?? maybe?? tagging: @vaguekiwi @carelessannie @starkentrprises @thegreenmetblue @professional-benaddict

[oikawa-tuwu]

Porch (gn!Reader x Kuroo)

Rated G, 1.6k words

Not Home for the Holidays Masterlist

"Have you ever made a snowman?"

It’s ten in the morning, and you are starting to get concerned.

There he is again, that man, lingering in front of the bay window facing the front lawn, gazing wistfully at the falling snow.

How long has he been there? Since breakfast, at least. Was he there last night, too? Watching those first flakes fall, dusting everything with a little bit of soft white powder. Either way, the man doesn’t look like he plans on moving anytime soon.

And, yeah, maybe there isn’t much to do otherwise. Most of the attractions of the local town were more summer-based, so many of your guests this time of year are just looking for an escape from their regular life, an excuse to do nothing and watch the snow fall. Writers on a retreat, hoping for a strike of inspiration for their next project. Business-men, on the search for a cheap escape from city life. People looking to spend the holidays somewhere that wasn’t their cold, empty apartments.

Still, watching that man sit, frozen,  entranced by the snow outside, was definitely starting to get concerning.

 Whatever. You have chores to do.

 And then the man moved.

That  was the last straw. A couple hours later, when you pass through the entryway, from the stairs to the sitting room to take a break, you notice the man is gone. After a glance outside the windows, you spot him on the porch. Outside. In the freezing cold winter weather.

You watch him for a second, as he leans against the porch railing, still staring at the falling snow.

With a resigned sigh, you reach for your jacket and boots, and follow him outside.

“Hi,” you say, as you sidle up next to him. “Kuroo, right?”

“Yeah,” he answers, but he sounds a little surprised to see you there. “And you… work here at the bed and breakfast?”

“I  own the bed and breakfast,” you correct. “The name’s Y/n.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

It’s quiet for a moment. Peaceful, as you both watch your breath in the chilly air. However, you're thinking, trying desperately to perfectly enunciate the worries on your mind, but there’s no subtle way to inquire if your guest is doing alright, mentally, without sounding abrasive or like you're trying to be an armchair psychologist. Maybe you should just come right out and ask it? Hey, guest of mine, how's it going in that head of yours?

But, before you can, Kuroo murmurs, quietly, “Picture perfect snow. It looks like the opening to a Hallmark movie.”

“Or a horror movie,” you suggest instead, and Kuroo laughs. “A body, murdered in the study, with a blanket undisturbed fresh snow surrounding the isolated bed and breakfast.”

Kuroo, gleefully playing along, gasps, dramatically, “The murderer is one of the guests! Harrowing!”

“A real Agatha Christie.”

Kuroo laughs again. Not a polite laugh to ease the tension or to acknowledge the effort of the joke without condoning it either, but a full-blown, mirthy laugh, uncontained and a little on the side of  cackle-y.

With some of the tension in the air cleared by humor, you find it a little bit easily to ask the question. “Is there a… particular reason you’re out here alone, rather than warming up by the fireplace?”

Kuroo doesn’t answer immediately, just stares out into the white expanse for a couple more seconds. Finally, he asks, “Have you ever made a snowman?”

That definitely wasn't what you expected him to say, but you nod your head anyways. “When I was a kid. Have you not?”

“No,” he says, eyes still on the falling snow. “My sister’s a lot older, so she never wanted to do stuff like that with me, and Kenma… well, Kenma doesn’t like going outside.”

“This Kenma sounds like a smart person.”

“He is,” Kuroo agrees, wholeheartedly. “Smarter than me at least.”

And there it is again, that flash of just a little bit of sadness, a little bit of gloom in the corner of his eye. Kuroo’s frowning, not with his lips, which are still in a polite narrow smile, but with his eyes, and the expression makes you frown.

It’s the holidays! Your guests can’t be sad! What kind of host would you be if you let him mope around about a missed childhood?

“Well,” you say, before you can think otherwise, “Do you want to build a snowman?”

Kuroo laughs, but quickly realizes that you  aren’t  laughing  , and he gapes at you. “Oh, you were serious!”

You shrug. “Why not?”

“Because,” Kuroo starts, but it takes him a second to figure out an actual excuse. “Don’t you have things to do?”

“I just have to cook dinner. That gives us a couple hours to act like children again.”

Kuroo frowns, for real this time, and you can see the gears grinding in his brain, as he thinks, processes, argues between the two options. It’s a painfully long process, and your fingers twitch with anticipation at his response. 

“Let’s do it,” Kuroo finally says, and you see that little frown break out into a full-fledged grin, one so infectious that you feel  yourself starting to grin and then both of you are bounding as quickly as you can down the porch stairs without slipping on the ice, giggling as you start to gather the snow.

It’s been a while since you’ve done this, to say the least, so it takes a few minutes to re-acquaint yourself with the snow. Forming a little ball of snow in your gloved hands, you slowly start to roll it, gathering more and more of the white powder.

Kuroo is a quick learner, apparently, because after only a few minutes of watching you work, he’s started on his own, talking as he works.

It’s a little bit of a struggle to keep a conversation going, as most of your brain is focused on making the best snowman body ever and trying to ignore the cold biting into your nose and cheeks, but the both of you make it work.

Gradually, you learn about him. You learn that he’s a sports promoter that used to play volleyball, and his childhood best friend’s name is Kenma. You learn his favorite food is fish and he wanted to be a doctor until his first year of college when he switched majors, and you learn the reason why he’s spending the holidays alone at a bed and breakfast, hundreds of miles away from Tokyo.

“My family went on vacation abroad,” he says, as he leans against his sizable snowball, taking a much needed rest from your hard work. “I couldn’t go because of work, and Kenma is visiting his friend in Rio.” He shrugs, trying to appear more nonchalant about it than he clearly feels. “I didn’t want to intrude on the holidays of any of my other friends and their families.”

“I’m sure they wouldn’t see it as intruding,” you say, gently. “But, of course, you’re welcome to spend them here instead, if you would like. It’s probably not preferable to family or friends, but…”

“Who says spending the holidays with you isn’t preferable?” Kuroo asks, with a grin that makes your heart skip a beat.

What was that about a Hallmark movie?

Your snowman is done much quicker than you expected. Much quicker than you liked.

Kuroo, before you can even offer, assembles the snowman for you, grunting and heaving as he places his artfully-crafted snowball head on the torso. It’s a little crooked, and, in all honesty, a little pathetic, but you both smile at it.

“Wait,” you say, remembering the bag of carrots in the back of the vegetable drawer. “I’ll be right back.”

You’re certain that you’re tracking snow through the house, but it's fine, you’ll mop later.  This is more important right now. In just a few moments, you have a carrot clutched in your hands, and you skid to a pause in front of the coat closet by the front door. Thankfully, you find a forgotten scarf from two seasons ago, and the hat you keep in there just in case of an emergency bad hair day, and bound down the porch steps towards Kuroo.

“Ta-da!” you announce, raising the accessories (and one carrot) like a hard-won trophy. “Would you like to do the honors?”

With you bracing the back of the head, Kuroo gladly sticks in the makeshift nose, and both of you are full-on giggling as you put on the hat and wrap the scarf around the snowman’s nonexistent neck.

You step back together, simultaneously, admiring your collective handiwork. Kuroo snaps a picture.

“He’s beautiful,” you say.

“Truly a masterpiece,” Kuroo agrees. "Who knew that the two of us could make such a beautiful son?"

You glance over at him, and he glances over to you, and then both of you are laughing again, laughing so hard your stomach hurts and you're wheezing, and just as you have the brief passing thought that you can’t remember the last time a single person has made you laugh this much in a couple hours, Kuroo’s phone rings.

He stops laughing, but still smiles when he reads the caller ID, sending an apologetic glance your way as he answers the phone.

“Hey Kenma,” he says into the phone. “Did you like the snowman? Well, that’s not very nice. We worked hard on him, you know.”

You snicker, which makes him snicker, but the expression fades as he listens to the voice on the other end of the phone.

“Yeah, I’m done with work for now, but I have to be back in Tokyo on the first. No, no, save your money. Okay,  show-off . Truly Kenma, I’m okay here. Have fun with Shoyou.”

Kenma, on the other line, says something, but it's quiet and unintelligible. Kuroo cheeks, already flushed from the cold wind, blush a little more.

“I’m hanging up now,” Kuroo says. “Don't forget to get me a souvenir."

Kuroo laughs at something to quiet for you to hear, and hangs up, tucking his phone back into his pocket.

“You're not going to Rio too?”

“Nah,” Kuroo says, shrugging nonchalantly. You note, with a little satisfaction, that sad look in his eyes is gone, replaced with a bright grin. “I think I’ll be plenty at home here.”

Happy Hanukkah!! Thanks for reading, I hope yall have a great week. See you on 12/15 for Kiyoko's!

[giftrebornphoenix]

#TimeGoesOn

It’s been four years since I gave birth to Aingeal. Four incredible years that have been spent bonding and loving her bright smile. Many times the thought of Morrigan coming and taking her from me threatens to break me. Every first of hers, I have witnessed. The first time she rolled over from her back to her cute little tummy had me laughing and smiling. The first time she crawled, I learned to make sure everywhere in this house was baby proof. When she started to walk, I wanted to cry. She advanced so quickly that at times, I wondered what Morrigan had in store for her. She was such a sweet child. Her smile would melt any cold heart. Her laugh would make the birds sing. She would befriend many things from humans, to creatures and even the dreadful midwife. As another year would pass, I would cling tighter to her while my heart grew heavier and heavier. She had quickly become my world and I knew sooner my world would come crashing down. Just last year, she learned how to speak properly and I feared Morrigan would come. But the year came and passed. Now here is our fourth year preparing for the winter solstice and Yule. It was fast approaching and Aingeal loved the decorations. This year we were making homemade ornaments for our yule tree that I had secured for us. We would be decorating it in the next few days. Mistletoe and holly hung throughout the house as a sign of healing and protection. We created our Evergreen wreath yesterday with pinecones and berries intertwined through it. We hung it on the door before we went to sleep. I had created the Yule altar earlier in the month and it currently sat on our mantle next to the stockings that were hung with love. Each year our traditions seemed to grow. Aingeal called out to me and it broke me from my thoughts. As I moved to the living room, where she was currently coloring, I felt his presence. It’s been years since he visited and I still remember it like it was yesterday. The way he made my body react to him. I shook off the feeling as there was no way he could be here. We had moved since I gave birth and I gave no one notice as to why. I noticed the snow had started to fall as I entered the room. Aingeal sat there at her art table and gave me a toothy grin. She lost it yesterday and it was just another reminder that she was growing older.

“Yes my sweet girl?” I smiled at the way she shook her head at me but the smile on her face brightened my heart.

“Mama, the snow is falling. Can we go outside and make snowmen?”

I smiled at her question. It was one of her favorite things to do when the snow first started to fall. I nodded at her as she jumped up with a smile. I watched as she ran up the stairs to get her jacket and that same feeling of knowing my time with her was limited hit me. It was the main reason I was determined every year to just enjoy the moments with her. She didn’t need to see the darkness that threatened to take me each time I was reminded of what would come. When she finally came back downstairs all bundled up, I opened the door and out she went. Laughing with a shake of my head, I followed her outside and proceeded to spend the afternoon making a snowman family, having a snowball fight, and then we made snow angels. It was an afternoon well spent with love and laughter.

It had been several hours later that we finally went back into the house. Aingeal sat in front of the fireplace to warm up and I made us a nice herbal soup to ward off the chill in our bones. It was a fun afternoon and much needed with all the excitement of Yule coming up. I needed a break from my thoughts and Aingeal needed a break from decorating. As I finished the soup, I called her to the table to eat. Dinner was a silent affair as Aingeal would rub her eyes every 3 minutes and say she wasn’t sleepy. My poor angel was tired to her bones but would fight it. We quickly finished so I could get her in the bath that I may or may not have added lavender to. She was on to me when she was getting her pajamas on.

“Mama, why did you do that? I wasn’t sleepy. I wanted to stay up and watch your hallmark movies with you?”

I laughed and tucked her into her cute little Frozen design bed. Each season we would change the design of her room, and for this season she wanted Frozen and Elsa everywhere. It didn’t bother me as it took very minimal magick to decorate. Her walls were painted white and blue with snowflakes falling down. The ceiling was made up of multiple scenes from the newer movie with the different spirits and Elsa. Her bed though was a little tricky in the design. A giant snowflake made up one half of the bed and it went to make the water horse whose name escapes me at the moment for the end. It took me several times to design it to get it right. All that mattered was that Aingeal loved it. She said the horse would protect her at night not the many enchantments or protection spells that I made sure were layered in her room over, under, in between each design.

She was asleep before I could even kiss her good night just like I knew she would be. Heading out of her room, I heard her small I love you mama and smiled.

“I love you more my sweet angel.” I barely closed the door and made sure to keep the hallway light on for her. She wasn’t afraid of the dark but I would rather be on the safe side then to hear her cry out at night in fear. Quietly, I made my way down the hall and into the living room. Turning on the tv to the Hallmark channel, I sat down on the couch and started to relax. The feeling of being watched hadn’t returned and I felt safe knowing he would never find me here.

Moans left my lips as I felt a hand at my breasts. They were still sensitive after so many years. I cried out when I felt a hand pinch and twist my nipple, my panties were instantly damp at such a movement. My eyes slowly opened and I realized I was on my bed. Before I could freak out or even ask how, I felt a hand slide down my stomach that was still pudgy a little after giving birth to Aingeal and slip into my pants.

“I told you my little one that I would return.”

That voice. I knew that voice. His hand slid across my hidden nub and my back arched in response. I could feel my body coming alive as his mouth moved to cover my nipple through my shirt. The wet suction along with the material scraping my nipple caused me to whimper out loud. My hands gripped the bed sheets as his fingers started to move faster against my nub. When his fingers slid inside my wet heat, my back arched off the bed which only pushed my breast more into his mouth. I could feel his answering groan as he bit down on my nipple and pulled back. He released me with a resounding pop while he continued to work magick inside my pussy. I felt him enter a second finger and nearly moaned at the slight pressure I felt. You would have never know I had a child but at the same time I never had sex before either. I felt my pants slide down along with my panties. Fear crept inside my bones. My eyes slid closed as I felt his frame settle between my thighs and his tongue gave me one long swipe. I tried to close my legs but it proved impossible as I was stopped by his broad shoulders.

“You taste even sweeter now my little one. Being a mother suits you. You have only grown more beautiful and more pure. Still no man has touched you except for me.”

I could feel his smirk as he spoke against me each breathe heating my pussy and causing my hips to jump. He gave me another lick before his fingers slid back inside. Moans left my lips as he started to move his hands and quickly my release was upon me. I bit my lip to keep silent so I didn’t wake Aingeal.

“That's it little one. Give me your pleasure.”

I felt him slide up my body and my legs wrapped around his waist. When I felt his lips touch mine, the taste of my arousal was so strong on his lips that I moaned into the kiss. My hands felt like they were tied to the bed when he broke the kiss. I felt my shirt sliding up, baring me before him.

“ So beautiful. So sweet. This is all mine. Do you understand me Anya Lise? YOU ARE MINE!”

I cried out when he thrusted his cock still covered by his jeans against me. He was hard and long from what I could feel and gods did I want to feel that. His mouth found my nipple again as he leaned down and took the other in his hand. Twisting and pinching my nipple while his mouth sucked and bit down on my other one. When he switched the cold air caused my nipples to harden further. My hips rocked against him, sending delicious twinges and heat through me. A second release was building just from his ministrations against my breasts. I could feel him grinding against me every time my hips moved. He was growing bigger and harder against me.

“Give me your pleasure little one. Let me hear you scream.”

I couldn’t hold back anymore as I felt him thrust against my one more time, his jeans rubbing against my sensitive nub when he bit down on my nipple and pinched the other one. My back arched off the bed as I screamed out my release and it felt as if I was shattering.

“Such a good girl, my little one. You are so beautiful when you cum. So precious.”

I whimpered when I felt his lips against mine one final time before I felt the air around us change. He was gone and I felt deeply saddened by that.

Jerking out of the dream, I realized I was still in the living room and the TV was still on Hallmark channel. My clothes were still on though my panties were soaked. After a look around, I let out a deep sigh at the fact that I was alone. My hands covered my face and I rubbed my eyes. I was more tired than I thought especially if I dreamed of him. Moving my hands away, I noticed on the coffee table a note and a long stem white rose. My heart stopped as I knew it was no dream. He had been here. Picking up the note, I gasped.

“ My sweet little one,

Once again you surprise me. You taste as sweet as the first day I tasted you. Soon we will meet properly. You will be mine no questions about that. Take care of our sweet girl and I promise all your questions will be answered soon.

Yours my little one.”

There was no name and it frustrated me more. I would not relax anymore this night especially after what happened. I moved to stand at the window and watched as the snow began to fall once more. Aingeal would be happy when she woke in the morning. And so the night passed until morning, I stood at the window and watched as far as my eyes could see the snow cover all around us.