#like I’m admittedly a grinch on the best of days

[allalrightagain]

I didn’t like email ads any more yesterday, but there’s something particularly dystopian about getting emails about getting in the holiday spirit with [x] product today

[annabethy]

under the mistletoe, watching the fire glow: day 1

Day 01/25 Days of Christmas: Charcter A ad Character B, sworn enemies, are chosen to prepare the company Christmas party,, percabeth

“Chase!”

Annabeth doesn’t bother hiding the sneer that forms across her face at the sound of their voice. As Percy slides in front of her, his face is all too bright and cheerful. Her eyes linger on his torso, covered in a green Christmas sweater with plastic ruffles hanging off of it that makes her want to throw up.

“Why the face?” Percy asks. He leans over onto the desk she’s standing behind, carelessly shoving aside her blueprints. She nearly smacks him as she watches the papers go flying. Annabeth’s pretty sure he has a degree in marine biology, so what he’s doing working for an architecture firm, she will never know.

“It’s because I have to look the devil reincarnate in the eyes,” she deadpans.

“Oh, that’s not nice.” Percy grins wider. “I prefer to be called the Grinch. Christmas festivities, and all that.”

“I have a few words I could call you,” she agrees. “The Grinch is generous.”

“So grumpy.” Percy’s fingers wander around her desk, plucking an ornament off of the company’s mini tree. “So I need to talk to you.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

“I’ll have you fired,” he threatens, but he doesn’t seem the slightest bit upset. Annabeth will never understand how he is able to keep such a calm façade when he’s around her. From the moment he walked into that office, she has hated the arrogance with which he walked, and she had no trouble making it known. There hadn’t been a specific starting point to their rivalry, but it was there, and it burned brighter than the North star.

“What do you want?”

“You see, I was talking to Chiron,” he starts, and the twinkle in his eye has her terrified, rightfully so. “And he mentioned that he’s not prepared for the company Christmas party. I was all oh yeah, I can help out, and he was like you should totally do it, and I was like oh, sure thing, but then, get this—”

Annabeth has an inkling as to where this is going.

“He says you have to help me.”

“Jackson.”

“Yes?”

“Would you like be murdered so close to Christmas? Never get to see your poor mother again?”

“I would not like that, no, but I hardly think you’re capable of homicide.”

“You’d be surprised what I’m capable of,” she says. “Something about Christmas transforms me into Rudolph with rabies. It’s bad.”

“You’re too cute,” he coos.

She is tempted to bite him, and she has to retrain herself from doing just that when he pokes her on the nose.

“Anyways, you don’t have a choice. He said you have to.”

“Why me? Why not literally any other employee here.”

“I have no idea,” he says. “I tried talking him out of it.”

Her eye twitches. “Why do I get the feeling that you didn’t?”

“You always get the feeling that I didn’t, or I did, or whatever the wrong choice is. You just have it out for me.”

She doesn’t think that’s necessarily true. She only points him out when he does something wrong, which is all the time. And sure, maybe she spends extra time pointedly looking for anything she can call him out for, but she likes to call that keeping him on edge. Someone had to keep this kid in check if he wasn’t going to himself.

“So once your shift is over, don’t leave. Meet me in the conference room on the third floor, West wing.” “I will not be meeting you there.”

“Yes, you will because Chiron says you have to.” He suddenly sets the ornament back onto the tree, ever so gently, and leans in close. She is too stubborn to move away so he ends up whispering in her ear, his warm breath tickling her. “You may not listen to me, but we all know that you’ll do whatever he says. So. Five o’clock. See you there.”

Annabeth promises herself throughout the rest of the day that she won’t go. She doesn’t always have to listen to her boss, and it’s not like he’d fire her or anything if she didn’t show — she worked too hard to get where she is, and he is well aware of the rivalry going on between them.

Still, as she walks down the hall to the conference room, she can’t say she’s surprised. Chiron has done so much for her, and if she has to succumb to a few hours of torture to make up for it, then that’s exactly what she’ll do.

As she enters the room, she is met with the sight of Percy in the middle of the room, surrounded by the largest assortment of rainbow lights and garland that she has ever seen in her entire life. For a moment, she forgets about the fact that she is forced to be here. Instead, she focuses on the sparkle and joy she can just feel in the room, and the smile of pure excitement that is on his face.

“Where did you get all of this?” she asks, stepping inside. She has to make her way over a few glass decorations splattered about, but she makes it without completely dying.

“I went shopping,” he says, gleeful. He picks a string of lights up, inspecting it closely before dropping it back down onto his lap. Annabeth sits near him, but still far away that he can’t ‘accidentally’ choke her with Christmas lights.

“You paid for all of this?”

“Stole the company card. Where do you think I’ve been all day?”

And it dawns on her that he really hasn’t been there for most of the day. It’s no wonder it had been so quiet; he hadn’t been pestering her every two seconds.

She hums. “So what am I supposed to do?”

“Desperate to leave?”

“With you here? Of course.”

Percy frowns but doesn’t say anything about it. “Just make this place look pretty.”

She tries her best, but it’s admittedly not very good. It kind of looks like Santa Claus and his elves threw a very messy tantrum. She stands next to Percy to inspect the final product. She can feel her ears tinging red.

“I don’t understand what happened here,” he says, baffled.

“I think my decorating skills were corrupted by your severe incompetence.” Percy smirks but turns to face her. “My severe incompetence?”

“Yes.”

“May I ask what I did this time?”

“What?”

“You’re always insulting me. Why?”

“Because—” She gestures vaguely. “You’re you.”

“I’m me?”

Her mind blanks. “Uh… ugly.”

Percy guffaws, but he doesn’t seem offended. “All this time I thought you hated me, but it’s actually because I’m ugly?” He whistles. “I don’t know whether to feel relieved or depressed.”

“Bit of both, perhaps.” Annabeth knows for a fact that her face is redder than the mistletoe along the edges of the room. Everything she could complain about and has complained about, and she says that he’s ugly? The one thing that he’s actually not? She may not like him, but even she can appreciate his sharp jawline and striking eyes.

“So if I were less ugly, you would stop calling me incompetent?”

“Exactly.”

“Ah.” Percy elbows her, and she squirms. “And here I was, thinking we were mortal enemies.”

“Oh, we are. I can’t be associated with ugly monsters.”

“Damn, Annabeth. Way to put salt in the wound.”

“You could always just insult me back.”

“Why would I do that?”

“You always do.”

At that, Percy faces her again, alarmed. “I do not.”

“Yes, you do!”

“I’m careful with my words. I may tease you, but I have never called you names.”

She tries to prove him wrong, but she suddenly can’t think of a single instance where he’s actually said something blatantly rude. It turns out she’s just a raging asshole.

“Call me ugly.”

Percy blinks. “What?”

“Now you made me feel bad, so say something mean. Make me cry. You have full permission.”

“I wouldn’t want to lie to you.”

It takes a second before she gathers what he’s saying, and she’s suddenly blushing from something entirely different than embarrassment. “You think I’m pretty?”

“I thought that was obvious.”

“I— no?”

Percy stares at her for what feels like an eternity. “I’ve been flirting with you since forever.”

She snorts. “I like to poke you on the nose and play with your hair. I wink at you, like, every day!”

“I thought you were just bullying me.”

“I’m sorry, but that does not qualify as bullying.”

“You made Chiron demand I decorate for a Christmas party.”

“Yeah, he never said that. He actually has no idea you’re here right now.”

“You did this!?”

“I wanted to spend time with you?” he tries in excuse.

“But we don’t like each other!”

“I thought we were always messing around. I didn’t know you actually despised me.”

She doesn’t know that she despises him. Strongly dislikes, maybe, but she doesn’t think she actually hates him. Now that she’s here, staring him in his green eyes, feeling like a kicked puppy is staring straight at her, she doesn’t know if she actually even disliked him, or was just too stuck to her pride to acknowledge that he wasn’t a terrible person.

“I don’t hate you.”

He sniffs. “Well now I don’t believe you.”

“Oh, you toddler.”

And somehow, Percy still smiles. She’ll never know how he keeps with the cheer. “So what I’m hearing is that we’re friends.”

Percy is too good for her. She insults him to his face and he just smiles through it. He doesn’t hesitate to reassure her, and now that she thinks of it, he never has. When she’s struggling to walk through the halls, Percy is always the first to help her carry her things, even when she hurls her nasty words his way. And the one time she was sick, he was the one to sit her down and drive her home. He’s always been so generous even when she doesn’t deserve it, and she doesn’t understand why she’s never seen it before.

It’s like something inside of her has shifted, like these few hours spent alone with him have suddenly erased everything she thought in the past. It makes sense, now that she realizes that the past was nothing more than an image she was too stubborn to replace.

“No?” Percy smiles. “I get it. You want to be my girlfriend.” She holds up a hand. “Wait a second—”  

“Even better! My wife!”

She chokes, laughing. She thinks this might be the first time she let herself genuinely smile at something he’s said. It’s a nice feeling. “Let’s start with friends.”

Percy steps forwards, towering over her. “Oh, I’m so going to make you my girlfriend.”

Annabeth wants to protest, but with the look that he’s giving her now, making her legs go weak, she thinks that it just might be possible in this Christmas magic.

“Guess what,” he whispers, now directly beside her.

She trembles, a foreign chill shooting down her back. “What?”

“Mistletoe.”

She looks up, expecting to find the small plant being held above her head, but instead she is met with the sound of Percy laughing. “Made you look.”

She laughs along with him, shoving his chest playfully. “This is why I hate you.”

“Except you don’t hate me,” he says, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her in for a side hug. “You love me.”

“Sure,” she says.

“So you should kiss me then. If you love me, and all.”

If it had been two hours earlier, she would’ve said not a chance, but something’s changed. She isn’t sure what it is or when exactly it had happened between then and now, but something seemed to click. It has her reaching onto her toes to press a sweet kiss to his cheek, right on the dimple that appears as his face morphs into the kindest, gentlest smile.

“There,” she says softly. “A kiss.”

Percy bites his lower lip and shakes his head. There is a look on his face — adoration, she thinks. A voice whispers love. “I’m going to make you fall in love with me, Annabeth Chase.”

It doesn’t take long at all.

[wrenhyperfixates]

How the God Stole Christmas

Pairing: Loki x reader Summary: Loki despises Christmas, and after watching the Grinch, he decides there’s only one thing to do about it. But you just might melt his cold heart. Warnings: zip, zilch, zero A/N:  So this is my little spoof of the original and best Grinch, starring Loki. Hope you all enjoy :)

Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiant​​ @lunarmoon8​ @twhiddlestonsstuff​ @lokistan​ @thelokiimaginechroniclesficrecs​ @gaitwae​ @whatafuckingdumbass​

Disclaimer: Gif not mine 

Red and green everywhere, the same songs playing in every single store, silly little decorations in every nook and cranny. Yup, it was official. Loki hated Christmas. He couldn’t even place his finger on why, exactly; he just did. So, naturally, this was his least favorite time of year. Sadly, none of his teammates seemed to share that sentiment.

Loki walked into the common room only to hear the same carol that was playing in the last shop he’d visited. He gritted his teeth against the sound of his brother signing along. The Tower was just as heavily decorated as the rest of the city. If there was a Christmas-field version of something, you could bet one of the Avengers had bought it. And if they hadn’t, it was just a matter of time.

At least the sweets constantly being baked weren’t entirely despicable. Though, admittedly, even his notorious sweet tooth was getting a little sick of them. Right now, he could smell the aroma of gingerbread wafting from the oven. It made him consider skipping the cup of tea he was currently on his way to get, but he knew he needed it if he had any chance of calming down. He was glad he’d decided to go to the kitchen after all when he saw you were the one baking, flour smeared on your apron and face in an adorable mess.

The poor God of Mischief was still rather isolated from everyone else. He was trying, but by the time any of the Avengers had gotten over his past wrongdoings, he was sour towards all of them. It was hard to want to be friends with people who spent the first six months of his living in the Tower scorning him. It was also hard to call a place like that home. There had been one shining beacon of beautiful light during those early days: you.

“Hello, darling,” he greeted, heating up the water for his cup. “Those cookies smell divine.”

“Oh! Hi Loki,” you exclaimed, turning around, not having heard him enter. “And thanks. Do you want to help us decorate?”

“That depends on who exactly ‘us’ is.”

“The whole team.” He made a small hum of acknowledgement and blew on his scalding drink. You frowned a little, knowing full well that he distanced himself because of how they used to treat him. But you also knew they wanted to change things, they just weren’t entirely sure how. “It could be a great bonding opportunity. Plus, I’ll be there, obviously, but so will Peter and Bucky. Doesn’t it sound fun?”

Besides you, the trickster god found some companionship in the two aforementioned Avengers. They’d come after Loki had, and Peter’s endless optimism had won him over. As for Bucky, he had gone through much the same that Loki had, their common pasts bonding them quickly. Unfortunately, all his friends loved this despicable holiday.

“Perhaps another time,” he finally replied. “Next year.”

“Ok,” you sighed. “You’ll at least watch movies with us tonight, right?”

“I do not know. Perhaps it would be better if I did not.”

“Please,” you pouted. “Come on, it’s Christmas Eve. I’ll even save a special cookie for you.”

“Your persistence is as relentless as it is adorable,” he laughed. “I will come, but just for a movie or two. Deal?”

“Deal!” you squealed. “You won’t regret it. Oh! And, Loki, come here.”

You wrapped your arms around him, holding him in a tight embrace. It surprised him, to say the least. He still wasn’t entirely used to such signs of affection, but they were welcome, especially from you. However, he never was quite sure how to respond. After a second, he somewhat awkwardly wrapped his arms around you to return the hug.

“What was that for?” he questioned as you pulled back.

“You just seemed like you needed one,” you shrugged.

The joy that that gave him lasted all the way into the evening when it was time for him to join you for a movie, as promised. He’d put it off as long as he could, even considering just skipping and saying he’d fallen asleep. That would upset you, though, and you were the one person he hated to lie to. So, he made his way to the common room where a new movie was just starting. You scooted over a little on the couch so he could squeeze in between you and Peter. Bucky was sitting on the floor close by, and Loki had no doubt you’d specifically requested they be in those positions so he felt more comfortable. He was greeted with a few polite—dare he say, borderline friendly—nods and waves from a few of his other teammates. And, of course, an overly enthusiastic pat on the back from his brother as he passed.

“Loki! Glad you could make it,” you whispered as he plopped down next to you.

“Well, a deal is a deal, darling.”

“That reminds me, here’s your cookie.”

The little gingerbread man you handed him was decorated to look like him in his Asgardian battle armor. It was a wonderful likeness, all things considered. He smiled as he took a bite of the baked good. He tried to let go of all hate for the season as he relished this moment with you, but it was still lingering there.

“It is delicious, thank you.”

“No problem. I’m glad you liked it.”

You quieted down as the movie began and the opening credits played. Loki was already losing interest, and then the title appeared. How the Grinch Stole Christmas. A most intriguing title, he mused. Now that his interest was peaked, he watched with rapt attention as the animated film began. That grumpy, green fellow was possibly the best protagonist in any movie he’d been made to watch yet. He certainly had the right idea about Christmas. And those tiny little voices would have annoyed Loki to no end. It really was no different than what he was going through now, he realized. He thought it rather rude to call the Grinch “mean” though. It seemed to Loki he was just misunderstood.  

As he watched the Grinch load up all the wreathes and toys into his sleigh, Loki was struck with an idea. Why should he not be able to do the same thing? Ok, maybe he couldn’t get away with stealing from the whole city, but what about the Tower? It was his home, too, and no one had asked him how he felt about all this stuff.

Now that he had a master plan blossoming in his head, he didn’t much care to see the end of the movie. He’d gotten everything he needed out of it. So, he went up to get a refill on his drink. By the time he go back, it was over.

“You missed the ending,” Peter said. “Do you want us to go back?”

“No, it is fine. I thought it was perfect just the way it was.”

“But all you saw was him stealing Christmas?”

“Exactly.”

“Should I be worried?”

“No. In fact, I could use your help.”

Before Peter could ask with what, everyone was getting up and leaving the room, ready to call it a night. You fretted over the fact that he’d only gotten to see one movie, but he assured you it was alright. The matter wasn’t dropped until he promised to watch at least one more tomorrow, too. It didn’t make much difference to him though, considering that after he was through with the Tower, he was sure no one would be much in the mood for Christmas movies, anyway.

“You’re planning something,” Bucky said before exiting.

“Maybe. Are you looking to assist?”

“Probably not. But good luck.”

“Fair enough. Goodnight.”

“Yeah, goodnight, Loki,” Peter said as he tried to hurry off after Bucky.

“Spiderling, may I enlist your help?” Loki asked.

“I, uh, yeah, I guess. What are friends for?”

“Excellent!” Loki exclaimed as the rest of the Avengers finished filing out.

The more he explained the plan, the more nervous Peter became. It did give Loki a bit of a pause, but oh, it sounded like great fun! For weeks on end now, he’d been suffering through this horrid season. It was just a little payback to the universe. That was fair, right? Maybe, but it was not fair to force his friend to help him.

“Listen, spiderling, if you do not wish to help, you do not have to,” Loki said.

“This is going to make you happy, right? Like, is this going to make your Christmas?”

“Quite honestly, I think it will.”

Peter considered for a moment, weighing the pros and cons of this situation. “Ok, I’ll help. On one condition. We leave everyone’s rooms as they are. We’ll just clean out the common areas.”

“That is quite reasonable. Thank you, spiderling.”

The duo got to work, stuffing all the little decorations in their sacks. Peter insisted that if they were going to do this, they had to do it right, and fetched a reindeer antler headband for himself and a Santa hat for Loki. While it was on the one hand entirely ridiculous, it did give Loki a bit of a laugh at the implication of it. Him as the Grinch and Peter as Max, his reluctant but loyal ally. The thought made him smile a little.

Everything was going great until they got to the first of the many large trees in the Tower. Loki stood there with a cocked head, tapping his chin. Sure, he could try to do it like the Grinch had, but life wasn’t a cartoon. So, no, that would pose more of a problem than a solution. Besides, Loki had something the Grinch didn’t. Magic. Carefully working his seiðr, the god shrunk down the first pine, ornaments and all, and put it in one of the bags.

A little while later, he was getting ready to do the same thing to one of the last remaining trees. Then you came stumbling out into the room. Peter did a little panicked dance before slinging a web and sticking himself to the ceiling. Loki walked up to you and laid his hands on your shoulder, trying to determine how conscious you actually were.

“Loki?” you asked, rubbing your eyes, your voice a little slurred from sleep. “What’re you doing? Where’re all the decorations?”

“You tell me. It is your dream,” he quickly lied.

“My dream,” you parroted spotting the filled sack on the ground near his feet “So is this because we watched the Grinch? Does that make me Cindy Lou Who?”

“I suppose it does, darling,” he laughed. “Why don’t you go back to bed?”

“Are you going to put everything thing back, Loki Claus?”

This time the chuckle came from Peter, who was watching the whole thing play out from his vantage point. You were too out of it to notice, though. Instead, you kept looking at Loki with those adorable doe eyes.

“I... Perhaps. Let us just get you back to your room right now, ok?”

You nodded, and he picked up your tired body, using his godly strength to carry you bridal style and lay you down amongst your many blankets and pillows. You gently tugged him down onto the mattress with you, and he remained there for a moment, not exactly sure of what was happening.

“Do you need to talk?” you questioned, cupping his cheeks and seeming a bit more awake than you a had a second ago. “I know things are hard, but we all do really care for you. I really care for you. And I’m here for you. You know that, right?”

“I know. I will be alright, darling. Just get a good night’s sleep for me, hmm?”

“Ok,” you sighed as he got up. “Night, Loki.”

“Goodnight, darling,” he whispered as he leaned over to give your head a small kiss.

He walked back out to his partner in crime, who was anxiously awaiting him. Loki let out a huff. He knew what the right thing to do now was.

“So?” Peter asked.

“Let’s put it all back,” Loki conceded.

And so they did. It took most of the night, but they got every last knickknack and ornament into place. Then Loki did something he never imagined he would; he added even more. His magic made the garlands a little bit fuller, the lights a little bit brighter, and the trees a little bit taller. More little statues and winter scenes appeared on nearly every surface possible. Finally, he nearly doubled the number of gifts under the tree, adding his own to the mix. He gave a satisfied little nod when he was done, then looked at Peter who was beaming at him.

“What is it?” Loki inquired, though he knew the answer deep down.

“Oh, nothing. This was fun, though. We should do this every year,” Peter yawned as they worked their way to their rooms to catch a couple hours of sleep.

“Maybe we will, spiderling. Maybe we will.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Loki woke up the next morning slightly more cheerful than he had in months. Ironic, considering today was actually Christmas, the culmination of the season he hated so much. Swinging his legs over the side of his bed and stretching out, Loki realized maybe he really was like the Grinch, and the only reason he disliked it so much was because he was so alone. And, like the Grinch, maybe he wasn’t appreciating those he did have enough. Maybe it was time to come out of his mountain cave and live amongst the people in town.

He eyed his Santa hat from last night, hanging from a bedpost. He picked it up and put it on his head, laughing a little in the mirror. He tugged on a deep green cable-knit sweater before he remembered the rest of the team’s plan to wear ugly sweaters today. He wasn’t sure what had gotten into him exactly, but he conjured one up for himself. It was a little ridiculous, but he supposed that was the whole point.

Heading out into the hall, he realized everything was dead silent. Loki wondered for a second if maybe you all had decided to go out for breakfast this morning. He sighed, but he couldn’t really hold it against any of you if you hadn’t invited him. He never said yes on a normal day, and he’d made it a point just how much he disliked Christmas. Regardless, he made his way to the kitchen.

“Merry Christmas!”

He nearly pulled out a dagger as everyone suddenly jumped out in front of him and shouted those words. Once his heart rate slowed back down to normal, he smiled despite himself. That’s when he noticed plates piled high with his favorite foods and realized you’d all must have gotten up early to do this for him.

“Merry Christmas, everyone. What is all this?”

“We just wanted to do something for you, Loki,” you explained. “Oh! And we got you a gift. Here.”

You handed him a small package wrapped in green and gold. It must have been convenient that his colors were also colors for the holiday. He laughed a little to himself, wondering how he hadn’t noticed before. He tore into the wrapping paper to find a small planner. You nodded at him, urging him on as he gave you a quizzical look. It had a bunch of events written in it, as well as which members of the team were attending.

“See, we know you don’t always come to our team events,” Bucky told him, “but we know you might want to start.”

“We have not always been the most... accepting,” Thor added. “Now, though, we want you to be able to come to any and everything you want to.”

“So we wrote it all down for you,” Peter finished. “This way, you know when things are and can just join whenever you feel like it.”

“Do you like it?” you nervously asked, biting your lip.

“Darling, it’s perfect,” he sincerely told you, tears of gratitude welling in his eyes. “Thank you. All of you.”

He was met with a chorus of “you’re welcomes” and “anytimes” as the room was filled with even more smiles. Soon, everyone dug into the feast that had been prepared, and the rest of the day was filled with merriment and laughter. Loki was surprised to see there were even more gifts for him resting under the tree. By the time it was dark out, the team was settling in to watch a few final Christmas movies for the season. Loki didn’t think he’d be taking any ideas from them tonight.

“Darling,” he said as the two of you were alone, grabbing movie snacks in the kitchen. “May I ask you why you all did what you did for me?”

“It’s like we said, Loki. We all do care about you, and we want you to be able to do stuff with us. They know you’re not a bad guy, you’ve more than proven that. For a long time they just weren’t exactly sure how to bridge the gap. But you’re a part of the team, and we want you to feel like it.”

“Thank you. You have no idea how much that means to me.”

“It’s no problem, Loki. Plus, you really did go all out with these extra decorations.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he blushed.

“Oh?” you said, walking up to him so that you bodies were nearly pressed together. “You don’t now, huh Loki Claus?”

Of course you hadn’t bought his lie last night. He laughed a little to himself now for thinking you had. But Loki realized something else, too. What you’d done last night, what you’d said, you’d fully known what you were doing. The way you’d pulled him onto the bed and held his face, told him how you cared. You knew it was real.

“Darling,” he said. “I think I do need to talk, after all.”

“I’m listening. What is it?”

“I love you.”

You pulled him in for a kiss, and he reciprocated immediately, smiling against your lips. Now he was wondering if he was dreaming. But no, just like last night, this was real.

“In case it wasn’t obvious,” you said, catching your breath, “I love you too.”

Hand in hand, you went to join the rest of the team. So maybe Loki’s heart didn’t literally grow three sizes that day, but there was one more comparison to be drawn. Because, you see, in finding his place, Loki realized that Christmas wasn’t so bad after all.

[karasimpno]

{Day 25} Being Alive | Kuroo x Reader

Pairing: Kuroo Tetsurou x gn!reader

Genre: Christmas fluff FOR my life my love my light my hero @bluntkingkuroo​!! Grinchy Kuroo being transformed by the magic of Christmas (and you)

WC: ~2k

Warnings: none just sap:)

⍋⋆*❅｡. 25 days of fic-mas mlist .｡❅*⋆⍋

Someone to crowd you with love, someone to force you to care. Someone to make you come through who'll always be there, as frightened as you of being alive — Being Alive; Company (music & lyrics by Stephen Sondheim)

Kuroo Tetsurou hadn’t had a real Christmas in years.

In fact, it had become one of his least favorite holidays - until he met you. Invariably, he would always get called into the office late Christmas Eve to sort out some last-minute fiasco, making him work through the following morning to be ready for work’s opening the next day. His Christmases were only ever quiet, disappointing, and frankly, dismal. It was never like the Christmases when he was a kid. He didn’t think he’d ever have those child-like Christmases again.

But that was before you.

You’d gotten together at a New Year’s party two years ago. Ever the rumored player, Kuroo had never actually had much luck with dating, and had all but given it up. But your sly looks and cheeky texts lured him in and he stuck his neck out one last time to invite you to a New Year’s party, which ended up being one of the best worst decisions of his life. The two of you spent that year on and off the phone, seeing each other whenever possible, and falling in love. You became his biggest support and his most savage tormenter. By the time Christmas rolled around, you convinced him to let you spend it with him, reluctant though he was. Kuroo had so many reasons for not getting his hopes up for Christmases anymore, but not one good reason for blowing it off—and you were determined to fix that.

Waking up with you in his arms, making breakfast together and opening presents that you’d thoughtfully picked out for him, seeing the joy on your face when you opened his, he began to feel the spark of what he once felt for Christmas.

“You know me too well,” he murmured in a kiss against your hair, thanking you for the vinyl he had only mentioned once in passing but that you knew he really wanted.

“Yes I do,” you smirked playfully at him, pulling him up short as you pecked him on the cheek. The two of you dissolved into giggles as you spent the rest of the day lounging around and relentlessly teasing each other.

This year, Kuroo simply couldn’t get enough of you. For once he was proud he could admit that he was falling more and more in love with someone every day, and you knew if you played your cards right, you might actually get him to have a proper Christmas.

Sure enough, you lured him right into a casual conversation about his vacation days, and he flippantly said that he had plenty left in the year.

“So why don’t you use them to come home with me for Christmas?” you asked pointedly.

Kuroo gulped. “You mean, like with your family?” he asked.

You had him cornered. Now that he’d admitted he had the vacation days, he really had no argument against you. You laid the final trap, slinking over to the armchair where he was relaxing and slipping into his lap, giving his hair a little tousle and giving him your best “innocent” look.

“Yeah! You’ve already met them on FaceTime and just think how much more fun Christmas would be if you could away for a bit without worrying about work!” you said cheerfully. “Pleaaaase?” you mock-pouted with raised eyebrows.

And that was how Kuroo Tetsurou finds himself in your childhood kitchen.

He’s standing over a mixing bowl, a smudge of flour on his nose as you lay parchment paper on a cooking sheet. You grin, reaching across the distance that separated you, swiping a thumb at his nose to dust off the flour as he dumps the dough out of the bowl. The gesture pulls your right hip to his left and you attempt to hide your smile. You couldn’t believe he was finally here, warm and cozy in your kitchen, making cookies with you while you played Christmas music in the background. Maybe you’d turn this capitalist grinch into a holiday sap after all.

Unable to keep your hands off him, you squeeze his side as you slip past him to pull the rolling pin out of the drawer on the opposite side of him, handing it to him lazily. Kneading out the dough, he shoots you a sidelong smirk.

“What, you want me to roll it out too?” he asks. “Am I supposed to cook Christmas dinner too?”

“You make the dough—which includes rolling it out—and I make them look pretty when we decorate! Where’s the problem?” you tease with a barely-concealed smile.

“Problem is, my hands are full,” he sighs playfully as though explaining Tiny Tim’s tragic fate. You hum thoughtfully. Your lighthearted teasing was one of your favorite parts of your relationship.

“Well after you’re done kneading, I’ll need you to roll it out!” you jab at him. It’s a terrible pun and you know it so you play up the ridiculousness of it, making it clear that you were the funny part of the joke, not the joke itself.

“You need me too much,” he mutters with a smile, leaning forward to plant a kiss on your forehead, the dough still turning over in his hands. You beam up at him, planting your elbows on the countertop as you watch him work.

Cheekily, you sneak a pinch of the cookie dough from the batch and pop it in your mouth. Its sugary deliciousness fills your mouth and you can’t wait until they’re out of the oven so you can decorate them.

“Hey, you know you’re not supposed to eat raw eggs, right? Could give you salmonella,” Kuroo points out in his annoying dad tone.

“Oh yeah?” you challenge. “How come I’ve done it every year since I was a kid then and I’m still fine?” you ask as you pinch off another piece. Kuroo purses his lips together at your sass, opting to pivot and tease you in a new way.

“Oh hey you’ve got some flou—” Kuroo can’t even get his silly attempt at a come-on line all the way out before claiming your mouth in a quick, hot kiss. His lips are soft and sweet sliding against your lip gloss as he deftly slips his hand over the rolling pin, smoothly pulling it out of your grasp in your moment of being caught off guard. But you quickly regain your mental footing, which allows you tug him back against you by his shirt when he tries to break away too soon, deepening the kiss. When he’s finally able to pull away, a little shorter of breath, he smirks at you, dusting the rolling pin with flour and beginning to roll out the dough. 

“Well I guess you’ve just been spared by the salmonella then, hm?” he says with all the stupid confidence in the world.

You shoot him the most incredulous look, then outright snort at his terrible, terrible return of banter.

“Oh spared by the salmonella, hm? Yeah nice one,” you jab, openly laughing now at how he can simultaneously so cocky and so stupid at the same time.

“Hey!” he says in a fake pout, “Don’t mock me with your praise,” he exhales in a huff out of his nose as your laughing subsides. He considers terrorizing you for how bad your kneading/needing pun was but decides to let it go, admittedly just a little smitten at seeing you smile like that. You wrap your arms around his back, chin just barely able to hook over his shoulder, and any thought of teasing you dissipates completely. You can feel his lats flexing gently against your chest as he pulls the rolling pin back and pushes it forward to flatten the dough again and again.

Suddenly, even more so than in the kiss, you are overwhelmed by his scent—his clean soap and daily cologne that he insists on wearing, even on holidays—and you sway gently behind him, quieted a little at the overwhelming feeling of bliss as your arms are filled with the man you love. You find yourself pressing a sweet kiss to the back of his shoulder.

Kuroo feels his breath hiccup in his chest at the intimate gesture and resists the nearly overwhelming impulse to drop the rolling pin and place his hands over yours where they lay crossed over his stomach—he knows you’d tease him relentlessly if he melted so easily into your touch. In spite of all his lonely Christmases, in spite of how he never pictured himself in love like this, in spite of being terrified of letting someone in like this, his heart pounds unforgivingly in his chest. He bites his lips together as he works the dough, letting the squeak of the rolling pin be the only sound either of you makes.

The sultry tones of the Carpenters echo through the kitchen as the bridge of “Merry Christmas, Darling,” reaches a crescendo and Kuroo feels you sigh against him. Your warm breath on his skin makes something within him pop, and the rolling pin freezes in its place as one of his arms comes up and over you, coming to rest on your back as Kuroo turns in your arms quickly. In the blink of an eye, you find yourself leaning against his chest now as he rests against the countertop.

“Hi,” you smile.

“Hi,” he whispers back gently, his golden eyes ablaze as he ever-so-gingerly tucks a curl behind your ear. There is a moment where he doesn’t know what to say, his heart filled with some emotion he can’t describe, feeling like it might expand right out of his chest.

“You weren’t holding me close enough,” his voice is barely even a whisper. You pull your head back a little at his words, trying to look at him more closely. You swallow and slide your hands up and around his neck.

“How’s this?” you whisper gently, snuggling your body even closer against him. He just hums, an involuntary half-smile that was part pensive and part pleasure stretching across his lips.

“I love you,” he says simply, his voice full of emotion as he moves one of his hands to cup your face, thumb stroking your cheekbone softly. You bring one of your hands down to press against the back of his palm, holding it in place. Kuroo never thought he could love someone so much, never dreamed someone could make him feel so much just from spending time with you, someone who made him so aware of being alive. Just existing in your arms was the best Christmas present he could ever ask for.

“I know,” you smile. You press up on your tiptoes and ever so slowly let your lips ghost against his, just the barest whisper of a kiss. Kuroo’s brows draw together with emotion at the shocking passion of such a feathery light touch, his heart overwhelmed with love. Holding back a shudder, he allows himself just to be loved by you. He is completely and utterly yours.

“I love you too,” you breathe as you pull no more than a few centimeters away from his lips. “But don’t think you can get out of rolling the dough now,” you wink, turning the mood playful again as you plant a quick peck on his nose.

Kuroo lets out a comically hideous laugh, his chest shuddering against yours before returning the favor with a kiss to your nose. You shriek as his arms tighten around you, lifting you off the floor and spinning you around, protesting as he seats you up on the countertop.

“Whatever you say,” he teases with a grin, unable to resist pecking you on the cheek again before returning to the dough.

A/n: I’m sobbing. I legit was all gung ho to do the third prompt you gave me bc you were right that DID inspire creativity but then I was like how cute is like getting messy in the kitchen and kissing the flour off each other’s faces....and tHEN YOU SENT ME THAT KUROO AS BOBBY BRAINROT AND IT WAS JUST TOO PERFECT.....So yes merry Christmas to you I adore you. This was fun bc I took it a little more out of context of Company and was like OH not only does he feel that way about love but also Christmas and when you combine the two? Wow this man is SO WHIPPED FOR YOU. I feel like most of my a/ns are just me going “wow this song really wrecks me” but...yeah. This song really wrecks me

THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR JOINING US ON THIS MUSICAL HAIKYUU CHRISTMAS TRAIN!!! These were truly such a delight to write and gave me something to like.....look forward to during the end of my first semester of law school (rip to me still). You guys are seriously the best you make it all worth it.

taglist: @slutawara​ @musicgetsmeoutofbed​ @azo-musxas​ @tsumurai​ @ghostlydiamond135 @animeboysimppp​ @honeybunny-sawamura​ @harokat

[skullrock]

the first christmas

12 days of Christmas fics, day 7 - the first christmas

pairing: Joyce x Hopper

summary: It’s Eleven’s first Christmas, and Joyce and Hopper make it everything she ever wanted it to be, while kindling their own romance.

word count: 2.5k

warnings: none!

a/n: I think I am rly bad at writing jopper but I did my best <3 hope u enjoy! 

“Do you know what Christmas is?”

El shakes her head timidly, and Hopper lets out a deep sigh. Of course they never let her celebrate Christmas.

“What… is… Christmas?”

Hopper doesn’t know what to say. He tries to think back to what he had told Sarah when she was growing up, but nothing really comes to mind. He’s pretty sure Sarah just understood it  since she’d grown up with it. “Uh… it’s a celebration that we have every December to celebrate the birth….” Does El really need to know who Jesus Christ is? Does Hopper even know? “Of some guy that a lot of people… care about.”

“Like a birthday?”

“Yeah, except a lot of people celebrate.”

El nods. “What do we do?”

Hopper thinks the best way to show her is to have her watch some Christmas movies, hence why they were set up by the TV. “Here, you’ll get the hang of it.”

He almost showed her It’s a Wonderful Life, but Joyce vehemently protested, insisting on showing El Miracle on 34th Street first. Joyce said it was the best way to show El the meaning of Christmas, even if Hopper didn’t necessarily want El to believe in Santa. Hop trusted Joyce with his life, so he agreed, but he’s pretty sure it was the wrong call.

“Who is that?”

“That’s Santa.”

A long pause. “What does he do?”

Shit. “He’s the… person- he’s the image of Christmas. He brings gifts and makes sure everyone is being nice to each other.” He shakes his head at himself, but El seems to get it. She gets the present thing and the spirit of Christmas pretty well, but the legal proceedings weren’t helpful.

“Why don’t they think he’s real?” she asks quietly.

“Well, the guy is real, but people don’t think Santa is.”

“Is he?”

Jesus Christ. “Santa is a frame of mind. He might not be a real… person, but the message is there.”

El looks at him with furrowed brows, so he tries to elaborate.

“Santa… is Santa. He’s…. He brings people joy. So… if he’s not real, joy is still a thing.”

“Joyce?”

“No, not Joyce,” he laughs. “Joy. Happiness.”

“Oh.” She looks back to the TV. “Why isn’t it colored?”

“Old movies were in black and white.”

“Why?”

Sometimes Hopper hated being a dad, but only because he could not explain things very well. Not as well as Joyce could, anyway. He wishes she were here right now - not just to answer El’s questions, but because, quite frankly, he missed her. “They just were. I don’t know.”

“Oh. Okay.”

The movie finishes with El pretty much bouncing on the couch. She doesn’t verbally state her excitement, but it’s evident on her face.

“Fun, right? Makes you feel good?”

El nods. “Do we celebrate?”

“We will, if you want to.”

To be honest, Hop didn’t really know where he was going with this, hence why he didn’t think of a better explanation for Santa. He just remembers how much Sarah loved it, and he wants to make El that happy. He enlisted Joyce’s help with Christmas stuff, like finding presents and wrapping. Joyce loved El as much as Will and Jonathan, so she agreed easily.

El nods. “Yes.”

“Okay, well, get excited,” Hop says, pushing out of his chair. “It’s in twenty five days.”

El does the math in her head - 25 days was nothing after waiting forever for Mike. “Really?”

“Really,” Hop says. “C’mon, let’s get you to bed.”

===

The Byers went all out for El’s first Christmas.

Joyce, Will, and Jonathan came to help set up the house on the fifth. Jonathan had made snowflake cutouts, which Will had covered, to hang around the house. Joyce brought Christmas books for El to read, peppermint cookies, and hot chocolate. They’d brought some ornaments that wouldn’t fit on their tree, as well as lights, for the tiny pine that Hop had cut down in the woods. El really liked the smell of pine, fresh and uplifting. Her smile didn’t falter for a second as everyone moved around the small cabin, hanging things and cleaning. Jonathan gave El an old Santa hat, but she put it on Hopper and pouted until he reluctantly wore it.

“Looks good on you,” Joyce said in passing, which made Hop stop trying to prop up the tree.

“You mean that?”

Joyce didn’t answer, but Hopper’s smile was as big as El’s.

Probably the first thing El picked up on when she moved in with Hopper was that he loved Joyce. She knew it way before him, and wanted them to be together more than he did. El liked Joyce and always felt close to her, but she wanted Hopper to be happy, too. Once she learned about mistletoe from a Christmas movie Hopper showed her, there was no stopping her. She was going to get them to kiss, just like the couples in the movies.

Will had found an old bundle up in their attic and brought it for El, confused with why she wanted it. He figured she just wanted to touch it, or wanted the whole experience, or something. El really just wanted to make it float above the two at the perfect time. Which was, admittedly, not tonight - but soon.

===

“Snow!”

Hopper nodded at the stove. “Yep, just in time for your first Christmas.”

El made Hopper blast Christmas records the entire morning of Christmas Eve, and she made him wear the Santa hat. Hopper would have been irritated if it was anyone else, but El’s goofy smile convinced him to keep the hat on. He made her Christmas themed Eggos, complete with crushed candy canes and white chocolate, for breakfast. As they sat to eat, Hopper noticed a mischievous smile on El’s face.

“What?” he asked, mouth full.

El looked up at him and smiled more, but didn’t say anything.

“Alright,” he said, staring at her carefully. “Better behave. Joyce and the boys are coming soon.”

El’s smile grew, and Hopper didn’t understand why. But he felt close to smiling, too.

===

“Jesus, Joyce,” Hopper groaned, helping her and the kids carry in presents. He didn’t even know where she got all of this, or how she could afford it, but every last parcel went under the tiny tree in the living room. El’s face hurt from smiling, but she tried not to be too excited.

“What?” Joyce asked, throwing her free arm out. Quietly, she adds, “I wanted her first Christmas to be memorable.”

“It will be,” he promises. “Thanks to you guys.”

Joyce places the present she was holding under the tree and hits Hopper’s chest lightly. “You did good, too, Hop.” She looks up at the Santa hat and smiles as she adjusts the brim. “It - It’s crooked.” Her tongue sticks slightly out of the side of her mouth as she stands on her tiptoes, and she lowers herself slowly, continuing to stare up at him. El watches closely, almost about to make the mistletoe hover above them, but Joyce finally breaks from her stare and brushes herself off. “Who wants to make cookies?”

The day went by quickly, spent baking and taking breaks to watch movies. Jonathan rolled his eyes nearly the entire time, but stayed patient for El - and for Will, too, who was enjoying it. Will explained things for El - like who the Grinch was, and how animated movies work. El would nod and listen, but her mind kept wandering to Hopper and Joyce, who were prepping things in the kitchen.

“You don’t have to bake a pie,” Joyce said, fiddling with the pie crust. “Just because you’re eating at our house doesn’t mean you owe us.”

“I owe you for more than that.” He leans against the counter and sips on his coffee. “You made her so happy.”

Joyce shrugs. “Every kid deserves a good Christmas. Especially her. And Will.”

Hopper nods and stops himself from thinking too hard about the last two years. The only good things about it was adopting El and reconnecting with Joyce.

“Remember that snowball fight in the schoolyard?”

Joyce smiles and nods. “The one you started?”

“It wasn’t me!” he promises, laughing. “It was another Jim.”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Joyce beams. “The only person who would hit me in the head with a snowball is you.”

“That’s not true.”

Joyce scoffs and turns to him. “Do you think everyone should hit me in the head?”

“I’m not saying that,” he says slowly. “But you did get hit, like, ten times -”

Joyce reaches for some leftover cookie icing and swipes it onto Hopper’s nose. He’s taken aback, but Joyce smiles wide, wiping her hands on her pants.

“You did not just do that.”

Joyce feigns a frown. “Mmm. Looks like I did.”

Hopper reaches for the icing, but Joyce grabs his arm, laughing. “No, Hop - don’t -”

His finger swipes across her cheek and she gasps, not quite shocked but a little surprised, and grabs more for herself. “You ass -”

“Language,” he says, dodging her lunge. “Jeez, Joyce, you haven’t been this feisty since -”

“Since when?” she asks, lunging for him again, and Hop grabs her wrists to stop her. She takes a step towards him and their chests touch, both smiling. But Hopper’s smile falters, because Joyce is so beautiful, and this is the first time he’s seen her smile in a long, long time. He never wants the moment to end. Joyce suddenly bristles, and she gently slides out from his grip.

“Since high school,” Hop says smoothly, resting on the counter again.

“Yeah, well,” Joyce mumbles, once again playing with the pie crust. Her face falls, and then she looks over to him. “Do you even know how to make a pie?”

“You could teach me.”

She smiles again. “Well, I guess I have to.”

===

The kids managed to doze off, apparently too bored with the movies that were playing. Joyce and Hopper sat at the kitchen table, sharing cigarettes and a bottle of wine.

“What was the worst Christmas you’ve ever had?” Hopper asks, flicking his cigarette into the ashtray.

“Oh,” Joyce says, like she was waiting for the question. “First Christmas with Lonnie. He spent all of our money to get himself a - a - a gun. Didn’t even get me anything.”

Hopper swallows down his anger, never one to like Lonnie, especially after what he’d done to Joyce. “Damn.”

“Yeah.” She takes a drag. “Said his gift to me was to teach me how to use it.”

“Never took him up on it, huh?”

“No way,” she says, flicking her own ash. “What was yours?”

Hopper’s stomach drops and he diverts his eyes from hers, choosing to stare at the smoke rising from the glass tray. “First Christmas after Sarah.”

Joyce exhales slowly. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have -”

“It’s okay,” he says. “I don’t think about it much anymore.”

Joyce frowns and reaches for his hand, resting hers on top of it. “You’re doing a really good job.”

Hopper chuckles. “Thanks.”

“I mean it.”

“I know.”

There’s a moment of silence before Joyce retracts her hand and asks, “What was your best  Christmas?”

Hopper smiles gently, takes a drag, and flicks the ash. “This one.” His eyes wander over the El, curled up on his chair, the boys sleeping on the couch. “It’s nice… being around people again. I guess….” He looks at his hands. “I guess I missed it.”

Joyce bites her lip. “It’s my best Christmas, too.”

Hopper looks up, brows furrowed. “Really?”

“Really,” she whispers. “Because I have Will, and he’s safe. And Jonathan’s safe. And El is safe and happy.”

“Yeah.” Hopper takes a slow drag. “You know why else it’s my favorite Christmas?”

“Why?”

He pauses. “Because I could spend time with you.”

He thinks he’s imagining Joyce’s blush, but she moves a hand up to her face to hide it, confirming its existence. “It’s been a long time, huh?”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “It’s nice to….” He swallows. “To have you back.”

Joyce looks like she’s holding back, but she finally whispers, “It’s nice to have you back, too.”

And Hopper doesn’t know how, but there’s suddenly mistletoe hanging above them. He swears it wasn’t there before, that it just appeared in his line of vision. Joyce also seems shocked. “Wh - I don’t remember hanging that up.”

“Me neither.” Hopper puts his cigarette out and stands at the same time Joyce does to examine it.

“It looks like something from my house,” Joyce says, brows furrowed. “How - How’d it get - here?”

“What the hell is it hanging off of?” Hopper mutters, and then he realizes it’s floating - El.

His head snaps to the chair. El’s still curled up with her eyes closed, but she’s smiling slightly. Hopper smiles too, then looks back at Joyce, who’s still eyeing the mistletoe.

“How did it -?”

“Joyce.”

“Maybe one of the kids brought it -”

“Joyce.”

“What the heck is it hanging on?”

“Joyce!”

She finally looks at him. “What?”

Hopper was expecting her to get the hint. “Uh. Do you know what mistletoe is for?”

“Yeah?”

He chuckles timidly. “Eh - uh, Joyce.”

She shakes her head, lifts her eyebrows. “Yeah?”

He leans forward and kisses her, fast, so fast that she hardly even registers it. She looks shocked when he pulls back, and his cheeks flush. Joyce stares at him with wide eyes still, trying to process it.

“I’m so- shit, I’m sorry,” he says, but Joyce leans forward and kisses him, quick, before pulling back.

They both stare at each other, and then the mistletoe falls, shocking them both out of it. Will and Jonathan wake up at the sound, and El wipes her nose as she sits up and stretches. Hopper grabs the mistletoe and holds it while Joyce runs a hand through her hair, biting her lip to stop the smile. “Boys, we sh… we should probably go. It’s late.”

Hopper smiles as he watches them pack up, Joyce tripping over herself.

“Are you okay, mom?” Jonathan asks, holding onto her arm.

“Fine,” she says, waving him off, pointedly avoiding Hopper’s gaze. “Must - must’ve drank too much.”

“I’ll drive, don’t worry about it,” Jonathan says, helping her into her coat.

“You guys drive safe, okay?” Hopper says, an amused smile on his face, and Joyce’s cheeks flush.

“We will. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

Everyone says their goodbyes - Joyce and Hop’s gaze lingering a little too long - and when the door shuts, Hopper turns on his heels, looking right at El. He smiles wide. “Didn’t know you were a little trickster.”

She beams and shrugs. “Merry Christmas.”

Hopper steps forward and hugs her, pulling her in close. “Merry Christmas, kid.”

===

tags:  @pterawaters​ @mpmarypoppins​ @kurtsbuckethat​

[mischiefandspirits]

The Third Path

Some new ghost hunters have come to town, but are they really ghost hunters, or something else?

When a human dies, there are three paths the freed soul can take. Most are sent straight to the After. However, some stay behind.

“Excuse me, dear girl, but may I have a moment of your time!”

Valerie frowned at the shout and turned her board around to see a Latina woman staring at her with a curious smile. She had knee-length black hair that, alongside her long white dress, swirled around her from her spot on the edge of a skyscraper’s roof.

The ghost hunter immediately dove down towards the woman, holding up her hands. “Woah, hey now. There’s no need for that. Come down from there and we can talk about this.”

The woman frowned, then smiled again as she climbed down and stepped back until there were a good five feet between her and the edge. “Apologies, I did not mean to frighten you. I simply wished to gain your attention. I did not anticipate you taking my position in such a way.”

“Right,” Valerie said slowly dropping down to the roof and banishing her board. “How can I help you?”

The woman hummed, staring at where her board had been before looking up at her.

A shiver went up Valerie’s spine at the neon blue color of the woman’s eyes, but it was washed away a second later by a wave of contentment that filled her.

“My name is Adelaida. I and my people have come to this town to assist with the demonic presence that plagues you.”

Valerie’s eyes widened. “Demonic? You mean the ghosts?”

“Yes, that is the term you use for them, isn’t it?”

“You’re ghost hunters?” she asked cautiously. More ghost hunters wasn’t exactly a bad thing, but only if they were actually helpful. Most of the ghost hunters Valerie has met were absolutely useless while the G.I.W. did more damage than the ghosts. The Fenton’s at least knew what they were doing, even if they tended to be a little trigger happy and often late to the party.

“In a sense. We hoped to gain information on the demons -- or ghosts -- that most commonly plague you. We have already sought out the matriarch and patriarch of the Fenton family as our research painted them as your town’s best hunters and they spoke well of you. As such, we wished to see if you would have any information that might assist us.”

Valerie straightened up with Pride. It was nice that some people appreciated her efforts. She’d never really spoken to the Fentons in her hunting persona -- too worried they’d recognize her -- and everyone else either opposed her because of her fights with Phantom or was Masters, and Masters was one wrong move away from a face full of ecto-ray.

“They did not inform us that you use demonic relics to fight with, however.”

She flinched. She wasn’t exactly happy to be using ghost-made weapons, but she wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Her suit was far and away the best of the best and let her keep up with ghosts in ways no other human could. “Well, fight fire with fire and all that.”

“I suppose.”

She frowned at the disgust in Adelaida’s voice. “It’s not that different from the ecto-weapons the Fentons have created.”

“No, but those are distasteful as well.”

“Well, what do you use?” If Adelaida was another one of those people who thought you could fight ghosts with sage and horseshoes, Valerie was taking off without another word. Where did people even get ideas like that?

“My people have access to an energy that is the polar opposite of the energy used by demons, the matter to their antimatter so to speak. It can be quite painful to ghosts and does not burden us with using such horrific devices.”

Valerie felt her annoyance with the woman’s haughtiness growing, but shoved it down in curiosity at the idea of some sort of anti-ectoplasm. “Really? How did you get your hands on something like that? Did your people develop it?”

“In a way. But that is not why I’m here. Tell me, what do you know of the demons that plague this town?”

She shrugged. “Too much to tell. There’s a ghost for every day of the year and they all show up at random. The short of it though is one ghost. Well, two, but Box Ghost is more a nuisance than a threat.”

Adelaida nodded. “The Fenton’s mentioned the box obsessed demon. I suppose the other you referenced is the one who refers to itself as Danny Phantom.”

“Yeah, him.” Valerie scowled. She still wasn’t sure how to feel about the ghost-boy. Every time she considered going back to hunting him, all she could think about was him pleading for her to let him save Dani and him holding out his hands after so she could capture him once more. She thought about the times they’d worked together and how he’d only ever betrayed her by telling her father her secret to keep her from what she knew was a suicide mission.

The woman must have misread her scowl as she said, “Yes, I understand your frustration. The Fenton’s told us much about the hero act the demon uses to gain favor in the town and we agree that its tie to this plane is likely its need for attention. Given its age, it was likely either an unwanted or neglected child or one who hoarded such attention in life, such as a prince or celebrity. It has clearly come to find that displays of kindness are its best bet to gain this attention and should the attention ever wane, it will undoubtedly return to its early acts of vandalism and violence to satisfy its obsession once more.”

Even though she nodded along, Valerie couldn’t help but disagree as she’d done before when she’d heard such things from the Fenton’s. Phantom didn’t like attention, he had run away from his phans and hidden from news copters enough for that to be obvious. Sure, he was a showboat, but he never stuck around after a fight. If Phantom had an obsession -- which Valerie didn’t buy -- it was probably fighting. Or maybe just Amity Park in general. He’d certainly claimed it as his territory, judging by the fact that a few of the ghosts that could be found skulking about often complained about how “Phantom said we could stay!” and would go cry to him if she tried to capture them.

“Is there anything else you could tell us?”

Valerie considered saying something about Masters, but she was hesitant to reveal the human-ghost hybrid. If someone discovered him, how long until they discovered Dani? She wouldn’t be the reason the girl was in danger again. “Careful with Phantom. He’s a lot more powerful than most of the ghosts we see around here and he’s got allies.”

“Allies?”

“Most don’t know it, but Phantom lets some ghosts stick around. He’ll protect them if we come after them, so I wouldn’t put it past them to return the favor if he needed it.”

“Vassals then,” Adelaida hummed. “That could be promising. The Fenton’s did not mention that. Thank you for your assistance. I will inform my people.” She gave a curtsey and turned to leave.

“Would you like some help?”

The woman looked back at her with a smile as she opened to the door to the rooftop entrance. “We have this under control, young one.”

With that, she was gone.

Valerie frowned as she took back to the air. She briefly wondered if she should reach out to Phantom about this before shoving the thought aside. Even if she wasn’t sure about hunting the ghost-boy, she wasn’t going to help him either. And the woman didn’t give her the same creeps as the G.I.W., so it was probably fine. In fact, the woman had felt warm and comforting.

Although it was admittedly kind of weird that she’d called Valerie young when Adelaida looked like she was maybe in her early twenties at best and the suit made people think Valerie was older than her actual sixteen years. Also, there’d been something off with her eyes. Valerie couldn’t place it, but they’d just felt… uncanny.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“It’s not funny,” Danny muttered, rubbing at his back and scowling at his laughing friend.

“How long until the paint wears off?” Sam chuckled.

“I don’t even know! Young-butt wouldn’t say.”

“What’s going on?” Tucker said, glancing between them as he joined them for their walk home.

“Apparently, Danny forgot to mention that he got ambushed on his way home from his weekend in Olympus,” Sam said, laughter still tinting her voice.

At Tucker’s worried look, Danny elaborated. “Youngblood decided we were going to have a water balloon fight.”

“But instead of water, he filled them with ectoplasmic paint. And now his ghost half is covered in the stuff, even if he transforms.”

“Only my face and hair. Thankfully I was wearing that ceremonial outfit Pandora gave me. I hope she doesn’t want it back before I can figure out how to get the stains out.”

“Ghost OxiClean,” Sam suggested over Tucker’s laughter.

“What color… are… you now?” Tucker asked between chortles.

“A dark purple,” Danny sighed.

Sam pat his head. “Could be worse. You could be red. We’d be forced to make Christmas jokes and then we’d be back to square one with you, Mr. Grinch.”

Danny rolled his eyes and knocked their shoulder together, only to hiss at the pain that shot up his back.

“You okay, dude?” Tucker asked, wiping away tears.

“Yeah, my back just started hurting last night. I thought I’d just pulled something in the fight, but it was even worse this morning. I took some of the pain meds Frostbite gave me, but they wore off.”

“Does your ghost form even have muscles to pull?” Tucker wondered.

“We can head to your house first so we can pick up your pills,” Sam suggested. “It really must be hurting if you actually took them instead of deciding to wait it out.”

It was. It felt like growing pains crossed with the ghost gauntlets, but worse. A throbbing ache that took his breath away with random spikes.

“Thanks.”

They were halfway to his house when Danny’s ghost sense went off and a grey-green arm shot out of an alleyway to drag him in. He braced for a fight, but relaxed slightly when he saw it was Kitty.

She looked rumpled, her hair messed up and her jacket singed with burns littering her skin.

“What’s wrong? Valerie again?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know who attacked us. I couldn’t see them, but I think they were after you. When they captured Johnny and Shadow in a net, I heard one of them say they’d gotten one of Phantom’s vassals, whatever that means.”

“A vassal is someone who is granted land by nobility in return for loyalty, respect, and wartime support,” Sam explained. “It kind of describes the deal you and the others have with Danny, in an archaic way.”

“If you ignore the fact Danny’s not nobility and substitute the loyalty stuff for you guys just not attacking people,” Tucker added.

Kitty’s nose scrunched up at the information, but otherwise ignored it. “Please, you have to help them! We weren’t even doing anything this time!”

Danny gave her an unimpressed look.

“Okay, maybe Johnny destroyed some guy’s car because he was checking me out, but can you blame him.”

“Yes,” Danny said, then sighed. “Fine, but you need to head back to the Ghost Zone as soon as I get your boyfriend out. Try to warn anyone you can on your way. Might be best for everyone to get clear until I figure out what these guys want.”

She agreed immediately and he turned to his friends.

“We’ll be right behind you,” Sam said and Tucker nodded.

“Alright, I’m going ghost!”

Kitty and Danny shot into the air, Danny holding onto Kitty since he was faster while she led him to where she’d last seen Johnny.

They found him on a side street, pinned beneath a net that glowed silver. It certainly didn’t look like anything he was used to. His parents’ tech was all green since it used pure ectoplasm straight from the ghost zone. Valerie’s was a reddish-pink thanks to Technus keeping her aesthetic the same as Vlad’s tech, which was powered by his own energy. The G.I.W.’s was blue due to the purification they did on all the ectoplasm they got their hands on.

Danny looked around as they got closer to the street, but didn’t see anyone. Knowing it was a trap, but with no other choice, they turned invisible and dropped down next to the net.

“Johnny,” Kitty whispered, kneeling next to him.

“Hey Kitten,” he groaned. He looked up at Danny and smirked. “What happened to your face?”

“Shut up.” Seeing the way the net was hurting Johnny, Danny reached out with his energy to pull it off him that way.

The net went flying. Thank you, Pandora! Telekinesis was the best!

“Thanks, kid,” Johnny huffed.

“You know, I’m the same age as you guys now,” Danny said as Kitty helped him stand and Shadow peeled off the ground, looking worse for wear.

“Sure, give or take a few decades,” Johnny snorted.

“Just get out of here befo-” Danny was cut off by a blast to the side that sent him flying. He shrieked as his back hit the asphalt.

“Kid!”

“Go!” he ordered, fighting through the pain to sit up.

Johnny looked conflicted for a moment, then summoned his bike.

As the two rode off, Danny turned to face the direction the blast had come from.

“So you are the one called Danny Phantom?” a man said as he walked out of the shadows.

Danny’s first impression was that the man didn’t look like a hunter. He was taller and thinner than Danny and probably in his late twenties. He wore a tank top and athletic shorts, but no shoes. His dark brown skin was offset by pale gold hair and silver eyes.

Glowing silver eyes.

“You’re a ghost,” Danny groaned. Great, just what he needed: Infighting.

The ghost laughed. “You date yourself, demon. If you can’t recognize me, you must be less than two hundred years.”

“Pretty sure the suit says the same thing, but go off I guess,” Danny snorted as he stood. “Wait, did you just call me a demon?”

The man raised his hand and Danny took to the air to dodge a blast of silver energy.

“What? Not even going to start in on your evil plan. What kind of villain doesn’t monologue?”

“The only evil villain here is you,” the ghost hissed as he shot blast after blast at the flying halfa. “We are here to cleanse this town of you and your demonic vassals.”

“First of all, they're not my vassals, I just don’t bother kicking them back to the Ghost Zone as long as they don’t cause trouble,” Danny said, creating a shield to absorb the blasts. “And second, what’s with all the dem-Wait, we?”

A blast hit him in the back and ANCIENTS! OW! THAT HURT! THAT VERY MUCH HURT!

He barely caught himself before he hit the ground and quickly summoned another shield, this time creating a sphere to wrap around him. He glanced back to take in his new opponent.

For half a second, he thought it was Dani. Then he realized the short, white-haired woman actually looked like she was in her mid-forties, had vivid yellow eyes, and was Asian.

He blamed the pain. The excruciating pain.

“Oh goody, two for one special, must be my lu-”

Something slammed into his shield from above just as the two’s blasts hit it and it shattered.

His back hit the pavement and he must have blacked out because the next thing he knows he’s being held aloft by an angel.

“Maybe next time you fall from heaven, get better aim,” he whimpered.

The black-haired, blue-eyed, winged ghost gave him an unimpressed look and opened her mouth, but was cut off by Goldilocks.

“Adelaida, humans.”

His captor glanced to the side and her raven-like wings turned invisible.

Danny turned to look as well and saw Sam and Tucker running up, looking nervous.

“Divya, take care of them.”

Oh hell no!

“Phantom!” Valerie snarled, flying in to hover over his friends.

Good, she’d protect them.

“Have you really moved on to attacking unarmed civilians?”

Or not.

“Unar-They’re ghosts!”

Valerie looked at her wrist. “My tracker says otherwise.”

“Your tracker doesn’t pick me up half the time!”

“You think they’re overshadowed?” Sam asked.

“They’re glowing!” Danny huffed, gesturing towards Adelaida.

“I don’t see it,” Tucker said.

“It’s alright,” the Asian woman — Divya supposedly — said, walking towards his friends.

To his surprise, all three humans started to relax.

“No.” The halfa scowled. “No. No, we are not having another mayor incident.” He raised his hand and fired.

Adelaida shrieked as he hit her wing and they flickered into visibility.

He kicked her away then fired at Goldilocks and Divya, revealing their pale gold and white wings respectively. “See, ghosts! Now get those two out of here.”

Valerie hesitated, then swooped down to grab Sam and Tucker.

“What? Hey!”

“Put me down!”

Danny turned to the ghosts to see them regrouping.

Adelaida looked furious as she stepped forward. “I am ending this.”

“Adelaida,” Goldilocks warned.

“The humans already know of us, Buhle. It is time to put the demon down.”

He nodded and stepped behind her, Divya following his lead.

Adelaida braced herself with her wings and feet and took a deep breath.

Danny only just had enough time to realize what was about to happen and throw up a shield before her ghostly wail hit. Hers looked much like his own, though neon blue instead of his own toxic green. It also didn’t seem as powerful as his considering he was still standing, even if cracks were quickly forming on his shield. He wasn’t sure if it was a power thing or just that she was holding back.

He hoped it was a power thing as he braced his feet. He let the shield fall just as his own wail rang out.

Green sonic waves clashed with blue, pressing back and forth against each other with the green slowly gaining ground. Then the blue faltered, a bit of shock lacing her voice, and the green waves steamrolled through.

Adelaida, Buhle, and Divya went flying and Danny cut off the wail. He fell to his hands and knees, using every bit of his willpower to hold onto his ghost form.

“Phantom!” Sam shouted.

“Well, that’s one way to remove ghost paint,” Tucker chuckled nervously.

Danny gave a panting laugh, spotting his once more white hair falling into his face.

He tried to look up at the ghosts, but he was exhausted and his back was hurting more than ever before as the adrenalin ran out. He was a sitting duck, just barely holding onto his ghost form.

Wonderful.

He felt something come near and Sam shouted, “Get away from him!”

A hand settled gently on his back and… Oh. Oh! Oh, that felt good. He looked up and was surprised to see Divya standing over him, her eyes glowing the same color as his own.

“So young,” she cooed.

“Impossible!” Adelaida gasped.

Danny turned to see Buhle supporting her, both staring at him with shock.

“None have been born in three hundred years,” the silver-eyed ghost said. “He does not even have his wings.”

“They’re growing in now,” Divya replied. “That is probably our fault. We invaded his territory.”

“He can not be,” Adelaida said, shaking her head. “He works with demons, allows them to harm humans.”

“I don’t let anyone hurt anyone,” Danny huffed. “The others are only allowed to stay if they behave themselves.”

“Demons are selfish creatures. They can not be trusted,” Divya said softly.

“Says you,” Danny huffed. “Johnny and Kitty are fine as long as they’re not fighting since only the tourists are stupid enough to flirt with one of them by this point. Ember likes playing open mic night, Youngblood just wants a playmate, the Casper High shades just like to get egg creams at the old-school diner, and Boxy is harmless usually. Seriously, you guys are ghosts, what’s with the delusional ghost hunter rhetoric?”

“Excuse me,” Valerie growled.

“It’s okay, I know you’ve got your reasons. I still love you,” he said cheekily, winking at her.

She and Sam pretended to gag.

“We are not demons.”

Danny turned to Buhle with a snort. “You glow and have wings.”

“Precisely,” he huffed, stretching out his wings.

“Humans don’t have wings.”

“We are not humans, but we are not demons.”

Divya rubbed the hand on his back up and down. “We are like you, hun.”

“I’m a ghost.” Half-ghost, but details.

Unless…

She shook her head. “Poor thing, so lost and confused.”

“Okay, time to go back to the fighting,” he groaned, but didn’t try to get up. Whatever she was doing to his back was worth the baby talk.

“We are not demons, ” Adelaida spat. “We are angels.”

Danny stared at her blankly. “And I’m an atheist.”

“We are the souls of those who have passed who remain tied to this world by selfless reasons,” Buhle said in a calm voice. “We are the equal and opposites of those who reside in the darker realm, who linger due to selfish desires. We work to protect life from such creatures and bring joy to the humans of this plane.”

“So… a good ghost.”

“There is no such thing as a good demon!” Adelaida snapped. “Are you always this frustrating?”

“Yeah.”

“Absolutely.”

“Constantly.”

“It’s a gift.”

She turned to Buhle. “He can not possibly be an angel.”

“I told you, I’m an atheist. Pretty sure Tu-my friend told me that’s a big no-no in heaven. Speaking of…” Danny turned to Sam. “S-Goth human, aren’t real angels supposed to be eldritch abominations? Six wings and seven heads or something? Constantly on fire? I swear someone once told me that.”

“That-that’s not entirely accurate,” Sam chuckled as Tucker laughed. “But you’ve got the right idea. They’re actually pretty terrifying. That’s why people tend to freak out when they see them in the stories. It’s awesome.”

“Cool.” He turned back to the two angel ghosts to see Adelaida pinching the bridge of her nose and Buhle looking very done. “So where’s the rest of your wings and heads.”

Divya laughed and patted his head. “You young ones are always so entertaining.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

This is based on an old story of mine. And by old, I mean really old. I don't think I was even on this site when I wrote it since I can’t find it on my blog. I started getting into some new Danny Phantom stuff and felt compelled to write something along the same lines. This is just a one-shot so I doubt I'll write more for this, but I've got a bunch of ideas for this world so I needed to get some of it out.

[masjestickingdom]

My Little Secret (Part 3)

Pairing: NCT Jaehyun x reader

Genre: Angst

Summary: Welcome to the house of torture, where you find yourself struggling to survive.

Note: This is the last installment of “My Little Secret”! It was supposed to be longer (seriously, way longer), but I decided to cut it down. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have been able to upload today. If you haven’t read part 1 or part 2, check them out here or here. Enjoy! 

____________________________________________________________________________          

    It was day two of you living in the house of torture, and the torture began with a simple call. Nothing was more tiring than the constant cries of your morning alarm, but nothing was more frightening than waking up to the screaming ringtone of your phone before your alarm. It was five minutes till five in the morning, and Johnny was calling you--nothing about it was a good sign.

    The week before you had temporarily moved into the Jung, Lee, Kim household, Johnny and you were promoted to one of the higher positions in your department, effectively ending your boss-and-subordinate position with Jia and subsequently her frequent calls, which you felt sorry to whomever would take your position. Instead, your calls came from Johnny, who was your partner-in-crime in the company since you two were exclusively the two assistants of Chris, your current boss.

    With you groggily forcing yourself up your bed, the phone kept ringing across the room. You were trying that “life hack” of waking up in one try by having your phone away from easily accessible areas around you, but with the surprise calls, you were sure to give up the habit soon.

    “What?” you said grouchily into the speaker once you barely made it to your desk.

    “Yeesh, I woke the Grinch up,” Johnny responded jokingly.

    You wouldn’t have it. “It’s almost five, Johnny. We leave for work at seven.”

    Cue the dramatic list of things you had to do that day, commencing your wonderful morning of your second day in the house that wasn’t yours. That was just a small appetizer of the horrors of your mornings there. They were nothing in comparison to your nights when you would return to the sweet smell of whatever dish Doyoung or Jaehyun were cooking but couldn’t afford to eat with the work you had to do. They paled in comparison to your lonely nights up in the kitchen, fetching water while looking over some thick files in the dimly-lit kitchen. They were a speck of dust in comparison to the nights when you actually had the time to sleep, yet you couldn’t. You would lie awake in bed, drowning yourself in a whirlpool of the same thoughts. What kind of thoughts? Surprisingly, none of them had to do with your work. No, you were sick of it. Rather, they were the kind of thoughts that involved the certain man sleeping in the next room.

    Caught up with work, it wasn’t hard to swallow your feelings about Jaehyun whenever you two were in the same room, an occurrence that was rare with your crazy schedule and Jaehyun’s focus on Jaehyung. Sometimes, you would wonder why your sister suggested that you filled in her spot while she was away when all you would do was work even in the house.

    Days rolled by quicker than you expected, and they were unsurprisingly unpleasant. You were able to suppress your feelings for Jaehyung to some degree and could hold conversations with him, building the foundation of your guys’ relationship as in-laws. You even initiated the conversations sometimes. But all that just reminded you that you couldn’t have him, and it was killing you.

    Soon, it was the second to last day at the house, and you (thankfully) had the day off. You had told Jaehyun the night before to relax so that you could start taking care of Jaehyung more, but the kind father refused. So there you were on the couch, watching Jaehyung’s favorite movie with everyone else in the living room. It was one of the rare moments when Jaehyung stayed quiet, his eyes watching the screen with so much anticipation that you wanted to pinch his cheeks. You didn’t, of course, since you didn’t want to pull him out of his zone. Instead, you focused your attention to the movie, which you admittedly thought was entertaining

    Lunch rolled by like a breeze and Jaehyung was sound asleep in his room. Before you knew it, you were back in your room on your laptop, looking over the interview Johnny had with one of the most renowned artists of the digital age even though it was your day off.

    “Johnny, I think you can send it to Chris,” you spoke into your speaker, making small commentary on a few slides. “It looks great.”

    Despite giving him the okay sign to proceed with the presentation, you sensed that there was hesitation on the other line.

    “What?” you asked, an ugly feeling clawing into you. “What’s wrong?”

    Another moment of silence sunk in before Johnny dropped the bomb. “Chris also told me that Jack’s manager called.”

    You drew a sharp breath inward. “No.”

    From your friend’s visibly frustrated sigh, you could only imagine your boss’ deeply furrowed eyebrows. “Don’t tell me he canceled.”

    “He said something about schedule conflicts.”

    There was no better word than exasperation to describe how you felt. Jack was someone everyone from Asia to North America knew. He was the guy that everyone wanted to get an interview of--he always turned offers down. Somehow, Chris managed to get a hold of his manager and arranged a meeting for both an interview and a photoshoot, but there was always an unspoken tension that whispered an ominous message that Jack would cancel. The main story for your November issue was now empty.

    “That jackass,” you murmured under your breath as you furiously typed a message to Chris on your phone. “With two days from the shoot he’s bailing? Unbelievable.”

    “Chris already said that there was nothing we could do about it,” Johnny said, stopping you from your impetuous typing. “So don’t request that we call Jack’s manager again.”

    “We can’t just let this egoistic man do whatever he pleases,” you huffed furiously. “Our entire team has been working day and night for this, and the one day we’re let to rest is the day he decides to suddenly say that he won’t be cooperating. The audacity of this man to cancel two days before the shoot is unacceptable. Just who on Earth does he think he is?”

    By the time you were done ranting, you were already seated on the edge of your bed, pulling up your socks.

    “A worldwide superstar,” Johnny candidly replied to your rhetorical question.

    “Well he obviously needs a wake-up call,” you grumbled. “Can you send me his address?”

    Rummaging through your bag in an effort to find your keys, you heard Johnny say, “You don’t even know if he’ll be there.”

    “So I’ll camp out.”

    At that statement, Johnny decided against picking up a fight. He knew better than to have you get riled up even more. You were on your way out when Jaehyun came out of his room with Mark and asked where you were going.

    “Work,” you said over your shoulder before swiftly leaving the house before anyone could say anything else.

    “Isn’t it her day off?” Mark uttered when he recovered from the fact that you had just gotten away in a blink of an eye. “It’s a national holiday.”

    With a frown, the taller man stared at the door. “Jaehyung was looking forward to spending the afternoon with her.”

    “Maybe she’ll come back soon.” 

    It was midnight by the time you had personally convinced Jack to take part in the interview and photoshoot. You had waited in your car for six hours in front of his house, hoping that each car that passed by belonged to Jack. At the second hour mark, Johnny joined you in the waiting session, originally there to tell you that you were crazy until he gave in. For half an hour, Jack refused to let you in. He thought you were a fan at first, but even after you cleared the misinterpretation, he still refused to let you in, let alone be the main story of the magazine. It didn’t matter if the wind was frosting your hands or freezing your ears: you had to convince Jack. After waiting outside at his gates for another four hours, you successfully got the conceited man to let you in for only five minutes.

    “You’re seriously crazy,” Johnny breathed out into the cold night the moment you two stepped out of Jack’s house. “You’re a crazy lady.”

    A huge smile was planted on your lips as you closed the gates behind Johnny.

    “We did it,” you said, almost whispering. “We did it.”

    Engulfing you in a warm hug, Johnny patted your back and gave you a squeeze. “You did it.”

    You laughed joyously and swayed your bodies side-to-side, returning Johnny’s actions, and when you let go of him, you immediately squealed and jumped around like a two-year old.

    “We got Jack!” you shouted excitedly, twirling across the street. “We did it!”

    It probably wasn’t the best idea to run around the streets at midnight when you were exhausted from waiting because on the way to your sister’s house, you were yawning every passing second and almost fell asleep at each red light you encountered. Making it across the lawn wasn’t an easy task either with the wind forcefully pushing away from entering. It was a quarter till one in the morning when you opened the front door, greeted by your brother-in-law from the kitchen. You weakly waved at him, but were too tired to bother starting a small conversation with him. You couldn’t even hear the man ask you whatever he asked, not even your name. All you could do was stare at your moving legs, which seemed to move on a mind of their own as they moved past the shoe room, and watch your world turn black.

...

    “No, Johnny was there with me,” Doyoung heard you say while he flipped the waffle maker over the stove. “Yeah, I’m glad we didn’t cancel everything.”

    “Jesse?” he called out, leaning his head back to see you reach out for the doorknob.

    “Don’t worry!” you responded, waving to him briefly. “I’ll be back before dinner!”

    And you were gone like that. At the sound of the door shutting, a certain someone with a long pair of joggers and a white t-shirt appeared from the basement.

    “Was that Mark?” he asked in a husky voice, slipping into one of the dining chairs.

    When Doyoung revealed that it was you, the man immediately shot up from his chair and rushed to the windows. Sure enough, you were speedily walking across the street, busily talking to someone on the phone.

    Catching you while you were knocked out was the last thing Jaehyun had imagined he would be doing earlier that morning. He was so concerned that you wouldn’t return home that he stayed up all night, wandering back and forth from the living room to his room, so he almost lost it when you fell into his arms. No matter how many times he called out your name, you wouldn’t wake up. Crouched on the ground with you cradled in his arms, he watched you soundly breathe in and out with a relieved expression. Gathering his strength, he stood on his feet and lifted you up in bridal style, taking you to your room as quietly as he could. While he tucked you under the covers, he watched you go off into dreamland peacefully, which oddly made him feel at ease. As he brushed away a few stray strands of hair from your face and observed your soft but dominant facial features, a strong wave of discovery hit him like a rock. His pulse began to pick up, and he was no longer at ease. But what he did was simple: he left an unopened box of aspirin and a water bottle next to your phone, which he carefully placed on the bedside table. When you left the house without a notice, he went into your room and saw the aspirin tray peeking out of its box and the water bottle three-quarters full. A smile unknowingly rested on his face.

    Later that night, when you returned well past dinner time, you went straight to your room, passing the meal that was left for you on the dinner table and calling Jia.

    “That’s great,” you told her through the phone, plopping down onto your chair. “Tell Emma that we’re expecting her entire team there, too.”

    A small repetition of knocks shortly followed and seeing who it was at the door, you quickly hung up on Jia and swiveled your chair around.

    “What’s up?” you greeted the man of your dreams, watching him take great strides towards your bed. “I thought you were asleep.”

    “I couldn’t,” he replied simply, situating himself comfortably on top of your big covers.

    Turning around back to your computer, you attempted to force down the intense emotions that were resurfacing. With the handsome man showing up in casual joggers and a simple t-shirt, an outfit that looked damn fine on him, you had to mentally slap yourself to come back to your senses. But they kicked back in an instant when he called, “Jesse.”

    At the sound of your name melodiously leaving the lips of Jaehyun, you restrained yourself from looking at him.

    “I’m listening,” you said, searching for a lost document in the sea of mess known as your desktop.

    A short-lived second of crickets passed before he said, “Shouldn’t you be taking a break from work?”

    With your eyes busily scanning for the file, you answered monotonously, “I already did when we were watching the movie yesterday.”

    “You came back at one yesterday,” he urged in a more pressing voice. “Jaehyung was waiting for you.”

    That got you to stop what you were doing. You hated it when you let down Jaehyung, and you didn’t need to be reminded of your constant shortcomings.

    “I’ll see him first thing in the morning,” you said barely above a whisper.

    “Jesse, look at me.”

    Those four simple words were all it took for your heart to skip a beat. A small tugging of your heart began, the tug you felt during your sleepless nights. Silently sighing, you prepared yourself to set your eyes on the most beautiful man. Of all your years working and facing severely bad days, the hardest challenge in your life was to look at Jaehyun straight in the eye. Nothing competed the concerned gaze he gave you. Absolutely nothing.

    Giving yourself another mental slap, you returned his seriousness with a flat, naive look. When he took a step forward, beginning his advancement towards you, you focused your nervous, excited energy on your toes, squeezing them. With a few feet in between you two, he settled on your desk and held your gaze with so much intensity that you had to blink.

    “Don’t you think you’re working too much?”

    Your brows instantly furrowed. “What?”

    “You’re giving up your personal time and social life to work when you don’t have to.”

    Despite Jaehyun’s soft, cautious tone, you felt attacked and alert: the man you loved thought you had no social life.

    “I do have a social life,” you argued, returning your gaze back to the screen to break the horrific feeling sinking into your stomach. “You just don’t know it.”

    “Jesse.”

    The smooth, fragile fingers of the man spread warmth throughout your body when he touched your arm. The sound of your heart beating grew louder and louder, your face, in contrast, stoic as a rock. You had no idea how to react. The man’s hand was on your arm! It was even squeezing your arm for a quick second.

    “I’m saying this for your better interest.”

    You couldn’t register anything he was saying; your attention was taken away by his hand. It was as smooth as silk compared to your rough, unmoisturized hands. Thankfully, it wasn’t too long when an idea occurred to you. You strategically leaned into your chair, naturally (and regrettably) pulling your arm away from the man’s touch.

    You cleared your throat and gathered the courage to face him eye-to-eye. “So I work overtime sometimes. What’s wrong with that?”

    “When was the last time you enjoyed a full day off?” When a grilling number of silent seconds ensued, he continued, “You always couldn’t make it to our dinner invitations and left Jaehyung bummed out.”

    The butterflies began to subside when a new, more vivid feeling arose.

    “I’m sorry, but the truth is that I work for something that needs my constant attention,” you said, your eyes darkening.

    His eyes dug deep into you, insisting you to think again. At that point, you were slowly getting frustrated. How could you bear the atrocity of him belonging to someone else while caring for you like that? You hated how you felt.

    “Why do you care?” you shot, not meaning for it to come out as harsh as it did. “I get that I’m Janet’s sister and Jaehyung’s aunt, but I don’t need you to feel obligated to care just because of my connection with them.”

    It was Jaehyun’s turn for his eyebrows to knit together. “As a friend, I think that it’s not good for you to always be overworked.”

    You snapped. “Don’t give me that crap, Jaehyun!”

    You felt a part of yourself fall at the crestfallen expression that formed on Jaehyun’s face, but you were still pissed at how he made you feel stupid and giddy inside even though he wasn’t yours.

    “Since when were we friends?” you striked. “We only know each other because of Janet!”

    With an incredulous expression, Jaehyun exclaimed, “So all this time you initiated a conversation or smiled at me was not because we were friends but because you felt obligated to?” He stood up from the desk in fury and stepped forward. “I couldn’t sleep because I cared about you and was worried that you wouldn’t come back! You know why? Because you never come back! Not even on the holidays!”

    You pushed onward and pointed your finger at his chest. “You’re the one who feels obligated to treat me the way you do! You’re the one who feels the need to look out for me just because I’m Janet’s younger sister! Did I ask you to set me up with Jungwoo? No! Did I ask you to stay up for me? No! So stop making me feel so damn bad when I already feel like I’m at rock bottom for treating Jaehyung the way I have!”

    You were so caught up in the moment that you didn’t notice the lack of proximity between you two. Your mind was running with furious thoughts, not giving you a chance to cool down. But the sudden change in Jaehyun’s expression broke the angry momentum: his face had fallen back to a broken manner. You watched his eyes stare into yours, waiting for something you didn’t know what you were waiting for. It was a matter of moments when his mouth slightly parted and spilled something you wish you could unhear.

    “The only reason why I look out for you is because I have feelings for you.”

    There went the sound of your heart pounding harder than ever with the rush of adrenaline spreading throughout your body. A chilling breeze ran down your spine as you watched Jaehyun wait for your reaction with pained eyes, causing you to step backwards, away from the taken man.

    “No, no you don’t,” you whispered, shaking your head. “Take that back. You don’t mean that. You don’t.”

    Your breathing rapidly fastened. Your palms became sweaty. The room felt suffocating. Jaehyun remained where he was--until you took in his honest self for one last time and left him for the bathroom, where you sat in the corner and let the tears you hadn’t let out for years trickle down your exhausted face. By the time you returned to your room, he was gone.

    The next morning, you vanished from the house, leaving Jaehyung the presents you intended on giving him when your sister arrived next to his bed. You remembered the day you went shopping with Jaehyung and Jaehyun, secretly looking for their presents. You remembered how happy Jaehyung was to be running in the big mall. Most of all, you remembered Jaehyun’s sweet voice and his fatherly smile. You threw his present in the trash can.

    There was no trace of you left in the house of torture except for the food you left uneaten. When you closed the front door behind you, you cut off the string to the red thread that you had hung on for so long. But what you didn’t know was that the man in joggers and white t-shirt had grabbed on, holding on for dear life. You started the engines to your car and drove off in the dark streets. You were still fumbling to hold the red thread, trying to grab onto the falling pieces.

[ao3bronte]

Santa Shuffle🎅🎄

After what has been an admittedly tumultuous December (‘Bronte: Attack of the Anons’ was basically the theme at the beginning of my holiday season), I decided to try something that would lift my spirits. I love games and surprises so rather than bang my head against the wall trying to come up with another story, I decided to create little Christmas drabbles based on the following rules:

Put Spotify on shuffle and start playing Christmas songs.

For each song, write something inspired by the song. 

Do 10 songs and post. Make sure to include the song name/artist.

Please sit back and enjoy!​🎅🎄

~

It’s Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas - Michael Bublé

The stars are shining from behind the ever-present layer of wintertime clouds, floating like lanterns in the dark. Tonight, Chat Noir feels as if he’s soaring amongst them, gazing up at the brilliant lights that emanate from the canvas of twilight sky. Brightly decorated Christmas trees sit like beacons in the middle of crowded squares that teem with winter markets and roasted chestnuts and Chat simply can’t keep his feelings back any longer, glowing with a wild abandon he has never known.

As always, he’s right where he belongs.

He lets go of his baton and tosses his body into the air, somersaulting over a bevy of twinkling Christmas lights. He banks right and ventures off further onto the familiar rooftops of Paris, healing the gashes in his soul long scabbed over. There’s nothing like the feeling of the holidays, lost within the colourful heights and cheerful carols, never falling. He smiles, his heart bursting with a feeling he can only describe as true, utter bliss.

Christmas in Paris is coming, and for the first time ever, he actually has a home.

Mistletoe - Justin Bieber

There are people everywhere, packed within the vast confines of the main hall of Le Grand Paris. They’re dancing, feasting, laughing, screaming, kissing, drinking, having the time of their lives.

It’s a Christmas party and the Champagne is flowing. Things are going to get a little sloppy.

He spies her from the other side of the hall and they lock eyes, a smirk full of promise playing on her lips. She’s been canoodling and chatting up her network like a true professional while Adrien admires from afar, content to watch her sashay in that gorgeous red handmade gown he loves so very much. The open back, the plunging neckline, the figure hugging silk he just wants to…

...well, he has to be on his best behaviour. They’re in public after all.

But, like most parties this time of year, there are punches and bottles of sparkling wine a plenty, which means that no one is acting with enough propriety to notice the heat emanating between them. He returns her saucy gesture with a raised eyebrow and a smug grin and it’s one of those take it or leave it smirks, the kind that teases and promises so much more.

She pushes through the crowd, her eyes never leaving his, and he stands his ground, limbs tingling with both excitement and slight intoxication. He can feel her lingering on her lips, a memory of something intangibly right, and shifts his body so that he’s standing right where he needs to be in order to make this little game of his all worthwhile.

She notices, of course. She always does.

“Mistletoe?” she questions him, crossing her arms across her chest. The action only accentuates her décolletage and Adrien’s mouth begins to water, “Really?”

He doesn’t even bother trying to answer. Instead, he takes her by the waist and kisses her senseless.

Santa Claus is Comin’ To Town - Bruce Springsteen

Chat Noir grins widely and drops his enormous bag of toys onto the floor just outside of the elevator. He shares a private look with Ladybug, one full of apology for the deluge of children galloping down the hall in their direction, and opens his arms with a laugh.

“HO HO HO!” he hollers with excitement, completely and utterly attacked by children who are so excited to see him that they can hardly contain themselves. Ladybug scoops the toys out of the way just as her partner is thoroughly taken down by the rabid pack and laughs as they tug on his fake beard and Santa hat.

He manages to extricate himself eventually and toddles around the hospital ward with an enthusiastic flock of enamoured children in tow. Santa Noir delivers a personalized gift to each child stuck in the children’s hospital over the holidays and poses for selfies by the thousands while Ladybug follows behind, laughing as he regularly whips out his best impressions of Santa himself. 

And then he starts to sing.

“You better watch out,” he wags his finger, much to the children’s delight, “You better not pout! You better not cry, I’m telling you why. Santa Claws is coming to town!”

A hundred voices chime in for the chorus, waving jingle bells and laughing as Chat performs the latest Fortnite dance for them. It’s embarrassing and hilarious and honestly? 

Ladybug has never been more in love.

River - Robert Downey Jr.

He’s never told a soul, and so long as he knew, no one had been around when he’d finally lost his composure and cried.

He’d collapsed onto his haunches and wept out loud into his palms, frustrated and upset and drowning in a myriad of emotions he can’t categorize without losing anymore of his precious sanity. Why was he out here again? Why was he wasting his time – again – for someone who couldn't even spend a moment of his Christmas Eve to be with his son?

Oh right. 

Because that someone was his father.

He’d cried harder, heaving into the night air without being able to stop himself. 

Why did Maman have to go away?

Step Into Christmas - Elton John

Marinette giggles as Adrien grabs her hands and swings her around her parent’s living room, dancing the night away. The Christmas bops playing off of Marinette’s Spotify playlist are just the thing to convince her to get off the couch after way too much turkey and join him in a little Santa Samba around the Christmas tree.

“Stoooop,” she laughs, not really meaning it as he wraps one arm around her body and captures her hand in his, “Maman’s taking videos of us.”

“For the wedding!” Sabine coos as Adrien spins her in a gentle underarm pirouette and Adrien can’t help but grin.

“Come on Marinette,” Adrien pulls back and shimmies to the jazzy jam, “You can’t deny the chemistry between us.”

“We’re engaged, you doofus,” Marinette scolds him fondly, squeaking as he pulls her back into his chest, “Of course we have chemistry.”

“Which is why we need to practice dancing,” Adrien slots his feet between hers and leads her into a dizzying spiral of turns, “And what better time to do it than on Christmas Eve with my favourite people?”

“Flaterer,” Marinette shakes her head as Tom cheers from the kitchen.

“Dip her! Dip her!”

“NONONO!”

Adrien can’t deny his future father-in-law, now can he? With a side splitting laugh, Adrien lunges forwards and gracefully lowers the love of his life in his arms, pausing only to wink at the camera.

Santa Tell Me - Ariana Grande

Marinette holds her favourite picture of Adrien to her chest and sighs as the latest Gabriel holiday commercial plays on repeat in the background. Adrien stares in awe up at the snow that cascades from the sky, surrounded by Christmas decorated in black and white baubles and metallic ornaments. It’s for another perfume line, this one heavy on frankincense and ginger, and Marinette just wants to bury her face in the crook of Adrien’s perfectly popped collar and drink him in.

He’s perfect.

She would do anything to go on a date with him right now. They could go to the Christmas market together, hand in hand, or sip on hot chocolate in front of a crackling fire. They could decorate gingerbread cookies in her bakery and then go to the annual Christmas Tree Lighting Ceremony together so they could kiss under the fairy lights!

They would be amazing together.

Marinette checks her calendar and sees that Adrien has a packed schedule of modelling and extracurriculars for the foreseeable future and shrugs, still holding onto hope. Maybe, with just a little bit of luck on her side, she could admit her true feelings and fall in love this Christmas…

All I Want For Christmas Is You - Mariah Carey

Three seconds in the same room with her and he’s practically on the floor, on his knees, head spinning from the sheer emotion of it all. He’d just walked in on her pulling her beautiful, gorgeous black hair out of her ponytails for the mayor’s Christmas Party at Le Grand Paris and thought he’d died and gone to heaven.

Her blue eyes were like the ocean.

Her legs went on for miles.

He pines for her like a puppy. He’d do anything for her.

(He bets she tastes like strawberries.)

“Face it,” Rena Rouge mutters, nudging Ladybug lightly with her elbow. Ladybug glances over in the direction her fellow heroine is pointing and sighs, tugging her bangs in front of her eyes in embarrassment, “He’s got it bad.”

Facing her lovestruck partner, Ladybug takes a weary breath and simply surrenders, “Don’t remind me.”

You’re a Mean One, Mr. Grinch - Thurl Ravenscroft

Ladybug and Chat Noir exchange glances across the battleground, grinning like Cheshire cats in the gloom. She grips her yoyo in her palm, squeezing the unbreakable spotted material with her fingers. Chat fiddles idly with the base of his baton, his confidence boosted tenfold.

“I’m sorry, Bugaboo,” he drawls, his glowing eyes mischievous, “Could you repeat that?”

“Of course, Kitty,” she replies, equally as sardonic, “I was just discussing how fun it would be to go cataclysme Le Papillon’s head off. After ruining Christmas Day for everyone in Paris, don’t you think he deserves it?”

Standing within the ruins of the mansion’s west wing, the villain in question starts stepping backwards slowly, only to be impeded by a gigantic hunk of plaster clipping him in the back of the knees. The butterfly Miraculous wielder falls backwards onto his backside as the murderous duo stand over him, their expressions identical.

“Stop!” Le Papillon cries, raising his palms in surrender, “I’m doing this for her! For Émilie!”

“Don’t bring Maman into this,” Chat Noir hisses, spinning his baton in the light of the fire. A few years ago, Adrien might have surrendered then and there. But now?

Now he had his new family to protect.

“Shall I do the honours?”

Chat smiles and motions with his arm invitingly, eyes grazing his fuming fiancé, “The honours all yours.”

Whisking her yoyo’s string around with a cracking thwack so loud even Chat can’t help but wince, his heavily pregnant partner brings her magical weapon down on Le Papillon’s head with a crunch.

Christmas In New York - Lea Michelle

Marinette Dupain-Cheng squares her shoulders and grins widely, stepping out through the revolving doors of the Four Seasons Hotel in New York City. The thrill of life in the Big Apple fills her heart with excitement as she spins around and waves at the doorman.

“Merry Christmas, Miss Dupain-Cheng!”

“Merci!” she chimes, smiling at him over her shoulder. There’s a limousine waiting for her out front and the chauffeur opens the back door as she approaches, taking her gloved hand in his so she doesn’t trip, “Are we headed to work, Miss Dupain-Cheng?”

Marinette offers him a cheeky grin, “Can we get stuck in traffic for an hour or two? I need to do a little shopping for my friends and family before I fly home.”

“Of course,” her chauffeur dips his head, his own smirk hidden by his impressive mustache, “I suppose the traffic must be terrible near Fifth Avenue at this time of day.”

“I agree,” Marinette settles into the leather seats of the stretch limo and relishes in the butterflies fluttering in her stomach. She’s so excited to return to Paris after two wonderful weeks overseas working with the crème de la crème of the American fashion world, no thanks to her business with Jagged Stone. She’s walked through a festively decorated Central Park and taken selfies from the top of the Rockefeller Centre. She’s even watched the Rockettes perform their high flying kicks at Radio City and visited the Macy’s Christmas window display! The city that never sleeps hasn’t disappointed her in the slightest, especially draped in the red and greens of Christmastime.

She passes by beautiful holiday trees and flickering fairy lights as they weave their way through Manhattan and, although she can’t wait to hug her Maman and Papa at the airport in just a few more days, she’s already planning her next Christmas in New York.

Bring Me Love - John Legend

Sliding across his apartment floor in his Christmas socks, Adrien clutches a banana in his hand and sings into the stem with all the excitement and enthusiasm of a man who’s about to rock his fiancé’s world. He wiggles his hips and kicks his free leg, boogying down to the saxophone and bass and he is feeling fabulous, the tree is looking fabulous and everything is absolutely fabulous. Marinette would be thrilled with his decorating skills, especially since he’s been left to his own devices for the past two weeks while she’s been away on business. She’ll be landing in Charles du Gaulle in just a few short hours and Adrien has cookies baking in the oven (dough courtesy of Tom, of course) and mistletoe hanging over the doorway. All he needs to make his Christmas homecoming a success would be having his beautiful, successful, gorgeous fiancé by his side.

If only Santa would bring her home faster!

He’s put on his Rudolph boxers for the special occasion and bops his shower soggy hair to the beat, letting it fly everywhere. It might be -8℃ outside but it’s toasty warm inside their little flat in Le Marais and Adrien intends to put the love in their lovenest tonight.

He drops it low and snaps, spinning around on the balls of his feet. He feels amazing and there’s adrenaline and an irrepressible joy surging through his veins as he hops onto the cushions of the couch and channels his inner Beyoncé, howling the high notes with all his might. He can’t hold in his love any longer and leaps off the furniture with a karate kick, landing in a crouch only to pop back up again with a pirouette that would have put his alter ego’s talents to shame.

A giggle from the kitchen leaves him skidding in his tracks.

“Who’s there?”

Her face half hidden by her mittens, a thoroughly amused Marinette steps into the colourful glow of the Christmas tree, “Are you wearing Rudolph boxers?”

Adrien, for all intents and purposes, has never been happier to hear the love of his life critique his undergarments, “MARINETTE!”

“Hey Kitt—mmpf!”

Capturing her lips in a bruising kiss, Adrien drops his banana and spins her around in a searing embrace that leaves them both dizzy and breathless. When he finally sets her back down onto the floor, Marinette is thoroughly smitten with her fiancé all over again.

“Miss me?” he asks, peppering every centimetre of exposed skin with kisses, “Because I thought I was going to wither away to nothing if you were gone for another minute.”

“I missed you,” Marinette’s knees quiver as he undoes her winter coat and throws it onto the kitchen counter behind them, “I missed you so much.”

“Oh my god, your voice,” Adrien wraps his arms around her waist and buries his face in her neck, “Your smell, your skin, your hair, your lips. You are never leaving for that long ever again without me.”

Marinette laughs and Adrien soaks in the beautiful sound, “Deal.”

“Good,” Adrien says, still damp and half naked, “How did I do?”

He gestures to the decorations draped all over their studio apartment and Marinette feels her heart stutter beneath the absolute flood of emotion thudding through her chest, “You did amazing, Adrien. It looks beautiful.”

“Thank you,” he kisses her again, “Christmas must have come early because all I wished for was you.”

Pressing their foreheads together, Marinette boops him on the nose, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year everyone!

💋Bronte

[lifeinahole27]

Fic Bits 2019

Well, this is a little later than I usually post these, but I’m sure we can all agree that it’s been a hell of a year already. All posted in one go because I had a lot of trouble writing during this last round and did the absolute best I could. I hope you all enjoy!!

Included in this pack:

“Scream and Shout” - Emma wants to find out if mindreading is real. 

“A Regular Pair of Grinches” - They’re mostly impartial to each other, but their friends want them to be more than that. 

Lethologica: Behind the Scenes - Conversations that happen when our lovers aren’t around. 

My Eyes, They Speak for Me: The continuation I always wanted to write but never did.

On the Two: A Peek into the Future - So fluffy and sweet it’ll make your teeth rot.

“A Long Time Coming” - Every year, I write a Frozen Jewel bit for @xpumpkindumplingx because I love her and I know how much she loves them. This year was no different. Sprinkles of CS included so it can be enjoyed by all!

“Scream and Shout”

It’s not that she really believes in the supernatural powers that people claim to have. There’s no definitive proof. People go on talk shows and spout stories but the most they do is a “demonstration” that could easily be some rehearsed nonsense that she chooses to reject as reality.

But the strangest thing keeps happening at work. In the bullpen in her office, she keeps a running monologue of jokes or comments, things she thinks to herself but doesn’t say out loud to anyone because the last thing she wants or needs is HR on her ass. Twice now she’s noticed after particularly amusing comments to herself, she’s heard chuckling across the way. But it has to be a coincidence. She doesn’t believe in telepathy. Doesn’t believe in any of this stuff.

But just for fun, she starts to keep track of the timing. She keeps track of who’s in the room when it happens. And she decides to test some theories. She tries talking to whoever may be listening, but there’s no answer. She tries thinking numbers to see if anyone gets frustrated or loses their concentration.

Finally, she’s standing at the water cooler one day and she goes for the big one: in her mind, she screams as loud as she can –

And there it is. Killian flinches. Killian. The man she’s had an office crush on since he started working here three months ago.

But how can she get him to admit it?

It’s not like she can just walk up to him and ask if he’s a telepath – not without sounding rude, or admitting that she was the one that just screamed in his head. So she bides her time and tries to put it behind her.

It isn’t until one day when they’re getting ready to leave that she has a chance to prove it. They’re the last ones in the office, so Emma starts asking Killian to bring her something from his side of the office.

“Sure, Swan. Do you need the hole-punch as well?”

When he looks around, Emma is nowhere to be seen. His shoulders slump, and he sighs.

“Fine. I’m sorry. I swear I don’t do it all the time, but you come in loud and clear in my head for some reason.”

Emma steps out from around the wall she was hiding behind on the other side of the room. “Why’s that?”

“Probably because I’ve fancied you since the first time I saw you,” he says, pausing and rubbing a spot behind his ear. “Well, when you stopped yelling at me for queueing before you in the copy line.”

“Can you hear me all the time?”

“No. I actively try not to listen, but when I’m not listening to music while working, your comments and jokes come out loud and clear above the rest of our coworkers.”

She wanders a little closer, propping against the cubicle wall as he drops back into his chair. “That sounds awful, actually.”

“Not when it’s you,” he admits quietly, chancing a look up at her. “But only when you aren’t screaming.”

It’s Emma’s turn to look sheepish for once.  “Sorry. I just… I needed to find the proof.”

“Please forget I ever asked if the answer is no, but would you like to grab coffee? You could pick my brain… so to speak.”

For once, Emma takes the chance and says yes.

After a year of dating, he still sometimes listens to her thoughts, but this time he has her permission. At least he gets it loud and clear when she starts hinting that he should propose.

The ring is just as she imagined and everything.

-x-

“A Regular Pair of Grinches”

They’re not really friends – not in a traditional way, anyway. They met through mutual friends and were always the solo ones, so they had to form a friendship so their friends would stop trying to shack them up with each other.

It’s only at mutual functions that they see each other, though, never going out of the way to see each other beyond what their friends put together and invite them to.

During the Christmas party, they get sick of everyone trying to line them up under the mistletoe. Emma is the one that suggests the heist, and Killian goes right along with the plan. When everyone else is occupied with a story that Emma is telling them, he reaches up and snags the little sprig and shoves it in his pocket.

Twelve minutes later (they timed it, after all) Snow realizes her precious little plan has come undone.

Of course, everyone immediately realizes it was Emma and Killian, and they’re soon banished to another room for being general Grinches during the season.

“Maybe if they hadn’t tried this like a million times,” Emma grouses as she flops onto the couch in their “prison.”

“For some reason, Swan, we’re the only ones that seem to realize we are adults with agency and we can choose to do whatever we’d like.”

“Hell yeah we are!” At this statement, Emma produces a bottle of rum from where she’d stashed it away earlier.

“Have I ever told you that I adore you?” Killian asks as he reaches for the bottle.

“Not everyone can be this pretty and a genius. You’re welcome.”

It’s somewhere after the fourth shot that they end up next to each other on the couch, with Emma’s legs thrown over Killian’s lap and his hand gently resting on one of her shins.

It’s after the sixth shot that they end up snuggled together spooning on the – admittedly, very comfortable – couch.

It’s when they wake up that Killian digs the mistletoe out of his pocket and stares at it in the dim light of morning.

And it’s when Emma wakes up and sees him holding it above their heads that she reacts, turning his face towards hers and kissing him with everything she’s got.

They’ve both got morning breath and she’s sure her makeup is fucked up beyond repair, but the way he’s holding her makes her feel… cherished. She’s not sure she’s ever felt that way before.

When they break apart, they’re both smiling. This is normally where Emma would run, but there’s something about it being Killian that stops her from doing that.

It’s only later that they realize that they were covered with a blanket, realizing Snow must’ve come in and tucked them in at some point.

Sure enough, she looks like a cat that got the cream when they finally make it in for breakfast.

The next time they share a bed, it’s actually a bed, and there are a lot less clothes involved.

They’re not really friends – they’re more like… lovers.

-x-

Lethologica: Behind the Scenes

Of course everyone knows long before the wedding where Emma and Killian blatantly make out in the middle of the reception hall. This stems from Mary Margaret and Ruby speculating over their girl-date coffees one day.

Ruby asks pretty early on: “Have you noticed anything weird about Emma and Killian?”

“Oh, thank god I’m not the only one,” Mary Margaret breathes out, making sure to lower her voice as she continues. “I think they’re sneaking around behind our backs.”

“How long?”

“So Killian came to the diner one day with this look and Emma was too smug about something.”

“They’ve been a lot more affectionate on nights out. They hide it really well but they’re almost always touching.”

“Didn’t they always touch before?”

“It has a different feel to it, Mary Margaret. Can’t you see it?”

“I can see it. But do you think they can see it?”

They stare at each other for a solid ten seconds before they both burst out laughing, thankful for the secluded corner of the little coffee house they go to when they don’t want to go to Granny’s.

“Nope,” Ruby says.

“Not a chance. How long do you think before they realize they’re in love?”

“No clue, but it’ll probably take something small to push them over the edge. They’re really just…” she trails off, seeing David approaching and knowing that he doesn’t need to know anything about this yet. “A couple of potatoes with the recipe.”

“What?”

“You making something new for dinner?” David asks as he leans down and places a kiss to the crown of Mary Margaret’s head.

“Oh! Uh, yeah. Ruby was telling me about this… potato recipe.”

“I love potatoes. Twice baked?”

“Probably by now,” Ruby mutters, causing Mary Margaret to choke on the sip of her coffee.

“Something like that. You’ll see tonight,” she says when she clears her airway. Since Ruby is already occupied on her phone, Mary Margaret can only assume that she’s trying to find interesting potato dishes to send along.

After witnessing the clear intimacy between Emma and Killian at the dining out, Ruby sends Mary Margaret a text message.

“THE POTATOES ARE MASHED! I REPEAT! THE POTATOES ARE MASHED!!”

“I JUST GOT ENGAGED!!” comes the reply right after, which causes an entirely different freak-out in Ruby.

The night ends, and as Ruby and Mulan head back to their room, Ruby holds on to Mulan’s hand tightly.

“David and Mary Margaret got engaged tonight,” Ruby says quietly in the stillness of the hallway. “And we now have proof that Emma and Killian are together.”

“Everyone is going to get hurt when the orders become official,” Mulan says, keying into their room and closing the door firmly behind Ruby.

Ruby turns and kicks off her shoes, but Mulan is right behind her, spinning her and resting her cheek against her girlfriend’s shoulder.

“You’ll help him get through the deployment, yeah?”

“You know I will,” Ruby responds, wrapping her arms around Mulan and already planning how to tackle this next hurdle in all their lives.

-x-

My Eyes, They Speak for Me: After

Returning to Storybrooke is not exactly the weirdest thing that’s happened in her life lately. She did defeat her ex-boyfriend after he turned into a flying monkey, after all.

No, the only thing that makes their return weird is the fact that she and Killian are dating.

That she has to explain to her parents that she and Captain Hook have formed a bond that she never even thought possible. Especially not after everything she’s been through in her life.

But here they are, entering the town, with Henry oblivious to the weight hovering over the adults in the front seat. Emma holds onto Killian’s prosthetic hand like it’ll make everything better. She doesn’t even know if her parents are going to remember her.

Thankfully, they do.

Everyone remembers everything that happened before Pan’s curse. But there’s a whole missing year. All they knew is for the last couple months they’ve been here, still trying to figure out what happened, unable to find out in any way if Emma was alive and okay, and just… stuck in limbo.

Also, her mother is very pregnant. Like, about to burst pregnant. And has a creepy midwife with fiery red hair and a weird personality. Like some kind of twisted Mary Poppins.

Emma’s the first one to figure out that she’s the Wicked Witch. She did not anticipate the whole angle where Zelena is Regina’s sister, but she can appreciate the fact that she never thought the family tree around here would get more fucked up.

She has a thought several times while they’re trying to track down this crazy witch that she should just take Henry and Killian and high-tail it back to NYC. And she and Killian actually argue about it at one point, because she is convinced that after this is all over she just wants a normal life with her son and her boyfriend.

That’s not so much to ask, is it?

But then she’d have to leave her parents behind, and when it becomes clear that Zelena is after the newborn that is expected soon, Emma decides she can’t leave.

And then the whole Neal incident happens and that is a lot to take in, and try to explain to Henry who still doesn’t have his memories back.

When Zelena is finally locked away in a cell in the psychiatric ward, and after they’ve taken the time to officially lay Neal to rest, Emma sits down with Henry. Thankfully, Regina finally came through with a memory potion, so it makes it all a little easier, but Emma still has to talk to him about what losing his father for real this time means, and how they’re going to move forward.

It turns out when there are flying monkeys and another story come to life, it’s easy to explain to your parents that you’re dating a pirate. And while eventually she’d like to get her own place (story of her life) she does give up the bigger room at Granny’s in favor of moving into a smaller one with Killian.

Just for now.

They do have all the time in the world to get to the next step.

Until a portal opens up where their final battle with Zelena took place and she and Killian are the ones to check it out…

-x-

On The Two: A Peek into the Future

Five years later, they’re married and move home to Storybrooke after they have a beautiful daughter that they name after the camp. Emma and Ruby have both moved on from dancing at the hotel to pursue other interests.

Emma has gone back to teaching. She gives lessons in Storybrooke to locals and tourists, and still teaches every summer at Camp Hope.

Killian is also teaching, on top of his general maintenance jobs with David. He went back for certifications to teach classes on managing addictions, specifically an unhealthy relationship with alcohol, and he also talks with amputees and their friends and loved ones about how to cope with the loss of a limb.

He and Emma do a schedule of week on/week off at camp so that Hope is with one of them as often as possible.

Sometimes, they both stay home for a week with David and Snow’s son, Leo, and they contemplate having another of their own as they watch Hope playing and exploring – they’d love to see what she would do with a sibling of her own. Mostly they haven’t yet because they know they’ll officially have to give up the loft in order to live comfortably.

Other weeks, David and Snow take both the kids and Emma and Killian stay at the campsite.

They use those weeks to pretend they aren’t actively trying for another baby but there’s still a trill to sneaking out on the back balcony of the Owners’ Lodge, making love with the sight of the horizon and the ocean as their passion ebbs and flows.

Emma sometimes still can’t believe how her life has come together.

She wakes early one morning to the soft strains of a song they’ve used for the Waltz before, and she eases out of the bed upstairs, careful not to make a single noise so she can see what her husband is up to.

He’s standing in the middle of the floor on the other side of the breakfast bar, Hope in his arms, gliding through the steps and dramatically dipping Hope to her obvious delight.

She’s so happy that she lets out a high-pitched giggle, pressing her little hands to Killian’s cheeks.

He laughs quietly, bracing her against his body with his other arm so he can hold his finger to his lips to remind her to stay quiet.

As quietly as she can, she slips back to the bed to get her phone off the charger, crawling back over to brace under the handrail to take video of the two of them.

When the song ends, she locks her phone and stands up to applaud, even giving a little whistle of appreciation.

“Your mum’s awake, little love.”

“And she’s pregnant,” Emma says, probably far too bluntly since she actually hears Killian’s neck crack with how swiftly he turns his head to look up at her.

“Aye?”

“Yep. Calling the doctor today to confirm it. But yeah.”

“Why don’t we go into the kitchen to make your mum a perfect breakfast, hmm?” He turns to look up at her again, making sure their eyes are locked. “I love you,” he tells her, heart in his expression.

“I love you, too,” she says back, quietly, and while Hope has no idea what’s even being said, she goes off on a string of “la la la” to tell them each she loves them.

-x-

“A Long Time Coming” 

There’s a camaraderie that comes from having rich guardians that want nothing to do with you, and that’s what the Arendelle sisters and the Jones brothers find out after their first Christmas in the Alps.

Elsa is sixteen when she and Killian discover that with their combined efforts, they can raise havoc at the ski resort. From that point on they are BFFs.

Three years of their antics go by quickly, and the staff at the lodge becomes their family more than Brennan Jones or Ingrid ever could be.

Liam is a constant wise source of guidance. Anna is always the annoying little sister. Killian wears his heart on his sleeve at all times. Elsa… has a problem.

She has a ridiculous, unquenchable crush on Liam. When she was 17 it was just a silly little thing, but by the time she’s 20, it’s no longer “just” anything. But the seven year age gap makes her think that Liam probably thinks of her as more as a little sister than anything else.

The years pass and they grow, year by year, milestone by milestone. Killian is Kristof’s best man at his and Anna’s wedding. Elsa is the one that almost literally drops Emma in Killian’s lap when she sees the potential they could have together. Year after year, though, things are never in line for her own love life.

She dates, with mixed results, but there’s no spark that makes them last.

Over the course of ten years, they all bounce around each other. They handle love and disasters, heartbreak and celebrations. And still Elsa feels like she’s just a satellite around Liam at some of these events. She only really ever sees him during the holidays unless there’s a big event in their lives, so at least she has those times to look forward to. But mostly it’s to watch from afar as they each dwell in their own relationships.

She’s single when he’s not, he’s single when she’s not.

And then she turns twenty-eight. And she’s single. And he’s single. And they’re in the same place at the same time which is all feeling a lot like a miracle when she can’t remember the last time this even happened. And someone has posted mistletoe in the entrance of their cabin this year.

She’s pretty sure it was Killian, because he’s getting ready to propose to Emma and they’re adorably (if not sickeningly) in love.

On a return trip from the main lodge to grab dinner for everyone, she finds the cabin empty… or at least so it seems. Because Liam is waiting to help her bring in the food. He’s standing in the doorway.

Directly beneath the mistletoe.

She doesn’t know which one goes for it first, but the food gets left on the entryway table while they make out beneath a dumb piece of greenery.

It’s Emma that finds them snuggled on the couch about a half hour later, with Liam planting a small, gentle kiss on her lips. Her smile is self-satisfied, and knowing, and she subtly ushers everyone else out of the room to eat their dinners and leave Elsa and Liam in peace.

It’s Killian later on who tells her that Liam’s had eyes for her for years. But the timing was never right.

So the mistletoe was definitely planted by him, but intended for Liam and Elsa.

The next year they go, there’s a shiny ring on Emma’s finger, Anna announces she and Kristof are expecting, and Elsa and Liam celebrate their anniversary.

All in all, while they all have tragedy in their pasts, they turn out right where they need to be.

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 242: SANTA IS REAL

Previously on BnHA: We said farewell to the League of Pliff and were finally reunited with the kids of U.A., an institution which I would just like to point out is so diametrical to the League that they literally took the polar opposite route when choosing their name, and focused only on the acronym. I’m 100% sure U.A. doesn’t even stand for anything. Anyway, so Bakugou and Todoroki went on whirlwind press tour following their ch 219 antics, and the resulting interviews were so disastrous that Aizawa decided to bring in Mt. Lady to give the whole class a crash course in PR 101. Meanwhile All Might scoured Ancestry.com for info on the past users of OFA, and Rat Principal announced that U.A. was going to resume its internship program. This is great news for Deku, who’s been taking his sweet time mastering Blackwhip. Like, we’re not even talking baby steps here so much as little tiny flea steps. Kid’s going to need all the help he can get.

Today on BnHA: Horikoshi targets all of my weak points at once. The My OT3 Academia arc gets off to an incredible, award-winning start with a Christmas party and the announcement of Internships 2: This Time, it’s Compulsory. Highlights include: (1) Kaminari and Mina forcing Bakugou to accept the spirit of Christmas into his heart and soul, (2) Iida rocking a Santa beard, (3) Eri holding a giant sword, (4) Bakugou reminiscing about his internship with Best MIA Jeanist, specifically the part where Jeanist was all “A HERO’S NAME IS REALLY IMPORTANT AND SYMBOLIC AND MEANINGFUL, SO YOU NEED TO THINK VERY CAREFULLY ABOUT IT” and oh my fucking god, and lastly (5) Todoroki inviting Bakugou and Deku to come intern with him at the Endeavor Hero Agency (known for its famous business slogan: “Got Plot?”). It’s like I wished on seventeen different falling stars and they all came true at once. I still can’t even fucking process this. kfkdslgk.

(All comments are my unspoiled reactions from my initial readthrough of the chapter. I did a quick edit for grammar and clarity immediately afterward, and added a few ETAs in the process, but aside from that there are no changes.)

I just got like three excited-seeming asks (I haven’t actually read them yet) in rapidfire succession less than an hour ago, and my dashboard is now filling up with filtered “bnha spoilers” posts, so I took this as a sign that I should read the new chapter ASAP. oh gosh

(ETA:

(1) SAMEEEEEE, and (2) YEEEEEEEEP. listen I’m not religious you guys, but I said “oh my god” so much while reading this chapter that I wouldn’t be surprised if he or she finally answers and is like, “YES!? WHAT IS IT???”)

what new state-of-the-art tomfoolery will our intrepid heroes engage in this week. what novel hijinks will they commence. what frivolous escapades will they embark on this lovely Friday morn?

HOMGAAAHHHHHH

THE TITLE IS LITERALLY MY FEELINGS RN. MERRY FUCKING CHRISTMAS TO ME. YES GOD I LOVE IT. I’LL TAKE A DOZEN

okay. so today, September 6th, is officially Christmas. you heard the man and who am I to argue

so we’re opening with a teacher’s meeting! probably about the internships. or the fact that they’re all screwed. I don’t really know what their priorities are nowadays

okay yeah it’s about the internships. also Rat Principal is nested in Aizawa’s scarf for absolutely no reason, and Aizawa is disgruntled about it. heh. tomfoolery already and it’s only the first panel

oh shit, Nezu’s saying it’s now a government requirement. I got so surprised I actually forgot to call him RP

because ain’t nothing safer than hero internships. if the Basement arc taught us nothing else. it’s that

that was sarcasm in case that’s not coming across. this is clearly a baffling decision. but what are government committees for if not for making baffling decisions I guess

and now Midnight is coming to the same conclusion I was starting to wonder at

can someone please tell me what the PSC’s goals actually are, then? is this not the same group that recently changed the rules of the provisional license exam so that an even smaller percentage of people would pass? so do you want more heroes or fewer? which is it?

how do they cope with it? does anyone even have any idea?? it seems to me like they’re just throwing them to the wolves. we have this problem that we have absolutely no idea what to do about, oh I know, let’s toss a bunch of inexperienced kids at it. and hope that none of them gets murdered I guess

anyway so The Sheriff is speculating that the League must have been involved in the Deika situation, and he’s wondering why the PSC is trying so hard to keep it on the dl

oh yeah. friendly reminder that the PSC, thanks to Hawks, probably knows exactly how powerful Tomura and the League have recently become. so they know full well how shark-infested the waters are, and they’re making it mandatory for the kids to all take swimming lessons. nice

lol back when I was brainstorming ideas for future arcs, I seriously thought Horikoshi would have to go out of his way to come up with excuses for the kids to have future encounters with the League, because the school was so concerned with their safety that they wouldn’t allow them to leave the grounds except on rare occasions. well I sure got that one wrong. though to be fair, for once it isn’t U.A. that’s doing the child endangering here

(ETA: and actually, regardless of how insane it is, I do appreciate that when shit inevitably hits the fan again, at least it won’t be U.A.’s fault this time. I’d like to be able to continue rooting for them, and that can be difficult when they keep doing reckless things that needlessly put children in danger. at least this time they’re not the ones driving the Stupid Bus to Bad Decision School.)

a message to who? the League?? “we’re not scared of you”?? did they seriously not think of all the numerous ways this could backfire?

oh shit Aizawa even went and said the d-word

well there you have it. the government is drafting teenagers to risk their lives dealing with a crisis they won’t out-and-out admit they’re actually having. on today’s episode of “Oh Hero Society, You’ve Got Problems”

anyway so RP is making the admittedly good point that “we’re fucked and everyone is in terrible danger” is hardly a new state of affairs for them these days, and so they’re all moving on. okay then. good talk. lol. gonna need my damn Christmas fluff after all of that

and also RP is mentioning some other mysterious new program to Aizawa too. I wonder what that could be

(ETA: oh yeah I almost forgot about this. thoughts??)

and now we’re cutting to “several days later” oh my god. it’s really happening. I need a moment here, I’m not even ready. gotta get all my Christmas headcanons lined up here. Satou baking cookies. Kaminari and Sero running around arm in arm singing “JINGLE BELLS, ALL MIGHT SMELLS” over and over at the top of their lungs until Bakugou screams at them to shut up. Mineta debating anyone who will listen over the merits of the song Baby It’s Cold Outside. the naturally Christmas-themed Todoroki savoring this, his time to shine

oh shit, we’re still with the fucking Rat Principal. for fuck’s sake

-- ooh but are they talking about the traitor??

will this put an end to the “Horikoshi forgot about it” rumors? several people have mentioned this to me here and there (sorry to everyone whose asks I still haven’t answered), but as far as I know, this was part of a fake interview with Horikoshi that was unfortunately circulated around as though it was the real deal. sometimes people are not cool and think it’s fun to take advantage of communities that are enthusiastic and trusting! always fact-check what you read on the internet just to be safe guys

anyway

so there definitely is one, then. got it

so the traitor is definitely a student in the hero class, then. got it

sob. I got an ask about the whole Kaminari traitor theory earlier this week, so I’m in the process of doing up a whole long post about that. but the cliff’s notes version is, it’s not him. it’s Hagakure. but I will actually go into detail in the post. it’s been a while since I’ve discussed the traitor thing in depth anyway

so RP is asking All Might if he’s coming back today, and All Might is immediately all “WHY, DID SOMETHING HAPPEN TO MY CHILD, OH GOD IS HE OKAY” which, omg. so much love for this man

and RP is like “geez relax” and OH MY GOD

[slaps on a paperboy cap and screeches at All Might in a bad cockney accent] TODAY, SIR?? WHY, IT’S CHRISTMAS DAY

OH MY GOD

I SPOT A GRINCH UP THERE AT THE TOP. SOMEONE NEEDS TO BE VISITED BY THREE GHOSTS FROM VARIOUS DIFFERENT TIME PERIODS

LITERALLY EVERY SINGLE CHILD (GREMLINS ASIDE) IS WEARING A SANTA CLAUS OUTFIT. DID U.A. JUST GIVE THESE OUT FOR FREE

AND IN THE TOP RIGHT NEXT TO SHOUJI, SATOU’S COOKIES! JUST AS THE PROPHECY FORETOLD

I SEE THEY HAVE THE REQUISITE KFC PLATTERS LIKE GOOD JAPANESE CITIZENS. WE SHOULD ADOPT THIS TRADITION HERE IN THE WEST TOO TBH

and last but not least, there are only nineteen children in this panel. it took me forever to figure out who was missing, but pretty sure it’s Iida. Iida where are you. clearly the traitor. certainly not off visiting his brother and the rest of his family, what kind of gullible fool do you take me for

looool

I love when the characters start to become self-aware that they’re the main characters in a story and that plot things keep happening to them at an unreasonable rate

oh my god they really are wearing the suits. it wasn’t just a title page gimmick like I half-wondered

ANSWER THE QUESTION, JIROU. INQUIRING MINDS WANT TO KNOW. do we even know where she did her first internship?? I suddenly desperately want to learn more about this

(ETA: she interned with Death Arms, the traffic cone-looking guy who notably chewed Deku out for trying to save Kacchan’s life in chapter one. Jirou my hope for you is that you find someone better this time around!)

also Tsuyu is observing that Momo doesn’t have a chair, and I honest-to-god was trying to count how much seating there was in the previous page. it seems to me like the common room got a lot bigger. it keeps adjusting to their needs like the room of requirement in Harry Potter

also does anyone else wish that Jirou would move her cup off of the armrest. IT’S GOING TO SPILL ffff :/ this is who I am at parties

oh shit wait, that was Iida with the beard?? I honestly thought that was Satou. well then Satou is the traitor. -- NOBODY TOUCH THOSE COOKIES!!

anyway so he’s all “well Deku not to bring up the elephant in the room but YOUR PREVIOUS MENTOR DIED A HORRIBLE DEATH so what’s your plan huh”

oh sweet god

listen, no offense to Centipeder, he seems like a really nice guy, but if I never see his repulsive face again I will count myself lucky

OH FOR FUCK’S

PLEASE GET RID OF IT IT IS CHRISTMAS!!! here I am trying to have a nice time and!!

god. and like, I feel bad, it’s not his fault he is A GIANT BUG and he has like, fucking mandibles and shit! but I can’t help the fact that my skin is trying to crawl off my body right now, and god but I can barely look at this panel long enough to read the dialogue sob why

(ETA: and now that I’ve forced myself to read it again, this doesn’t even make any sense lol. “we have too much work and not enough help, so we have to pass on you coming back to help us out. ...wait.”)

I want Iida to like. pat his lap and tell Deku in a big booming voice to cheer up and come sit and tell him what he wants for Christmas. not in a weird way you guys, come on. but just, he looks so forlorn. do you want Santa to bring you some cozy All Might socks

or wait, didn’t he want a PS Vita according to that one omake thing. what the fuck Deku. someone get this kid a Switch

anyway so Deku says that participation is mandatory this time, so the school will handle assignments if the kids aren’t able to find someone

meanwhile Kacchan is in the background accusing Mina of stalking him. I think she is trying to get him to wear his Santa outfit. doin’ god’s work

OH SHIT YOU GUYS I CLICKED TO THE NEXT PAGE, AND THIS. THIS IS MY CHRISTMAS OMFG

HORIKOSHI YOU DID GET MY LIST! BAKUGOU BEING TROLLED BY HIS SNEAKY DETERMINED FRIENDS AND MANHANDLED INTO A RIDICULOUS GETUP WHILST ANGSTING ABOUT BEST JEANIST BEING MISSING, YESSSSSS. IT’S SO SPECIFIC, I THOUGHT, “SURELY HE WON’T ACTUALLY DO IT,” BUT SANTA IS REAL, EVERYONE

HFMLSDKMGLKLKL!!!!!LKL:DSF

RED ALERT RED FUCKING ALERT PEOPLE!!! THIS IS NOT A DRILL!!! GET OUT OF THE WAY!!!!

AHHHHHHHHHH HOLY SHIT YOU GUYS

“MERRY CHRISTMAS MAKESTE HERE’S A WHOLE FUCKING CHAPTER ABOUT KACCHAN’S FUCKING HERO NAME COMPLETE WITH A BEST JEANIST META ON THE TOPIC” mother fucker I need to start reading these chapters with a goddamn life alert and a defibrillator on standby

“your name represents your wish.” ladies and gentlemen, introducing the new number one hero... Number One Hero!

heh. just kidding. “what do you want to become?” this, though. this right fucking here is why I’ve been dying to know what name he’ll actually choose. because it does reflect exactly what Jeanist is saying. whichever name he chooses will be an insight into who he is, and who he is trying to be

and this meta is making me rethink all my chapter 223 feels, and tbh now I’m back to thinking that it’s not going to be Ground Zero, unless he comes up with a cool reason for why that name ties in to the image of the person he wants to be (because right now, that particular name is tied more to the past than to the future). but oh my god, if he does choose the name Kacchan I am going to spontaneously combust. I will fucking do it. I will fucking die from being a dramatic excited bitch

(ETA: because. listen. there is one person who has always looked up to him in spite of everything and has always seen his potential. “in the end, in my mind, you’re the image of victory.” this, to me, is the meaning that the name “Kacchan” would have if he did choose it. it would symbolize him choosing to be his best self.)

don’t mind me I’m just stanning this child so fucking hard it hurts

(ETA: oh hey, and more feels on the reread because it looks like the reason he’s having this flashback is because he was planning to go back to Jeanist’s agency to do his real internship, and to show him how much he’s grown. but then The Thing happened. Hawks I just want to talk why won’t you answer my calls.)

Mina and Kaminari are the MVPs of this fucking chapter and I owe them my life omggggg. THEY’RE HERE TO SAVE CHRISTMAS

what are you thinking about there, Best Friend?

are you thinking about your daddy angst. penny for your thoughts

(ETA: “how can I cheer up my new best friend? I know, I’ll make him a lucrative job offer.” actually that’s a good way to cheer up just about anyone in this day and age, Shouto.)

okay, is there some sort of perverted context to Christmas that I’m totally missing here?? or is Mineta just really into the holiday spirit?

I feel like I missed something. eh

anyway Mr. Traitor himself is walking out now and HE’S BROUGHT THE CHRISTMAS GOOSE! or turkey! but goose sounded funnier

of all the things to be shocked about?? “SATOU CAN COOK!?!” like um yes hello you’ve been living with this guy for four months already? like the only thing more ridiculous than this would be, “TOKOYAMI IS A BIRD!?!”

(ETA: like I know baking and cooking are two different things, but in a manga they’re the same thing. fact.)

now someone is making a dramatic entrance! IS IT ERI I WILL DIE!!!! BRING IT

YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

I HEREBY SWEAR FEALTY TO THIS PANEL OF AN ADORABLY AND FESTIVELY DRESSED ERI MIXING UP HOLIDAYS WHILE DADZAWA PATIENTLY CORRECTS HER. I WILL PROTECT IT WITH MY LIFE. SOMEONE PLEASE TELL ME WHAT DID I DO TO DESERVE THIS CHAPTER SO THAT I CAN GO DO IT SOME MORE AGAIN, OVER AND OVER AND OVER

Ochako is me

(ETA: DEMONS OUT! DEMONS IN!! THAT’S WHAT IT’S ALL ABOUT!! YOU DO THE HOOOOOOOOKEY POKEY.)

and Kiri is out here asking the real questions, but sadly Aizawa says Mirio is spending Christmas with his own class. WELL FINE. I HOPE HE’S EXPERIENCING THE FOMO OF A LIFETIME. HOW DARE HE HAVE OTHER FRIENDS whatever I’m over it

sobbbbb

WELL HOW MANY FUCKING HOLIDAYS ARE THERE!? CAN SOMEONE HELP A GIRL OUT OR WHAT

oh my god I’m just going to reblog every single Dadzawa panel and none of you can stop me go on and try!!

impatiently waiting for fanart of Aizawa tucking Eri in and reading her A Visit from St. Nicholas. get on it, fandom

ohhhhhhhhh my goddddddd

I know it’s not a Christmas song, but I am this close to cranking up “I Gotta Feeling” by the fucking Black Eyed Peas. ya feel

do you guys see him sitting there next to Dadzawa. he finally gave in. Satou is feeding him chicken. his friends will not abandon him to be on the naughty list. motherfucker that’s it. I’m fucking doing it. fill up my cup. mazel tov

lol I don’t even want to click to any more pages because they’re all so happy and it won’t fucking last. :( noooo

good little boys and girls. noshing on that chicken. Kacchan continuing to be stalked by the Ghost of Christmas Friendship. Tokoyami what even is that. lol and is this their weird way of distributing random gifts. did Sero buy Jirou a scarf. did Deku buy Ochako a freaking All Might plush keychain!? FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, WHAT IS THAT THING AND WHY DOES ERI HAVE IT NOW AND WHY IS SHE MAKING THIS FACE

-- holy fuck, IT’S A SWORD. oh my god. THEY GAVE THE SEVEN YEAR OLD A FREAKING BUSTER SWORD AND SHE IS FEELING IT YESSSS THIS CHAPTER TRULY IS ALL MY DREAMS COME TRUE

“dad can I keep it.” Aizawa: [not even opening his eyes, all bundled up in his oogie boogie suit] “sure”

so now we’re cutting to afterwards and everyone’s cleaning up and Deku’s using his freakish super strength to lift heavy things impressively while Bakugou continues to stomp around with his hands shoved into his pockets waiting for someone to finally tell him he can go back upstairs

OH???

motherfucker. are you going to invite them to come intern with you and your dad!!?!?? I know I was all set on Bakugou interning with Miruko just last week, but I TELL YOU WHAT BITCHES, I’M FUCKING FLEXIBLE LIKE THAT

OH SHIT YOU GUYS!!!!

TODOROKI ARE YOU PLAYING THE OT3 SONG BECAUSE HONEY YOU KNOW THAT’S MY JAM, BRO

OH FUCKING SHIT YESSSSS

BAKUGOU DO YOU WANT TO INTERN WITH YOUR TWO BEST FRIENDS, EXCUSE ME, HATED ENEMIES. DEKU DO YOU WANT TO INTERN WITH YOUR TWO BEST FRIENDS. AND THE NUMBER ONE. WHO JUST SO HAPPENS TO BE BEST FRIENDS WITH THE NUMBER TWO. WHO JUST SO HAPPENS TO BE BEST FRIENDS WITH TODOROKI “I DIDN’T HAVE A FLASHBACK IN THE LAST ARC BECAUSE WE WERE SAVING IT FOR THIS ONE!” TOUYA? THAT’S RIGHT, IT’S BEST FRIENDS ALL THE WAY DOWN. OH MY GOD

it’s like Horikoshi made a long and detailed list of all of his regrets about the previous internship arc, and then said, “fuck it. do-over”

you guys. I’m all out of cans. we only have can’ts and cannots. I cannot

Christmas fluff. Dadzawa. Bakugou hero name meta. hints that the traitor plot will soon be relevant again. and the motherfucking OT3 of OT3s, MY SONS, MY THREE RESPLENDENT OFFSPRINGS, interning together at the motherfucking Endeavor Hero Agency because Todoroki is the sweetest most considerate angel, and because KNOCK KNOCK, IT’S ME THE PLOT, I’VE COME FOR YOU AGAIN AT LONG LAST AND I VOW TO NEVER LEAVE YOU ALONE AGAIN FROM THIS MOMENT ON

shit, y’all. I don’t know if it’s possible for an arc to become my favorite motherfucking arc only two chapters in, but damned if this sunnuvabitch ain’t trying

[welllpthisishappening]

Want Something That Lasts Forever

The weight in his jacket pocket is getting heavier. Burning a hole. A metaphorical one. Because a literal one would probably freak David out and David is already worried enough and Killian is a very good friend. Who is willing to help David plan his proposal to Mary Margaret. Even if it messes everything else up in the process. 

----

Rating: T with a heavy dose of CC captain charming-esque feelz Word Count: Just over 5K AN: Today’s Festive Fic Prompt A Thon comes from another delightful anon and is: "i planned out this super romantic proposal and you just ruined it by beating me to whole proposing thing." I’ve already done proposing at the same time, so here’s something a little different with an extreme influx of Captain Charming for good measure. And Narnia. For reasons. 

|| Also on Ao3 if that’s how you roll || 

----

“You think we should get flowers?” Killian hums—far too distracted to be even remotely helpful and he doesn’t have to look up to know David is glaring at him. That’s been a theme for the last few hours. 

This has lasted several hours. 

Already. 

And he probably should have said no. 

He wanted to say no. He had every intention of saying now. But David and Mary Margaret had gotten to the city a few days before and David had that look this morning—some kind of wide-eyed, enthusiastic, nervous thing that made Killian exhale dramatically and he was agreeing before he realized what he was doing and Emma’s gaze had gone a little glossy when she realized what was happening. 

He considered that partially a win. 

Even if it lost him some friendship points.

“What kind of flowers do you think?” David presses, and Killian has to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from groaning. That’s also not great. As far as friendship goes. 

Because he figures this is pretty par for the friendship course. 

Helping. 

Planning. 

Helping to plan. 

A proposal. 

David is going to propose to Mary Margaret. At Christmas. And it will be extravagant and over the top and, Killian is sure, there will be several different types of flowers. Mary Margaret will very likely cry. 

She will definitely say yes. 

And that’s nice. It’s better than nice really, because Killian is only kind of an ass and something vaguely Grinch-like and the only reason for either one of those things is because—

“Seriously,” David snaps, Killian nearly flying off the couch when the word feels like it reaches out to smack him across the face. With romance. Of the holiday variety. “Are you ok?” “Yup.” “No, really.” “No, really,” Killian echoes, but David has known him long enough to know a blatant lie when he hears one. It probably does some slapping of its own. “Although I am admittedly a little confused by this we who is buying flowers. I’m not sure how I feel about donating to the monetary cause of your wedding.” “This is not the wedding.” Killian shrugs. 

“Do you have a romantic bone in your body?” David groans. That feels unfair. Killian doesn’t mention that. David is nervous enough already, he absolutely cannot cope with any sort of romance that involves Killian and his sister. 

Maybe Killian will start texting Emma updates of the day. She’d enjoy that. He’d enjoy that. He’d enjoy it more if he was with her and going through his own plans and his own vaguely Christmas-type hopes, but—

David appears to be growling. 

It’s very loud, whatever the sound is.

“Am I being a jerk about this?” David asks. He slumps forward when he mumbles the question, an obvious burst of nervous energy and Killian can’t help but feel for him. 

All things considered, proposing at any time is a little terrifying. But proposing at Christmas — with their friends coming into the city and long-standing traditions that require an almost excessive amount of eggnog and mulled wine is something entirely different.  

It requires a certain kind of romantic fortitude. 

And a best man who is willing to spend all day going over flower options. 

Killian assumes he’s going to be the best man at this wedding. 

He will look very good in a tux. And Emma will look better in a maid of honor dress. 

There’s the silver lining he’s looking for. 

“A little,” Killian admits, “but you’re also freaking out. So I’m willing to overlook the jerkiness of it.” “Is jerkiness a word?” “No.” “You think I’m freaking out?” “I’m also a little offended that you don’t think you’re freaking out.”

David sneers, dropping onto the edge of the coffee table. He nearly knocks Killian’s feet off in the process. “Flowers? Thoughts?” “Oh, are we speaking in one-word questions now? That might get old pretty quickly.” David rolls his eyes. And his whole head. 

Killian chuckles lightly, slumping further into the couch and the pinch in his lungs loosens just a bit. He can hear his phone vibrating in his pocket. It’s louder when it vibrates against everything else in there. 

“Poinsettias?” David asks. 

“They’re ugly aren’t they? Also I’m somewhere in the realm of seventy-two percent positive that they represent death.” “That’s not a very good grade.”

“You want me to look it up?” “Yes, I absolutely do.” Killian clicks his tongue, but he can still make out the buzz of his phone and he’s closer to one-hundred percent positive that it’s Emma. 

He’s right. 

“Hey,” Killian breathes into the phone, Emma’s soft laugh in his ear. He can feel his smile. That’s only vaguely ridiculous. Decidedly romantic, though. “Are poinsettias deadly?” She doesn’t answer immediately. And Killian assumes that’s because she’s blinking at open air in their kitchen where, per the schedule, she and Mary Margaret are slated to be baking for the majority of the afternoon. 

“Am I making that up?” Killian asks. “I feel like I'm making it up.”

David groans. “This is not helping my overall confidence!” “Swan, this is a very serious question about poinsettias, so if you’ve got any facts to share about the very ugly flower—” “Judgmental about poinsettias, aren’t we?” she mutters. Definitely smiling too. 

He can tell. 

What a weirdo. 

“What are your thoughts about poinsettias, love?” “Well, they’re ugly,” Emma says, and Killian can’t help whatever expression takes over his face. David looks like he’s trying not to lay across the entire coffee table. 

“I told you,” Killian cries. 

David flips him off. “Do you have a better Christmas flower suggestion?” “It’s not my proposal.” “Yeah, but you’re helping and—” David makes that noise again, head falling into his hands and Killian kind of feels bad. He’s still annoyed that his day has been commandeered, but he’s known David for years and he genuinely can’t remember a moment when he wasn’t head over heels for Mary Margaret, so—

He moves back into the living room, flicking his finger against David’s right wrist. “Holly? Is that a flower?” “No,” David and Emma answer at the same time before she adds, “Why is he freaking out, exactly? Also, is this not a dangerous conversation we’re having?” David mumbles something that sounds like an agreement, but Killian’s willing to be a bit selfish for a moment. And talk to his girlfriend. Flirt with his girlfriend. 

Still his girlfriend. 

Especially tonight. 

“Also,” Emma continues, voice dropping a bit, “poinsettias do not represent death.” David’s head finally jerks up, quick enough that Killian is briefly worried for the state of his neck, and Emma is not done. “They are, however, the victim of a long-standing urban legend that suggested they were poisonous. It lasted forever. In 1970 the FDA even published an actual pamphlet saying that one leaf could kill a kid.” “This is not great,” David grumbles. “How did they eventually decide that they weren’t deadly?”

“Uh—rats.” “Oh jeez.” “Did you say jeez?” Killian asks. “What year is it?” “The year of freaking out grooms,” Emma says. “That would suggest they’re getting married by the end of the year, though.” “Damn, that’s true.” “You two know I’m sitting here, right?” David sneers. Emma’s smile widens. Killian assumes. Knows, really. 

He resists the urge to walk back to his coat. And directly out the door. 

David is starting to look a little green. 

“I do have eyes, yes,” Killian nods. “And your middle finger is going to get stuck like that if you keep it in that position for too long.” Emma snickers. 

His heart may grow. It’s another Grinch-type joke. 

“God,” David huffs. “Ok, so, uh—poinsettias aren’t actually deadly, but Em, Em, seriously, how did you know that?” “He wants to talk to me now, does he?” Emma quips. “I do have to go back to distracting the future bride at some point.” “Don’t jinx it!” “Is he insane?” “He might be,” Killian answers. “What are you baking?” “Right now? Chocolate chip, but that’s only because—” “—How did you know about the poinsettias?” David yells. Killian is going to run out of parts of his mouth to bite by the end of the afternoon. 

“I know everything,” Emma answers simply, and he refuses to be held accountable for whatever that does to several different internal organs and the way his whole body surges forward when he laughs. 

David droops. Directly onto the coffee table. 

It is equally absurd and even more hysterical. 

“That can’t possibly be comfortable,” Killian muses. “Or good for your spine.” David flips him off. 

Third time’s the charm, or whatever. 

“Is he laying on something?” Emma asks knowingly, and Killian’s mouth is going to get stuck in perpetual smile. “I’m really worried about the lasting damage it’s going to have on his vertebrae.” “I can still hear you,” David growls. “Ok, no to the poinsettias, just—what time is it?” “Almost two o’clock.” He sighs. 

“You’re going to be late picking up the ring,” Emma mutters, only to gasp softly when she realizes what she’s said and the general proximity of Mary Margaret’s very well-tuned ears. “Ah, shit—David if you heard that, it’s fine, everything is fine and—Oh, hey M’s, you ready to keep baking?”

The green tinge in David’s cheeks grows more pronounced. 

And Killian can’t quite hear Mary Margaret’s answer, but it doesn’t sound entirely suspicious and he finds he’s nodding encouragingly at David’s prostrate body before he can come up with all the reasons why that’s not helpful at all. 

Emma’s still giving Mary Margaret assurances that it’s fine, everything is fine, no I’m just making sure Killian has —

“Champagne,” he suggests. 

She hums, a thank you without actually saying the words, and that’s probably for the best because Killian is fairly positive David would have rolled onto the floor if they made it anymore obvious they were up to something. Mary Margaret is probably making that face. 

With the eyebrow thing. 

She’s very good at lifting her eyebrows. And making everyone feel like they’re about to get detention. 

“Champagne,” Emma repeats. “We need champagne for later, right?” It sounds like Mary Margaret says yuh huh. That is decidedly un-Mary Margaret. 

Killian grimaces, a quick glance towards David and the arm he’s got splayed across his face now and he doesn’t really think before he starts talking again, but his mouth is moving and there are words coming out and— “We’ll see you later, ok, love?”

She makes another noise in the affirmative, a mumbled string of something that sounds a bit like get me my own bottle of champagne, but then Killian is stuffing his phone in his back pocket and ignoring the desire to look at his jacket again and the smile he forces on his feels a little strained. 

“Alright. Well, that went—” “—Terribly?” David asks. “Eh. We learned about poinsettias. That’s something, right?” “For what? Christmas trivia contests? Also did you think poinsettia had more t’s in it? It sounds like it should have more t’s.” “I’m genuinely starting to think you are going insane.” “Don’t we call it point-settia? Like that’s how you say it, right?” “This is the most ridiculous conversation we’ve ever had,” Killian says. “And we need to get your ring.”

“Yeah, that’s true.” “We’re starting to sound a little less enthused.” “Rats were poisoned, Killian.” He nods, lower lip stuck out and it’s only a little placating, but David hasn’t actually sat up yet, so maybe that’s exactly what he has to do. Friendship-wise. He’s very focused on the friendship aspect of this. 

Like it’s karma. 

For his own plans. 

God, that might lose him points too. 

“But not you,” Killian points out. “Or the presumed and eventual blushing bride. So, that’s something right?” David props himself up on his elbows. “You think she’ll blush?” “I think she’ll weep in extremely romantic fashion. Obviously. Seriously, are you not going insane?” “A little.” “Yeah, I figured. Ok, so aside from being stupid late to pick up your ring, what else do we have to do?” “Flowers. Maybe actually get champagne.” “That was a stroke of genius, right?” “Your girlfriend is incapable of lying.” Killian squeezes one eye shut. The word makes his stomach flip in quick succession. And if David weren’t slowly, but very obviously losing his mind, he would have noticed that. As it is, he just huffs out another bit of frustrated oxygen, hopping back to his feet and plastering his own fake smile on his face. 

“Alright,” he says, clapping Killian on the shoulder. “We need to get Turkish delight, too.” “I’m sorry, what?” “Are you not aware of what Turkish delight is?” Killian shakes his head—partially in disbelief and partially in...no, all disbelief. “I’m very aware of what Turkish Delight is, but mostly in an Edmund Pevensie kind of way and—” “—Yeah, that’s exactly the vibe we’re going for.” “You want to vibe with Edmund Pevensie in your proposal?” “Oh, God, don’t say it like that,” David groans. “It’s her favorite book.” “Mary Margaret?” “Nah, the other person I want to marry.” “That was funny,” Killian says, falling into step with David when they walk towards the door and he refuses to be held accountable for whatever sound flies out of him when David’s fingers reach towards their jackets. 

“Are you dying?” Killian shakes his head brusquely, not trusting himself to speak and he needs to stop carrying it in his jacket pocket. But he...well, he wants. With everything and then some, a quiet desire that’s crept up his spine and taken root in every inch of his brain and every part of his heart until it’s all he can think about. Like some sort of crazed romantic lunatic. 

“Killian,” David prompts, and he actually flinches. This day is a disaster “Seriously, are you ok?” “You realize that Edmund Pevensie betrayed his family for Turkish delight, right? Like that’s a basic tenet of the story.” “But it’s good.” “Familial betray?” “Turkish delight. And Edmund redeems himself.” “In overtly religious ways,” Killian says. “Is this a Christmas story, even?” “Santa Claus is prominently featured, yes.” “You think he brought Turkish delight for Edmund after he became king?” Some of the tension between David’s shoulders almost visibly appears, a shaky laugh falling out of him. “At some point, when I’m presumably not insane, I will thank you for this, I swear.” “Don’t swear, Santa won’t appreciate it.” “Or maybe he’ll arm me with a bow.” “Weird, right? Just doling out weapons to children. How old was Susan supposed to be when they found Santa?” “He found them, technically.” “Remember when I said the poinsettia conversation was the most ridiculous we’d ever had?” Killian mutters, pushing his arms into his jacket. It feels heavier than usual. “I lied. This is definitely the most ridiculous.” “Entertaining, though?” “Now you’re fishing for compliments.”

David snorts, yanking his own jacket on and Emma is texting Killian. It is absolutely complaints about chocolate chip cookies and the fact that they are not snickerdoodles.

It is almost stupid how in love he is with his own girlfriend. 

Despite his growing disdain for that particular moniker. 

They’ll get there. 

After an in-depth analysis of the entire Narnia franchise. 

“It’s fair,” David agrees. “And Edmund figured his shit out, eventually. He was wavering even before he got Aslan and the not-so-covert religious allusions. Plus—” “—God, how is there more?” “This is it, really. It’s definitely Christmas-related, at least story-wise, because they make a big deal about Narnia under Jadis’ rule—” “—Who the hell is that?” “When is the last time you read the Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe?” Killian snaps his jaw. “I was, like, eight. Max. Should I know who Jadis is?” “The aforementioned witch,” David explains, swinging open the door and grabbing Killian’s keys off the hook nearby. Killian catches them. “Is named Jadis. It’s not important to the plot—” “—Seriously, is any of this important?” “Let me get to my point. Which is that, Narnia, while not explicitly a Christmas book, does highlight the overall importance of Christmas to the general zeitgeist and suggests that the arrival of good things will also inspire Christmas. To, you know—or whatever.”

“You just used the words explicit, zeitgeist and Christmas in the same sentence,” Killian says, and he is physically incapable of keeping a straight face. 

“Christmas is good, is what I’m getting at.” “Mmmhm. Ridiculous. It shouldn’t be too hard to find Turkish delight, right?”

Wrong. Fundamentally and completely wrong. 

“Maybe if he we were high kings of Narnia,” David grumbles, letting his forehead drop onto the shelf in the third Gristedes they’ve walked into in the last hour. 

Killian sighs. “Only Peter was high king, God, get your act together.” “You couldn’t remember the witch’s name before!” “Yeah, but this is basic and—” “—What about like...speciality markets? What time is it now?” “Almost four.” “Shit. And we’re supposed to be at Belle and Scarlet’s at what time?” “Six.” “Shit. Again.” “I don’t even remember what street we’re on,” Killian says, tugging his phone out of his pocket and there are what, at first glance, appears to be several thousand texts there. And a few missed phone calls. 

Honestly, everyone knows about this proposal except Mary Margaret. 

Mary Margaret may know too. 

Killian hopes Mary Margaret doesn’t know. 

“Lexington,” David answers. 

“And?” “I don’t know. Some cross street that doesn’t have Turkish delight.” It’s wrong to laugh. It is. But Killian can’t help it and then David is joining and they’ve been to so many supermarkets. 

“It’s pretty awesome that you’re doing all this,” Killian says. He didn’t mean to do that either, but that appears to be his MO for the day and David’s half smile might win him every potential friendship point. 

An explosion of friendship points. “Yeah?” “Romantic, even,” Killian adds. “The swooning will be quick and imminent.” “Sounds less romantic.” “You’ve got no reason to be nervous.” David groans. “Yeah, that’s not how it works, really. This is—I mean, it’s a big deal, right? The rest of your life and happily and ever after and all of that?” “I’d suggest not using the phrase all of that in your proposal.” “A gentleman and a scholar, you are.” He smiles, a hand in his hair and eyes flitting back towards his phone screen. “I’m not saying it isn’t a big deal. It is. But you guys are—” Killian shrugs. “—I don’t know, the inspiration for all other romantic endeavors.” “I think you’re trying to impress me with your vocabulary.” “There’s another supermarket on 86th Street, we could probably try there.” David takes a deep breath, chest shifting and growing with the force of it, but then his hand is back on Killian’s shoulder and his smile is as honest as its been all day, dim memories of college-age dates and slightly different nerves and— “Thank you,” he says. “For—all of this. Narnia analysis not withstanding. It’s...I wouldn’t have have trusted anyone else to help me scour Manhattan for a dessert I really thought more people would be inclined to buy.” “You’ll make me blush.” “I’m serious. I’m freaking out a little and you’re—well, you’re you.” “I’m me?” Killian asks. “You,” David nods. “A good guy and willing to go along with my bullshit—” “—Seriously you have such a way with words.” “You got Emma to help distract Mary Margaret.” “That didn’t take much convincing,” Killian objects. “Your sister is a much better person than I am.” “And you’re stupid in love with her.” “Yeah, I am.” “Quick agree.” “Perpetually.” David presses his lips together, eyes narrowing slightly and Killian can almost hear the ideas and theories bouncing around his skull, but neither of them say anything and that’s probably for the best and they have to get to Fairway anyway. 

They’re definitely at least five blocks away. 

“You want to find some Turkish delight?” “Perpetually,” Killian repeats. 

They end up buying seven boxes at Fairway. Just to be safe. 

And Killian has to blink several times to make sure they’re in the right place when they get to Belle and Will’s apartment — an explosion of garland and tinsel and actual ornaments hanging from the ceiling. “Is that safe?” he asks Emma, hardly out of his jacket before she’s plastered to his side and Ruby definitely brought champagne. Opened it, as well, it seems. 

“Absolutely not,” Emma mutters. There’s a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, eyes bright far too green to be anything except vaguely festive and a color Killian would be more than willing to stare at for the rest of the night, but then he’s flinching because Anna and Ariel are snapping crackers and Emma’s laugh seems to find its way under his skin and possibly into his soul and—

She’d very nearly touched his jacket. 

“How’d today go?” she asks, fingers curling around the front of his shirt like she’s using him for balance.

He kisses her forehead. 

On instinct.

“Was that the answer?” Emma mumbles. “Because it’s a very one-sided conversation we’re having here.” “You’re holding your own pretty well, love.” “Oh, two-fold critique.” “Is it good champagne?” “Did you get some?” He nods, nose brushing against her skin and he can’t help but wrap his arm around her middle, like he’s trying to make sure she doesn’t ever leave. He’s asking questions without actually voicing them. 

David totally knew. 

“I love you,” Killian says before he can stop himself. 

Emma tilts her head up. “Yeah?” “Hopefully that wasn’t up for debate.” “Nah, it wasn’t. I just—that was nice. You look nice, did I mention that?” His cheeks flame, a heat that isn’t entirely uncomfortable, but might be a hint of nervous energy and the words are there, sitting on the tip of Killian’s tongue and begging to be said and asked and kissed. He can’t kiss out words. 

He’s very willing to try. 

“Are you ok?” Emma asks, pushing up on her toes to let her fingertips graze his jaw. His throat suddenly feels very small. 

And he hadn’t been nervous before. 

Not once. 

Not when he was thinking about the question. Or practicing the question, muttering it under his breath in the shower or the backseat of Ubers, and that had drawn more than a few questionable glances, but that one driver had actually been nice when he explained and then they’d kind of practiced together and Killian had given that guy a five-star review. 

He was pretty confident it was going to go well. 

And yet. 

Now, with the champagne and the specific color of Emma’s eyes and the threat of concussion by glass ornament quite literally hanging over him, he’s nervous. He wants it to be perfect. He wants it to be better than perfect, he wants—

David clinks the side of his glass, the room quieting almost immediately. 

He’s not quite green anymore, but definitely paler than normal and Emma pulls herself closer to Killian. 

“So, uh—” David starts, more than a few muted snickers and Killian swears he can feel Emma’s smile through his shirt. “It’s…” He exhales, shaky and excited and a slew of adjectives that practically ring with romance, stuffing his hand into his pocket to grab they box they picked up nearly an hour later than originally scheduled. 

Emma sniffles. 

Killian kisses her hair again. 

Mary Margaret gasps. 

So, maybe she had no idea. 

“I love you, Mary Margaret,” David says, dropping onto one knee. Emma is not the only one crying now, Killian’s gaze flitting around the room to find their friends with matching looks on their faces, more than a few hands covering mouths and Ariel keeps having to drag her palm over her cheeks to keep the tears from flowing too freely. 

“I can’t remember when I didn’t,” he adds, “and I—well, this seemed like the perfect moment. For us. With everyone else we love here and—” He reaches behind him, an awkward twist that ends with a soft grunt because shoulders aren’t supposed to twit that way. David’s fingers find the boxy of Turkish delight eventually, and it is several different miracles that it doesn’t spill onto the floor, but the floor is also suddenly covered by a broken glass ornament and—

Mary Margaret starts to laugh. 

It’s a little shaky at first, probably because of the tears and perfect imperfection of the whole thing, but the ornament also didn’t land on anyone, so. Points. Of the Christmas variety. 

“Yeah,” she says. 

David’s eyes bug. “What?” “Yes. I—well, that’s the goal here, right?” “I didn’t even ask yet!” “We’re under attack by the ornaments, though.”

Ruby growls. “This is festive!” “Oh my God,” David grouses, and Mary Margaret looks a bit like the sun. Emma sniffles again. 

Killian is going to set a record for kisses pressed to her hair. 

“Ask, then,” Mary Margaret says, fingers fluttering at her side with an undeniable sort of energy. “I, uh—” “Will you marry me?” David cuts in. 

“Yes.” He doesn’t jump, but he might teleport into her space, fervent kisses and roaming hands and the Turkish delight joins the ornament on the floor. 

“Good thing we bought extra, huh?” Killian calls, David making a gesture behind Mary Margaret’s head. They don’t stop kissing. 

And he does get the ring on her finger eventually, glass and whatever gelatin substance makes up Turkish delight in the garbage, champagne flowing and glasses toasted and there are pictures and smiles and then more champagne because that’s just how they operate and—

Emma stumbles through their door hours later, fingers still clinging to Killian with a slightly more tired smile. “God, that was fun,” she breathes, and he does not know what to do with every emotion he’s ever felt and currently feels for her. 

It’s too much. 

And not enough. 

“You’ve got that face on,” Emma accuses, another finger tap to his cheek. He nips at her finger, getting the yelp he fully expected and he refuses to do anything else before he kisses her. 

He’s got priorities. 

She doesn’t quite melt, but she might sag against him, wholly romantic—like she’s certain he’ll hold on and the thought only spurs him on, his tongue brushing her lips and his fingers inching up her side, tracing over skin and tugging her closer. 

Emma sighs into his mouth, nose scrunched against his and it’s not particularly graceful, but she’s also only managed to get one of her boots off and eventually Killian will blame that for whatever happens next. 

Because whatever happens next is not part of any plan he ever came up with. 

He hopes the Uber driver isn’t disappointed in him. 

“Marry me,” he mumbles. 

“What did you say?” Ice water. In his veins. Metaphorically dumped over his head. It’s presumably worse than getting hit with an ornament. 

And Killian doesn’t know what to do, mouth opening and closing quick enough that he’s sure there’s a Nutcracker joke to be made. 

Emma doesn’t blink. 

She doesn’t look away. 

Her fingers had been actively trying to unbutton his pants. 

Less romantic than he intended. “Say it again,” she whispers, and Killian doesn’t think he mistakes the greedy edge to her voice. He swallows, leaning back and pulling the box out of his jacket and Emma doesn’t gasp. 

She beams. 

Like the top of a Christmas tree. 

And the sun. And the moon and a few stars thrown in for good measure, a rather jarring return to romance because— “I’ve been carrying this around for weeks,” Killian says softly. “Trying to think of the perfect moment and how it would be good and great and every other adjective something like this is supposed to be. And I came up with the party.” “This party? The one we just went to?” “One and the same. All our friends, presumably a lot of champagne. I wasn’t expecting the ornaments, but—” “—Ruby really thought it was festive.” “Yeah, well—then David showed up here today with his own plan and he was freaking out and we had to get Turkish delight and figure out the history of poinsettias. And he kind of uh...well, he got to the proposing first.” “The stuff about poinsettias is really very common knowledge.” Killian shakes his head, nosing at Emma’s cheek and mouthing at the side of her neck and she shivers. He grins. “No, it’s not, love. But you knew and I—I think you might know everything.” “Flattery will get you everywhere,” she laughs. Giggles, a little. He’s going to overstretch the muscles in his face. “I love you a ridiculous amount,” Emma adds. “And I—you were really going to do that tonight?” “I think I’m still doing it tonight, technically.” “God.” “The banter is part of our appeal, Swan.” She huffs, no frustration in the sound, a slightly different shade of green in her gaze and dots of pink on her cheeks when she looks up. “I love you. Again, just to really hammer the point home and I—shit, it’s so nice that you did that. For David and M’s and ah, God, I just said shit during your proposal, didn’t I?” “You did. I love you a ridiculous amount too.”

“I’d imagine that’s helpful for everything else.” “Everything else?” Emma nods, a sharp inhale and quicker exhale, fingers in Killian’s hair and her mouth just on the edge of his lips. “Say it one more time.” He’s not nervous anymore. 

“Will you marry me? I just—I want to marry you so much.” “I’m going to be honest the last part really sold it for me.” “Emma.” “Serious voice.” “Swan.”

She kisses him that time, a little greedy again and neither one of them really keep their footing when they trip towards the couch, but they don’t break apart either and that’s probably some deeper meaning that bodes well for the future and collective pronouns and rings on very specific fingers. 

“I need an answer here, love,” Killian says, kissing towards her collarbone. He cannot remember how Emma got onto her back. 

“Yes.”

“You want to go make out in bed?” “Do you get follow-up questions in a proposal?” “This one, apparently,” Killian laughs. Emma takes his hand as soon as he offers it, another nod and more stolen kisses, the pair of them leaving a trail of clothes behind him and eventually he has to go back to the living room to get the ring. 

He doesn’t bother putting his pants back on. 

[writethehousedown]

Wrapped Up With You (Scyvie) - Peridot

A/N: Hey folks, merry Christmas! It’s been a while! I haven’t posted any fics in a few months but I got so inspired by this challenge that I’ve gotten back into writing! Here’s a little Scyvie fluff for y’all, I hope it gets you in the Christmas spirit! Big thank you to @artificialmeggie for being an amazing beta and for organising this entire thing, you’re a gem! You can find more of my writing over on AQ and you can give me any feedback either here or over at @artificialperidot. Hope you enjoy!

Yvie loved Christmas.

She loved the Christmas TV adverts, the cheesy Christmas cards with terrible puns, the ugly Christmas jumpers, she even loved the exhaustion of putting up the tree.

Christmas was undoubtedly her favourite season. It even beat Halloween for her, which was really saying something.

But if there was one thing Yvie just could not stand, it was wrapping presents.

And her hatred was slowly but surely turning her into more of a grinch.

Now, don’t get her wrong, she loved giving the presents. And she knew that it was what was inside the gift that really mattered. But she couldn’t help but feel inadequate when comparing her crumpled, disastrous wrapping to that of her girlfriend, Scarlet.

Scarlet’s presents were always a sight to behold. Beautiful, crisp neat wrapping paper folded around each gift; a colour-coded matching ribbon wrapped around and fashioned into a brilliant bow; a Christmas scent spritzed on the paper- chestnut or cinnamon or mint; and an extravagant tag, written in her best calligraphy, with her own original Christmas joke on each.

Scarlet’s presents weren’t just gifts; they were experiences.

Needless to say, Yvie was a little jealous.

Scarlet had always tried to help her, offering her wrapping suggestions and lending her bows and paper. Last year she even bought Yvie a few large gift bags to save her the trouble of wrapping all together. But, still, Yvie was adamant that she would wrap every single gift, no matter how horrible they looked, and the gift bags were left unopened.

But, this year, Yvie had a pretty important gift to give. And she was determined to make sure this one didn’t look like a piece of shit.

“So you’re telling me you’re actually going to let me help you wrap?” Scarlet beamed, squeezing her fists together like an excited little child. God, she was such a dork. A cute dork, though.

“Yes,” Yvie sighed, “but this is not an opportunity for you to wrap all my presents for me, okay?”

Scarlet jumped up and down, clapping her hands together with glee and producing a sort of enthusiastic squee. “This is going to be so much fun!”

With that, Scarlet shot up the stairs and returned with paper and boxes and tape and all bundled up in her arms, very nearly toppling over due to her lightning speed. Her arms overflowed with rolls of paper in golds and reds and greens, loose ribbons streaming out behind her. She dumped them all out on the table in front of them, before bolting back upstairs to her bedroom and coming back with a huge Santa sack, full to the brim with her unwrapped presents.

“Don’t get too excited,” Scarlet said matter-of-factly, “I made sure to take your presents out—no spoilers!”

Yvie shook her head in disbelief at the sheer enthusiasm of the girl. “Figures.”

“Well, what are you waiting for, Yves? Go get your presents!”

“We don’t have to do it right now, baby. There’s no rush.”

“Are you kidding me? There is a rush! We need to get started before you change your mind!” Scarlet playfully shook Yvie by her shoulder. “So hurry up, go get your gifts! There’s no time to lose!”

Yvie sighed and chuckled to herself before reluctantly heading to her bedroom to retrieve her presents, which she had ‘creatively’ hidden under her bed. She made sure to leave Scarlet’s gift, though—she’d have to face the struggle of wrapping that one alone.

By the time Yvie had made it back to the table, Scarlet had already began playing her infamous Christmas playlist, and was furiously sellotaping silver paper around a box whilst humming along to Wham’s ‘Last Christmas.’

“Took your time, I see,” she laughed.

Yvie rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help but allow a smirk to form on her lips. “Let’s get this over with then, Scar. Where do I even start?”

“Well, first thing’s first. Cut out your wrapping paper.”

“Bold of you to assume I have any wrapping paper,” Yvie replied. “I guess I’ll need to borrow some of yours.”

“Well… I suppose you could use some of the red, so long as you don’t use all of it.”

Scarlet reluctantly handed over a roll to Yvie, before immediately beginning to cut out some more paper for her next gift (which happened to be a fan that she’d picked out for her friend Katya).

“Wait,” Yvie called, “how do you know how much to cut? What’s too much, what’s too little?”

“Uh, I guess it’s just instinct. Look at what you’re trying to wrap and see how much paper would make sense.”

Yvie set down her jar of honey (a joke gift she had bought for Katya’s girlfriend, Trixie) in the middle of the paper, and quickly realised that it wasn’t as simple as Scarlet had suggested. Her first attempt was far too small—it barely even reach around one side of the gift, never mind the whole thing. Her next attempt was far too big, and once she taped down the first side and attempted to fold the corners down, loose paper was left around each edge, crumpling and creasing.

“You can trim some of that off,” Scarlet had suggested.

Well, Yvie discovered that this was no easy task either. With only a few snips of her scissors Yvie had transformed the paper from massively excessive to way too little. And, as she has already taped it down, there was no going back now. It was ruined.

Yvie tried to patch up the gaps in her wrapping with more scrap pieces of paper here and there, but no matter how hard she tried it still appeared to be a ragged, crumpled mess. Not even Scarlet’s signature bow and tag could help- she ended up tying her ribbon into impossibly tight knots rather than bows, and the only Christmas-themed pun she could come up with was something about a lesbian who ‘needs (s)no(w)man,’ which, admittedly, was pathetic at best.

Maybe the gift bags weren’t looking like such a bad option after all.

“It’s no use,” Yvie sighed in frustration. “I can’t do it.”

“Aw Yves, it’s okay! You know that it’s what’s on the inside that counts.”

“Easy for you to say, little miss ‘I can wrap,’” Yvie scoffed in a mocking tone. “Not everyone can be perfect like you.”

Scarlet bit her lip, and Yvie could tell from her puppy-dog eyes that she’d hurt her a little, even though her insult was pretty harmless.

“Oh Scar, I’m sorry baby. It’s a compliment, really. I think your wrapping is awesome.”

Scarlet perked up a little after that, her brief sadness disintegrating in favour of a small smile. “Thanks Yvie. And, for the record, there’s nothing wrong with your wrapping. It’s the thought that counts!”

Yvie chuckled, and planted a small kiss on Scarlet’s forehead. It was impossible not to find her positivity endearing.

“I guess you’re right,” she shrugged, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Though as much as I’d love to wrap more presents with you, I don’t think I can take anymore. I think I’ll just give in and use gift bags instead.”

Scarlet smiled. “That’s okay, baby. I can finish mine up tomorrow.”

“Wanna cuddle and watch a Christmas movie with hot chocolate instead?” Yvie suggested.

“Hell yeah! Can we watch Home Alone?”

“Which one?”

Scarlet raised her eyebrow. “The first one, duh. The second one is okay too, but the others don’t count.”

“You read my mind exactly.”

***

On Christmas Eve night, Yvie snuck downstairs, arms bundled with wrapping paper and bows and scissors. She would wrap at least one present if it killed her. She was beyond the point of caring what it looked like, but she knew that she had to try her best.

For Scarlet.

***

When Christmas Day rolled around, Yvie was ready. She had her plan laid out and her gift wrapped, and she was ready to give it to Scarlet.

After the pair had opened all of the presents under the tree, Yvie produced a small envelope from her pocket, which she had attempted to wrap using the same red paper. In all honesty, it looked like a haphazard, crumpled mess; covered in rips, corners sticking out at all angles and an ungodly amount of crumpled sticky tape. It looked less like a gift and more like if someone had balled a sheet of paper to throw in the bin, to be frank. But, Yvie handed it over with a sense of pride nonetheless.

Despite the present’s appearance, Scarlet smiled at Yvie’s wrapping efforts (even though she questioned why she had even attempted to wrap an envelope in the first place.) Nevertheless, she tore off the paper, opened the envelope, and revealed a Christmas Card, with a photoshopped picture of Ross and Rachel wearing Santa hats, with Yvie’s face pasted over Ross’s and Scarlet’s on Rachel’s. She smirked and began to open the card, and, holding it up to her face, read the message that Yvie had scrawled aloud.

“To the love of my life,

Merry Christmas! Christmas has always been our favourite day, and this year I wanted to make it even more special. I couldn’t think of any good jokes to write on the tag, so I figured that instead I could make a Christmas wish….

Look down.”

Scarlet furrowed her brow in slight confusion, and pulled the card away from her face.

There she saw Yvie, down on one knee, with a perfectly wrapped small box perched on her hand. It was white with a gold ribbon and a gold tag to match, and looked just as though it had been wrapped by Scarlet herself. It was perfect.

Perhaps Yvie had picked up on some of Scarlet’s wrapping tips after all.

Scarlet’s jaw hung open and her eyes started to well up with tears. It didn’t take a genius to see where this was going.

“Read the tag,” Yvie said with a smile.

“My angel, I hope you’ll grant my Christmas wish,” Scarlet read, choking back a sob.

“Scarlet, I love you. I want to spend every Christmas with you until the end of time,” Yvie proclaimed, holding back her own tears. “Will you marry me, Scarlet?”

With that, Yvie opened the wrapped box to reveal a beautiful diamond ring, that shone as bright as the tears that reflected in Scarlet’s eye.

The ring was white gold. Just like the wrapping paper and ribbon.

With that, Scarlet let her floodgates open and uttered a stream of joyous ‘yeses’ through her tears, throwing her arms around Yvie’s neck at full throttle. Yvie stood up and held Scarlet tight, lifting her and whirling her around the room as her own tears began to stream, laughter and crying mingling into one concoction of joy.

They clung to each other for what felt like forever, emotions overcoming their words. It would be wrong to speak, to interrupt their feelings of true love with something so futile as words. There weren’t any words in the English language that could capture this feeling.

Yvie was positive that she would never let her go of Scarlet. Ever again.

“I love you so much, Yvie,” Scarlet was eventually able to murmur. “This was so perfect. You are perfect.”

“I love you too, Scarlet,” Yvie said, arms still entangled with hers. “You’re my best friend, and I never want to spend another Christmas without you.”

Scarlet reached her neck up and planted a deep, loving kiss on her lips. “You never will, Yvie.”

They stayed snuggled together on the sofa for a little while longer, each not quite ready to let go of the other yet. Scarlet tried on her ring which fit like a glove, and vowed that she would buy Yvie any ring that she wanted.

The two collided in another soft kiss, full of love and kindness and warmth. When they broke apart, Yvie looked down into Scarlet’s big, blue eyes that still had tears brimming their banks.

“Hey Scarlet?”

“Yeah Yvie?”

“You’re the best gift I’ve ever received.”

[poeticandors]

So This Is Christmas

Poe Dameron x Reader Modern!AU

Request: poe x reader au where it’s Christmas time in nyc and poe is trying to get the reader in the christmas spirit (because she’s such a grinch)??? also your name is super pretty!!

Warnings: ANGST, but then fluff

A/N: OMG Thank you for the compliment anon! You are so sweet!! Also, the song is As Long As There’s Christmas (Reprise) from Beauty and the Best the Enchanted Christmas. Yes, it is one of my favorite holiday movies. Also, I know that the tree in the GIF isn’t from Washington Square Park but it was what I was picturing in this fic. 

I do not own anything!

Christmas.

To many, it was a cherished day. Spending time decorating a tree, making cookies for Santa, and basking in the holiday cheer.

To you, it was just another day.

You didn’t hate Christmas. You just never really grew up doing those things like other children did. Growing up in New York City, your parents spent most of the holidays working and away from home, so you were left to spend Christmas alone. Sure, they would leave presents, but what good is spending one of the biggest holidays by yourself?

This alone was enough to make you wonder why everyone loved Christmas so much. Maybe it was because you were jealous of how others spent this time with their family members.

Regardless, you never decorated your apartment, never got a tree, and you certainly never left cookies for Santa. You didn’t particularly enjoy Christmas music and were creeped out by the classic Claymation Christmas movies they would play every year.

To many, you would be deemed a Grinch.

But to one person, you were just missing that spark of Christmas Spirit.

You have lived next door to Poe Dameron for five years now, the two of you starting in college looking to get a head start on life.  As time went on, you two became quite close: always having movie nights, going out to eat at least three times a week, and hitting up the bar at the bottom of your apartment every Friday night.

It wasn’t hard for you to develop feelings for Poe. I mean, who wouldn’t? He was so handsome with his dark hair and dark eyes, that charming smile that made all of the ladies swoon, and his caring attitude. Yeah, he was perfect.

People would often mistake the two of you for a couple and your cheeks would warm at the comment, while Poe would laugh it off. This ruined any hope of you ever getting together with him, so you just buried your feelings deep down.

Being best friends with Poe meant learning all of his quirks. Like how much he cares for his orange and white corgi, BB, his love for pizza, and how much of a soft spot he has for Disney movies.

And the fact that he loves Christmas.

A lot.

Sometimes it drove you insane, how his apartment would already be decorated with the cheesiest decorations. The way his living room would smell of pine and cinnamon. But what irked you the most was how he would play Christmas music 24/7.

Poe has asked you many times before why you hate Christmas so much. You would usually shrug your shoulders or just change the subject. Poe would respect your wishes and spark up a different conversation.

Poe cared for you more than anything, and he noticed how your mood would change from the moment November 30th ended and December 1st began. Although the two of you would exchange gifts, Poe usually spent Christmas with his dad back home. But this year he wasn’t able to get a ticket in time before the news mentioned there was going to be a bad snowstorm.

“I can’t believe you won’t be home for Christmas, son.”

“I know, Dad.” Poe sighed into the phone. “I wish I could be there with you. I know you don’t like spending Christmas alone.”

“It’s fine. Maybe you can spend it with Y/N.” Poe scoffed.

“Dad, Y/N hates Christmas.” It sounded like Kes choked on whatever he was drinking—probably coffee.

“What? No one hates Christmas.”

“Well, Y/N does. I have asked multiple times why, but she just refuses to answer.”

“Hmm. Well, maybe she just didn’t grow up with celebrating Christmas in her life. Maybe all she needs is just a little bit of Christmas spirit.” Poe took in his father’s words, and finally smiled widely.

“Dad, I gotta go. I’ll call you tomorrow. Love you” Kes gave him his love and Poe quickly placed his phone in his pocket as he ran for his coat to gather some supplies.

Poe was going to help you see that Christmas isn’t so bad.

You walked up the stairs of your apartment carrying bags of groceries, huffing angrily. Most of Christmas Eve for you was spent running as many errands that you could. With this snow storm coming, you had to prepare, so you got all of the necessary items needed. Now, all you wanted to do was put on your sweats and fuzzy socks and binge watch Stranger Things.

Struggling to find your keys, they slipped from your grasp and you sighed. As you bent down, all of your groceries fell from the two paper bags and you groaned loudly.

Poe quickly peeked around your apartment door and looked down at you. It wasn’t a strange thing, Poe being in your apartment. You gave him a spare key in case you were to come home late from work and wouldn’t have been able to feed your cat, Kay.

“Y/N, are you okay?”

“Yeah, Poe.” You sighed. “It’s just been a long day and I would really like to relax—“

“Actually, that is why I am here. Since I am not going to be able to spend Christmas with my dad, who sends his love by the way, I decided…” He stepped back into the apartment and in his hands was a storage box. “We are going to spend Christmas Eve and Christmas together.”

“Poe.” You said sternly. “You know how I feel—“

“I know how you feel about Christmas. But I just want to show you that it’s not all that bad. I want to give me a chance in showing you that Christmas isn’t all that you think it is.”

“Poe, I just…” You trailed off as you saw him push his bottom lip out and look at you with pleading eyes.

Damn him. Poe knew the affect his puppy dog face had on you.

“Fine.” You grumbled. “But only because I don’t feel like spending the rest of my day alone. Plus, you owe me dinner from last week.” Poe’s eyes lit up and he leaned forward to place a kiss on your cheek, which instantly warmed at the touch.

“Great! I have the whole rest of the day planned out. First, we are going to decorate the tree I got you.”

“YOU GOT ME A TREE?”

Poe was so excited that you agreed to let him spend Christmas with you. He had the whole day planned for the two of you.

It started off with you decorating the tree. You had to admit, it was kind of fun watching Poe get tangled in the lights. Poe even let you place a couple ornaments that he and his mother made when he was just a boy, which you were careful of handling.

When the tree was finally decorated, Poe thought it would be cute to take you and BB to take pictures with Santa. Although you protested, you finally agreed when not only Poe showed you his puppy dog face, but BB as well. How could you resist that cute orange and white face?

Poe dragged you along to Macy’s where you three stood in line for what seemed like hours. When it was finally your turn, rather than have you sit on Santa’s lap, BB did while you stood next to Santa and Poe stood behind you, placing his hand around your waist. You tried to ignore how close Poe pulled you to him and focused more on taking the actual picture.

After purchasing the pictures, which were honestly the cutest ever, and taking BB home, Poe decided it would be nice to take you ice skating in Central Park. Poe held onto your hand as you struggled to find your balance and at one point you fell flush into his chest, his arms wrapping around you automatically. The two of you stared into each other’s eyes— the closeness causing his warm breath to ghost against your cheek—and you could feel your cheeks becoming flushed. Quickly, you pushed away from him, still holding onto his hand, and allowed him to pull you along the skating rink.

The sun was setting and you figured Poe was done showing you the “Christmas spirit”. Admittedly, you did have a good time and did start to get a soft spot for Christmas, but you still just couldn’t feel that Christmas spirit. 

Instead of telling the taxi to go back home, Poe asked to go to Washington Square Park and you raised your brows.

“This is the last spot, Y/N/N, I promise.” He placed a gloved hand to rest on your thigh. “We will get some hot chocolate, listen to some carolers, and watch as the tree lights up.” You nodded and eyed his hand before looking out of the window.

“Hey, Y/N?” You turned your head, Poe solemnly gazing into your eyes.

“I know what you’re going to ask, Poe. How come I hate Christmas.” Poe nodded slightly and you sighed. “It’s not that I necessarily hate it, per se, I just… never had a real Christmas.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, my parents were always working Christmas Eve and Christmas day. I was usually stuck with some babysitter who would spend time complaining about how they weren’t with their family and had to take care of me instead. When I got older, I just spent the day eating dinner alone until they came back and continued to ignore me. So no, I don’t hate Christmas. I just hated the feeling of being alone and hated hoping that one day things would change when I knew they wouldn’t.” Poe called your name tenderly, grazing his gloved hand over yours.

“Y/N, I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

“It’s fine, Poe.” You shook your head. “And what about you? Why do you love Christmas so much?” Poe’s eyes lit up, but his face still stayed somber.

Before he could answer, the taxi arrived at your destination. After paying the fare, Poe got out first, rushing behind the taxi so he could open the door for you, his hand held out for you. Taking his hand, you stepped out of the taxi and relished in the cold, crisp air—your breath visible through puffs.

Right in front of the Washington Square Park arch, you saw a grand tree beautifully decorated. The sun wasn’t quite down yet, but close enough that any minute, the lights on the tree would soon turn on.

Poe treated you to some hot chocolate, which you nodded in thanks—grateful for the extra feeling of warmth. The two of you walked around the park, too scared or nervous to strike up conversation, and you slowed to a stop perfect enough to see the tree without having to look over others.

Snow started to fall and you tried to bury your chin deep into your scarf. Behind you, carolers started to hum in sync, notes variating through high and low octaves, causing you to crane your head and take in the lyrics that followed.

When I felt lost and lonely

Not a dream in my head

 Poe coughed and you shifted your glance up to him. He didn’t look at you—was more focused instead on the Styrofoam cup in his hands—but spoke up.

“You asked me why I loved Christmas so much?” You didn’t answer, but Poe already knew that was what you asked earlier and sighed.

“Well, it was my mom’s favorite holiday. Every year, she would have me make my own ornament for the tree that we would go out and cut ourselves. Decorating the tree was always my favorite part. She was honestly the best, I kid you not.” Poe smiled to himself, straightening his stance, and looking towards the tree.  

Your words lifted my spirits

I remembered what you said

 “She knew exactly how to place the lights to where there were no spots left unlit. The ornaments were always strategically placed and she would always let me place the angel on top. All while singing her favorite Christmas songs. As much as she loved decorating the tree, though, what she loved the most was being able to spend it with my dad and me.”

As long as there’s Christmas I truly believe

That hope is the greatest of the gifts we’ll receive

 “When she died, the first Christmas without her was the hardest.” Poe’s voice became quieter and your heart ached for him. “There was no one to help me make an ornament and we couldn’t even bare to get a tree that year because we knew it wouldn’t compare to all of the ones my mom decorated. But most of all, it wouldn’t be the three of us like it was.” Poe paused, as if he was trying to keep himself from choking up.

“What hurt the most was knowing that all of the other Christmases would be just like that. Which is why the following year, my dad made sure that every year was how it was when she was alive—as if she was never gone in the first place.”

As long as there’s Christmas

I truly believe

That hope is the greatest of the gifts we’ll receive

“That’s why I love Christmas so much, Y/N. Because it’s not about the presents or anything like that. It’s about that special feeling you get when you are surrounded by people you love. Every time I look at a Christmas tree or hear one of her favorite Christmas songs, I am reminded that her love is what made Christmas special.”  

There’ll always be Christmas

So there’ll always will be a time when the world

Is filled with peace and love

Poe finally looked down at you to find you staring up at him—your eyes brimmed red with tears and your mouth slightly agape. What was going on in your mind, he wondered.

You didn’t expect the day to go like this at all. You didn’t expect for his actions today and his words to stick into your mind and help you understand what Christmas truly meant. All those years you felt lonely, unwanted during the time of the year where it should have been spent with those you loved.

You should have been spending the last five years with Poe, you realized.

You didn’t even notice that your arm was pressed up against his, but you didn’t move. As Poe stared down on you, his chest warmed at the sight of you and how close you were to him. He always thought you were beautiful and cared for you more than anything.

As if on cue, the lights on the tree turned on and in that moment, Poe was even more stunned. The lights danced on your Y/E/C eyes and made your skin look even more ravishing. Snowflakes landed on your lashes and sprinkled into your hair—his heart skipping a bit.

“Thank you for today, Poe. You have made this one of the best Christmases I never thought I could have.” The two of you were leaning in closer to one another, as if something was pulling the two of you close together. “Thank you for showing me what Christmas was really about.” Poe hummed and continued leaning in.

You watched as his eyes flickered down to your lips, and then back up to your eyes. Poe whispered your name tenderly, reaching a gloved hand and grazing it just on the side of your neck—his thumb under your jaw and his fingers ghosting underneath your ear.

Your lips parted and just as Poe leaned in, you closed your eyes—your heart racing in your ears. Poe kissed you tenderly, as if you would falter right in his grasp. One of your hands was flat against his chest, while the other snaked up to the back of his neck, pulling him in closer.

Poe broke the kiss—the two of you gasping softly for breath—and leaned his forehead against yours as his eyes bore into your Y/E/C ones.

“Merry Christmas, Y/N.” You smiled and for the first time, truly understood the meaning behind those words.

“Merry Christmas, Poe.”

Tagging because Poe: @propertyofpoeandbucky @cobalt-one @firefeatherx

Permanent Tag List: @geeksareunique @beautifulfound 

[tat2luvgirl]

#Repost @blueravenartist • • • • • • BIDEN HAS HEART⁠ Okay, I know the last administration left the current one with a hell of a mess and it’s going to take moving mountains to bring things back to even semi-normal. I know there’s massive inequality, home-grown terrorist’s threats, outrageous health care costs and criminal drug prices, immigration problems, a climate crisis, a wrecked economy for everyone but the rich, and of course, the pandemic. I get it. We live in challenging times.⁠ But I’m getting sick of making art and writing about all that’s wrong and scary. Now that we’ve gotten rid of he-who-shall-not-be-named, and we have sane, intelligent, grown-ups in charge, like the Grinch who stole Christmas, my battered heart is growing a little stronger each day. We just might have a chance of dealing with the overwhelming challenges we face as a species. While we are admittedly mired down with bad news, there are good things happening too.⁠ .⁠ He-who-shall-not-be-named has more faults than can be listed, but one of his worst was the complete lack of empathy. Empathy is something that Biden has in spades. Biden might not be perfect. He’s not the best speaker in the world, having had the challenge of overcoming stuttering as a child. He’s pretty old, but that gives him wisdom. (Besides, thinking of Kamala Harris as POTUS in 4 years is pretty cool.) He has massive experience, which gives me a little peace of mind. But the best thing is that the guy has heart, which gives me hope. Consider how just that one thing will influence the decisions made by this administration. As you fall asleep tonight, forget all the scary stuff. Think about the fact that Biden has heart and that means everything. Yeah, we’ve work to do. But at least now our leader actually cares. @blueravenartist #blueravenartist #blueravenpolitical⁠ .⁠ #politicalart #climatechange #climatechangeisreal #globalwarming #savetheworld #savetheplanet #science #scienceisreal #bidenharris #globalwarmingisreal #canvasprintsforsale #canvasartprints #climatecrisis⁠ https://www.instagram.com/p/CLFXYLMJ-y3/?igshid=1mz8rg92b4wf7

[adrelianafernandes]

T(Hat) Reveal

@mlsecretsanta @sebayard

For ML Secret Santa 2017! It’s my first time participating and I hope my giftee loves it!

Set during the Christmas Special, where Marinette recognizes her ha(t)ndiwork at the end.

—

Darkness greeted Marinette when she finally, finally made her way home after a long day. Akumas on Christmas were new; she had expected a more understanding attitude from the Parisian citizens but she supposed there was nothing much she could really do, other than defeat the Akumas. If only Hawkmoth would let up on holidays…

Climbing up the staircase, she pushed open the trapdoor, opening her purse so Tikki could come out and eat from the tin of cookies she had taken to keeping in her room.

”I’m exhausted Tikki, what a Christmas Eve!”

The kwami giggled. “All part of the job Marinette!”

The girl groaned before dropping onto her chaise, eyes fixed on the kwami. “Do you think Adrien has gotten my present yet?”

“I’m sure it has been delivered, Marinette! Maybe they were holding off so he could open up all of his presents all at once?”

Suddenly Marinette sat up, frowning. “I just remembered, Tikki. He already opened it; he thanked me earlier during the party. Why wasn’t he wearing it? It’s the only time of year he could appropriately wear it.”

Frustrated, the black-haired girl wracked her brain for answers, possible scenarios that didn’t involve Adrien throwing away her hat because it was ugly or he didn’t like it or he didn’t like her- wait. She had seen that hat before. Wasn’t that Santa wearing it- oh. So Adrien had given the hat away. He didn’t like her after all.

“Marinette?” Tikki floated closer out of concern.

The girl stifled a sob. “Why couldn’t he just tell me he didn’t like it Tikki? Why did he have to go behind my back?”

“What?”

“He gave the hat to the Santa Claus, the one who was akumatised. Why didn’t he just tell me instead of thanking me and telling me he loved it?”

“Maybe the Santa had an identical hat?”

Marinette grasped at the sensible suggestion the kwami offered. Of course, it wasn’t like the snowflake pattern was unique. It was Christmas and hats had plenty of patterns beside the plain red most hats sported.

Still, she was bothered by the thought. It was odd that the Santa who had dropped Adrien off at the mansion had an identical hat when Adrien’s was nowhere to be seen.

Then the sounds of an explosion reached her ears and she switched on her phone to see a dark purple butterfly adorning the screen next to a location: Notre Dame.

Another Akuma on Christmas. Hawkmoth really didn’t take holidays off.

“Tikki, spots on!”

—

Admittedly Adrien really had thought his decision was for the best; giving the Santa a hat to cheer him up and replace his old one. Just why was he having second thoughts about it though?

Then he heard the explosions from far beyond the mansion, around the Notre Dame if he had to guess accurately. “Plagg, claws out!”

“Not again-“

Adrien ignored the kwami as the transformation washed over him in a wave of energy. The moment the light died down, he moved, leaping out of the window and extending the pole to catch his descent. He searched the area for a minute, before running out to the Notre Dame.

—-

“Miraculous ladybug!” Ladybug cried, the magic swirling around her as it repaired the rubble left behind the Grinch-themed Akuma victim.

She heaved in relief; two victims was enough for one day. At this rate she wouldn’t be able to get up in time for Christmas tomorrow.

She offered her fist to her partner. “Pound it!”

He tapped his to hers, smiling. “Another good job, milady.”

Then a thought zapped her: the Christmas gift for Chat Noir! The one she had prepared after they agreed on the gift exchange: no potentially identity-compromising gifts, and nothing too flamboyant or expensive.

“Wait!” she called as the boy turned to leave. “Can you meet me later near the Eiffel Tower for the gift exchange?”

Chat Noir had no hesitation as he nodded, before his ring beeped and he waved. “See you later, milady!”

Beep! Beep! Beep!

Immediately she tossed her yoyo, allowing it to hook itself around a railing before swinging off towards her home.

—

Grabbing the present wrapped in green paper, Marinette patiently waited for Tikki to scarf down her cookies. Then her eyes met the wall and she stifled herself as she realized the wall was still plastered with the pictures of her crush.

“Are you still thinking about the hat, Marinette?”

The girl silently nodded, shifting her gaze to the window and the skyline of Paris instead.

“I’m sure there’s nothing in it, Marinette. I’m sure he loved your gift.”

“But how can I be sure?”

“You did see how happy he was about that scarf.”

“From his father.”

“He loved your lucky charm bracelet too, Marinette!”

The kwami flew up from the stack of biscuits to pat Marinette’s cheek. “I’m sure he loved it,” she stated firmly, before swerving back down to the plate.

Marinette nodded, slowly, as if reassuring herself. “I’m sure he loved it.”

Tikki swallowed her last cookie, smiling. Marinette was definitely learning.

“I’m ready, Marinette!”

“Tikki, spots on!”

—-

Chat Noir waited patiently on a lower beam of the Eiffel Tower, happily noting it was a calm night. Inwardly, he wondered whether his gift was appropriate. She never had shown much of a liking for his puns, maybe he really should have taken that account and gotten her something more appropriate, but then what if he had gotten her that necklace he had been contemplating? That would be far too expensive and she might have rejected it out of consideration of how expensive it was.

But was this present really appropriate? He was just about to get up and decide to go make her something himself, identity be damned, when he heard the zip of her yoyo and knew it was too late to retract his decision.

“My lady! Merry Christmas!”

She smiled, accepting his red-wrapped box, tucking it under her arm as she offered him a green-wrapped parcel, soft and warm to the touch. “Merry Christmas, Chat.”

He looked at the gift in consideration. It would have to be some sort of fabric, maybe she got him a t-shirt like the one printed with a cat’s paw he had been contemplating? Or maybe she got him a jacket, like the red and black-spotted bomber jacket he had seen in a clothing store when he had gone shopping?

His tail twitched, and his lady laughed. “Curiosity killed the cat, Chat.”

Never missing a beat, he retorted: “But satisfaction brought it back.”

He paused to consider how she was sitting, box in her lap as she stared out at the city lights. He sat down next to her, wondering why she was so quiet.

“Is something wrong, my lady?”

She jerked as if burnt. “No! Nothing’s wrong.”

He was about to ask another question, knowing with that response something was wrong when she gestured to his gift. “We should open these. Do you want to go first?”

He shook his head. “Ladies first.”

“Such a charmer,” she teased. “No puns?”

“My lady! How could you think so lowly of your brave knight!”

She raised a brow. “So at the same time then?”

She seemed to be responding to his flirtations well. “Who am I to argue with such a beautiful girl?”

She quirked a smile, before they both turned to their gifts. “One, two, three!”

She was careful with the wrapping paper, he noticed, carefully removing the bow and wrapping the ribbon around her wrist before she teased the paper open, trying not to rip the wrapping paper.

He was also careful, trying to preserve the soft green paper, slitting the tape that held it closed with his sharp claws.

She was struggling to pry away the tape attaching the box to the paper, so he offered a finger to her with a wink. “A claw-ser at your service, my lady!”

She shook her head wryly, before holding up the troublesome piece of tape for him to slit. He did so, before the box fell into her lap and she looked at it, bemused, before lifting the flaps to behold the gift inside.

Chat fidgeted nervously. She hadn’t said anything yet, and her expression betrayed nothing of her emotions inside. Did she like it? Damn it, he should have gone with the jacket!

“Chat,” Ladybug breathed, lifting out the small stuffed kitty plush, very much like Plagg only without the snark, need for Camembert or magical powers that transformed him.

“It’s my kwami! Or, well, modeled after him.” Oh how Plagg had laughed and cackled over him for days before he had bribed him with a slice of cheese to keep his mouth shut.

“It’s a normal cat plush, but I’ve added the antennae and longer tail that Plagg has. The sewing isn’t exactly invisible since I couldn’t find an exact match and I only had so much to go on-“

“-Chat. It’s beautiful. It’s the perfect gift.” To his surprise, Ladybug scooted over and hugged him. “Thank you.”

His grin spread cheek to cheek in triumph. His lady liked it! Then he remembered her gift, and made quick work of the rest of the paper. Inside was a knitted hat, with little slits for his cat ears to pass through.

He put it on quickly, marveling at how warm and cozy it felt against his hair. “My lady, this is amazing!”

Instantly he gave her a crushing hug, so warmed at the thought of a gift from one of his first real friends; Marinette, Nino, Alya and Chloe notwithstanding. This was one of the friends who loved his actual self.

She smiled, resting her head against his. “Merry Christmas, Chat.”

“Merry Christmas, my lady.”

It was late, the time on his baton showing it was eleven at night, and he would be missed very soon. “Sadly, I’ll have to take my leave and run like a cat, my lady!”

“Don’t you mean like a cheetah, Chat?”

He swept his hat off his head, indicating his ears. “Au contraire, I am but a lower member of the felines.”

In the flamboyant action, a card came loose, and Chat snagged it quickly, before it fell any lower than their current beam. “Merry Christmas, Adri.”

‘Oh no.’ Ladybug’s blood ran cold. She had given him the wrong card. After making the mistake of writing Adrien’s name, she had procured a new card and written the correct greeting, but she must have mixed the two up. ‘Could this day get any worse?’

“This looks a lot like the hat Marinette gave me,” The boy mused under his breath, but her sharp hearing afforded by her kwami allowed her to hear his words.

“Adrien?”

Chat Noir looked up alarmed. “Who?”

‘No way.’

It was too late to deny the truth; only Adrien had received a hat as a Christmas gift from her.

“It’s you, isn’t it? Blonde hair, green eyes, absurd love for puns…” She felt remarkably calm. She could deal with this. It wasn’t like her crush was the same guy who constantly flirted with her.

He didn’t see much of a way out of this. “Yeah, it’s me. I’d de-transform but I wouldn’t be able to get off the tower.”

He didn’t expect her to laugh out loud the next minute. “Of course! The guy I’m crushing on is the one who has always been flirting with me.”

He paused. It couldn’t have been. “Marinette?”

She spluttered. “Wha-no, I’m not Marinette Dupain-Cheng, I’m Ladybug!”

He shook his head, seeing familiarity in her sometimes clumsy mannerisms, kindness, looks and clear skill in designing, as he looked at the hat still gripped in his hand. He was well aware of her crush – thank you manga for that education – but didn’t want to get her hopes up in the case that his father didn’t approve and restricted him from school.

“I am glad it’s you.” He said sincerely. “If I had to pick anyone else, it wouldn’t really be anyone but you.”

And who could it have been? Alya, the reporter on all things Miraculous? Nino, the spaz who had a kind heart but really wasn’t the type yet? Chloe, the one who caused at least half the Akumas in Paris? No, Marinette - the kind hearted, intelligent, daring class rep - was really the one he would have picked as his partner.

“You know,” The superheroine began casually. “I was going to ask you about the hat, but it’s pretty clear that you gave it to the Santa, and it’s… actually alright. I can see that kindness now, the Chat Noir kindness where you make sure the victims are alright. Besides,” She said with a teasing look on her face. “You’ve got a new hat now.”

“Not freaking out?”

“Not yet. I’ll probably do it at home and need Tikki to calm me down.”

“So… superhero secret dating so we can freak out Alya and Nino, keep my father from knowing and for the fun of it?”

She laughed gaily. “Why ever not?”