#merry holidays seek (hides face in hands)

[the--journeys]

for @seek--rest <3

[down-the-rabbit-hole-charlie]

Merry Christmas :

Warning : Explicit. Suggestive. Minors keep out.

The Sinclair family had decided to throw their own little private party for Christmas, but Bo wasn’t in a good mood.

He hated Christmas.

It made him think back to all the years where Vince used to have all the good gifts and he was left with the damn coal in the sock or a beating when he was being bad. He knew he could always buy himself a gift now, but it wouldn’t be the same. Vince and Lester had offered him gifts, but they seemed rather…unappealing for some reason. Maybe it was all his years of no-gift tradition that had rendered him completely indifferent to the holiday. And while Lester and Vince had fun decorating the tree and cook dinner…He was bored. He sighed before his eyes landed on the mistletoe hanging at the door. Another old tradition he never really understood…

Why the fuck did people kiss underneath a plant ? Why have an excuse to make out ? If they wanted to kiss, they could just kiss and be done with it…But then, his eyes landed on the door leading downstairs to the basement. Then, his head started turning as a smirk slowly crept onto his face at the idea he just had. Maybe he could still have a good Christmas after all…?

He stood up and grabbed the mistletoe before looking back at Vince and Lester who were too busy with their own preparations to notice.

"M’gonna bring our ‘guest’ a plate." He said and the other Sinclair brothers nodded absentmindedly. If they knew what he intended to do ? They didn’t comment on it. Vince wordlessly gave him a plate of food and Bo grinned before shoving the mistletoe into his pocket.

"Thanks, Vinny. See ya later."

Bo opened the door and started getting down the stairs. Once he was out of view, Lester and Vinny looked at each other knowingly. Lester seemed ready to say something, but Vinny simply shook his head. He knew what Lester was about to say.

And no.

Better not to say anything and let Bo get his frustrations out his own way…

In the basement:

You heard his footsteps and recognised them immediately. You had learned to recognise their footsteps. Lester was rather light of his feet due to his constant runnin’ in the woods. Vinny was rather stealthy too, but not light. A few floorboards would sometimes creak under his weight when he brought you food or wanted to dress you up. Whereas Bo ? Bo wasn’t subtle. It wasn’t that he couldn’t be, it’s just that he didn’t see the need to. His footsteps were loud and heavy. And as sure and commanding as he was as a person. You whimpered and tried to back away into the darkest corner of the room you were trapped in. Lester and Vincent were alright. They weren’t really too demanding and they usually only wanted a conversation or a hug sometimes. But, Bo ? Bo was unpredictable and forceful and loved making you cry…

He stopped in the middle of the room and his eyes roamed around—seeking you out like you were a prey ready to be eaten alive.

Sometimes, you suspected that ever his brother were scared of him—but you never really had see anything to prove it. They just never talked about him during your alone time, and who could blame them ? He was more of a monster than you or them would ever admit…

"Come on, darls’. Get out. Get out. Wherever you are…" He taunted with a singsong voice—calling you with a damn smirk on his face—and you closed your eyes. You hoped that if you stayed curled up and silent, maybe he’d give up. But, you should have known better. A hand suddenly shot up towards you and Bo dragged you out by the scruff of your neck like a misbehaving kitten. "Ah ! Here you are, sweetheart ! Thought ya could jus’ hide away from me, huh ?"

You didn’t fight back. You knew better by now.

Last time you had tried to escape, Bo had tackled you to the ground before you could make as much as a few steps away from the house. He had then stripped away all of your privileges—including food—and you hadn’t eaten in two days.

He brought the plate of food to your nose—taunting you with the nice smell of warm and tasty food. Your eyes prickled with tears at the memory of Christmas dinners and gifts under the tree…You missed those days. And knowing that it would be your second Christmas away from home made you sick.

"Come on…Gimme a smile, pretty thing. And you’ll have the food Vinny cooked, eh ?" He brought the plate even further up your face, so much that you could almost taste it. And Bo’s eyes lit up like damn Christmas decorations as he saw you open you mouth and start eating out of the plate like a dog. You were so hungry, and the damn bastard hadn’t even bothered bringing you a plastic spoon…You were reduced to a state of complete submission and humiliation due to your own needs…Even their dog was surely better treated than that.

But, you were far from over with the stomach tornado of fucked up and gross��because then, Bo grinned as he brought up to view the mistletoe and your stomach twisted in disbelief and disgust at what you knew he was about to ask.

"How about a lil’ Christmas gift for me, pretty ?" His eyes showed only cruel taunting and you knew he was having the time of his life just messing with your head. "A lil’ kiss fer me, and I’ll let you celebrate Christmas with me and ma brothers upstairs…You’ll get to see the pretty snow and decorations and if you’re good enough ? I might even allow you back in your bedroom…"

You closed your eyes. A fucked up deal from a fucked up man.

But, you were ready to risk it all if it meant getting out of that dark, moldy and cockroach-infested basement. You had given up on the notions of dignity or self-respect long ago. Your head just knew one word now: survival.

"…No tongue." You finally conceded and Bo’s shit-eating grin grew bigger. He leaned in and slowly pressed his lips to yours. He closed his eyes and slowly moved his lips slowly and sensually against your dry and surely bruised ones. It almost took you by surprise how gentle he was being. Was it some type of reward for not fighting him on this ?

But, the kiss quickly took a new turn when Bo decided he wanted more…Suddenly, the fingers of the hand he was using to hold your jaw into place dug into your flesh as he forced your mouth open to thrust his tongue mercilessly into your welcoming warmth—wet and tentalizing. Your eyes widened and you started struggling. But, it was useless. All sounds of protest on your behalf were ignored or muffled as you tried to push him off. Your eyes were tearful and you couldn’t breathe properly due to his other hand wrapped around your throat and his thumb digging up the soft fleshy part underneath your jaw. You didn’t know what he was doing until you realised with horror that he was experimenting just how far his tongue could reach down your throat—his thumb pushed to the extreme underneath your chin. The incessant back and forth of his tongue making your dizzy and teary as you still tried to fight back.

After a few minutes, Bo finally released you and backed off, a cruel smirk playing on his lips as he looked at your red and abused lips with pride. He even swept his thumb over your sensitive lips. You would have whined if your throat hadn’t lost all ability to form sounds.

"Ssh…I know, baby. I know. M’sorry. But, I wouldn’t have gone so far if you weren’t so damn unfair." He must have seen the confusion in your eyes as he quickly explained. "You always play with Lester and Vinny more than me. You all seem to warm up to each other, and yet ya always gimme the fuckin’ cold shoulder. I shouldn’t be jealous, but come on, sweetheart ! Would it really be so damn difficult to be a lil’ sweeter with me too ?"

A single tear rolled down your cheek. What a joke…He wasn’t sorry—not one bit. He was just jealous. Pathetic…

"…Monster." The word was out before you could stop yourself and you knew here and then that you had just committed a terrible mistake by speaking up. His eyes lost all warmth and he was back to his cold facade as he sighed and shrugged.

"Fine. Have it your way." He stood up and you thought he was going to leave, but he instead closed the door. He then returned to you and stood before you with a nasty grin and his hands on his hips—expecting.

"Am still waitin’ on that kiss, baby…"

You didn’t understand. You had just given him a kiss…what was he…? Suddenly, a touch of colour caught your eye as your eyes laid on his waist and all colour was drained from your face…There was another mistletoe—well hidden in his pants. His smirk grew as realisation hit you. Your eyes widened and the shock and fear in your eyes made him chuckle as he started petting your head.

"…Merry Christmas, darlin’."

You looked up at him and your gritted your teeth as his grin was back and his eyes were dark and menacing.

Bo Sinclair. The man who made you hate Christmas.

[zhvakinnn]

Request: Sorry the ask disappeared, but feel free to remove any characters I know there's a lot. But if you still take requests could you do the hashira and the trio ( Tanjiro, Inosuke, and Zenitsu ) x a hashira reader who's like the reincarnation of Fluttershy. And just everyone is surprised by it because most hashiras are more outgoing. Thank you and Merry Christmas/ happy Hanukkah/ whatever you celebrate

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

I'll do the trio for now because I can't do the hashira's i dont have much time, happy holidays to you too!

Hashira version: Here!

🍓as always i don't know much English so if something is wrong correct me 🍓

Trio x hashira male! Reader

Tanjiro kamado

∆ tanjiro is going to visited the hashira's and when he got there he saw no one around then he ask kagaya to where the hashira's are and he said they're on picnic, he ask the where the location is and kagaya told him, he nodded then walk towards there

∆ but when he got there he ask to where you are

∆ "(name) didn't come, i tried to talk to him the we're going to the picnic but he didn't come out" mitsuri said

∆ tanjiro nodded "atleast giyuu came" shinobu added

∆ "....let me eat..." < Giyuu

∆ when tanjiro got there he saw you sitting there alone

∆ he thought he could scare you but you ended up getting you blade out inches from he's neck

∆ when you realize it was tanjiro your glare eye's became worried

∆ tanjiro calm you down and said his ok and asked " why are you not on the picnic like the others?"

∆ you explained that you don't like going out much

∆ he only nodded and walk away leaving you confuse

∆ then you saw him cooking a rice and stuff

∆ you help him a bit, and when its ready tanjiro said "how about we stay here and have a picnic just the two of us?"

∆ your face became a lighter shade of red you just stand there and now tanjiro is the one confused

∆ when he ask you if your ok you jump at him hugging him thigthly

∆ "thank you so much tanjiro.."

∆ "no problem love" he kissed your cheek then you two just eat there chatting

∆ ahggg i love tanjiro i want a boyfriend like him 👊🏼😭

Zenitsu Agatsuma

∆ i bet zenitsu is not an outgoing person and also is shy aswell so you both share the same personality

∆ so if you two go on dates your backyard of the estate

∆ but when zenitsu insist you two go out outside sometime (he'll ask if your ok with, he such a gentleman aswell:'D💚)

∆ when you agree you go out on some noodles shop hand in hand kinda awkward but comfortable sometimes you go to many shops

∆ but if you don't agree he's ok with it but your date is like you two are playing like little kids

∆ you both play: hide and seek, touch the wall, etc

∆ i love how chaotic zenitsu is

∆ I'm sorry if this is short:')

Inosuke Hashibira

∆ now inosuke is the out going person he likes to ran around jump around even roll around

∆ while you just sat there staying inside

∆ and since you a MALE he literally force you when you don't agree he will carry you out

∆ but he realized he made a mistake

∆ when you outside you look super anxious looking around and standing where theres a shadow

∆ wait i wanna make inosuke's part some senerio

Inosuke looked at you, when he first saw you, you look so bold and strong but right now you look like you about to cry (I'm gonna make inosuke have a soft spot on you)

"HEY! Why are you whining be manly!"

"can we please go back inside... please" the last please was quiet and mix with fear"

He stared at you and tug your arm but not harshly

When you got back he trow you to the bed got his boar head out then cuddle you

"I'm sorry..."

"its ok inosuke, thank you for understanding.....and please take a bath first"

"I'm a boar i dont need bath" he slap your back a little to harsh then fall asleep

You looked at him and smiled and kiss he's forehead

"thank you.."

Arhh finally done hope you like it just wait for my hashira part

[ghostie-the-haunted]

Im so sorry this is so late but I hope you enjoy the Christmas Theme! ALSO Merry Christmas Eve Sib!!

-

It was Christmas Eve! All day the Mega Pizza-Plex held a Holiday type party for all of the kids in town, Pizza, Decorations, Holiday themed shows and other fun festive activities.

The snow began to pile though, it was getting bad so unfortunately the fun had to end early, Each kid got a goodie bag full of merchandise and a gift card as the Pizza-Plex's gifts for everyone.

They thought that everyone had gone home so they closed the place up, all the gaurds went home, there was only a few cleaning bots that ran through the party center and most of the main animatronics have shut down for the night to rest.

That left you, alone and confused. You weren't on the Pizza-Plex radar of kids although you have come many times to watch the performances, you knew the area quite well so in your time of confusion you wondered to the Daycare. that seemed like the safest option for a place to stay the night, especially under these conditions. You had never been there but something about it just felt safe.

Sliding down into a ball pit you moved forward a bright yellow man appeared at the top of the platform above you before jumping in to join you.

It's definitely an animatronic so you entering the ball pit was probably a motion activated response

Trying not to disturb it you moved forward with caution before feeling two hands lift you up under your arms greeting you with a friendly smile. You shrieked quickly out of surprise from being lifted but also because it kinda tickled, his voice was warm, His name was Sundrop, nice.

"Helloo new friend! I didn't mean to scare you! What are you doing up so late are we having a slumber party? Where are all your friends?" He continued to hold you up while taking you out of the ball pit and to the main floor.

After you explained your situation his voice softened "I see, well you've come to the right place, you will be safe here for the night I'll make sure of it!" This brought a smile to your face as you thanked him and apologized for the trouble

"Don't you worry about a thing Sunshine I just have one rule! Keep the lights on" he said the last part with a very serious tone, you listened and nodded.

"Excellent!"

As you looked around you realized that the entire Pizza-Plex had been decorated for this occasion

"You like the decorations! I made some of them myself! Like this snowflake! Do you what to make a snowflake too ghostie!"

You nodded before asking how he knew your name

"You're in our system aren't you? Hmm odd, I've seen you before at some of the shows that's how I know your name!"

I guess that makes sense, you didn't read too much into it, Snowflake time!!

"You want some glitter glue? I have glitter glue!" He showed you all the different colors and things he had in store.

"Amazing work sunshine! This is going right up on the wall! Help me tape it on, this masterpiece must be known to the world!!" He did a little spin and dance before picking you up again to tape it on the wall. Squeaking again at the sudden motion and of course because of your undeniable ticklishness, which did not go unnoticed by Sun, he smiled "You're a Jumpy one aren't ya' sunshine?"

You gave him a face as he let you down giggling, "How about we play a game yeah?! Would you like that?"

Eagerly nodding he smiled even brighter, "Perfect! Let's play hide and seek! You hide I'll seek! The only two rules are no going behind the counter and no leaving the daycare got it?"

You nodded once more before he smiled "Alrighty! Go hide I'll start counting 1,,,,2,,,"

You giggled and ran for the play area, even if he did find you there was no way he could catch you in here!

"98,,,99,,," You had found a cozy spot between two walls of the area that made a triangle

"100!! Ready or not here I come!"

Now he didn’t really count to 100 but who's keeping track! You held your hand over your mouth as you peeked around to see where he was, you saw him, with wiggling fingers he searched for you.

"I wonder where Ghostie went" he said playfully as he searched the Daycare, "Come on out Sunshine, Im gonna getcha'!" He entered the playplace that's when the adrenaline kicked in.

You held back the giggles that bubbled up inside your throat as you quietly made your way out of your hiding spot to try and out smart him

Unfortunately for you, you had tripped and fell down one of the slides, stopping yourself before you could reach the floor, Sundrop had left the play area from the opposite side.

To not make a sound you had stayed hidden in the slide, if you could not see him, he could not see you

"Oh sunshinee~ come out come out wherever you are" his voice sounded closer, alot closer then before but you remained in your spot, there's no way he's gonna find you in here, it's genius.

"Gotcha'!" He swiftly grabbed you from behind placing you down gently on his lap as you tried to get away he pulled you right back

"Ah ah ah, I found you fair and square so do you know what I get as a reward?"

You shook your head no before he wiggled his fingers all over your sides "You're sweet laughter!" He giggled as you giggled smiling to himself "didn't think I noticed when I held you earlier, I know a ticklish one when I see them"

He moved his quick fingers up your ribs and under your arms smiling at his victory,

"Tickletickletickletickle" he teased in your ear while tickling your neck with one hand and sides with the other.

"You have got to be the most ticklish person that has ever entered the Daycare!" He teased as you whined a bit

"Aww what's wrong, too ticklish Ghostie?, Tickle tickle tickleee" he smiled wiggling all ten fingers gently across your stomach.

"Ooo good spot! Very adorable sunshine" The Sun animatronic beamed with joy, as your laughter slowed down so did his tickles

He couldn't help a few pokes or light scribbles every now and again but he was pretty much done, rubbing away the remaining ghost tickles he carried you gently to a sleeping area for the night seeing how tired you were getting and how late it was.

After tucking you in he smiled to himself ruffling your hair gently "sleep well Sunshine and a very Merry Christmas to you"

Sun stayed up after that creating some homemade gifts for you to wake up to the next morning for Christmas.

The Daycare was the right choice afterall :]

-

Hehe I hope you enjoyed I think this might have been my longest one on our Fluster war/game too I love it! :]

Merry Christmas Eve Sib!!

SIIIIIIIIIB

This is amazing! Merry Christmas Eve to you too!!

If I can I’ll try to write one for you too!

[a-fluffer-nutter]

Christmas Patrol

A/N - Hey @witchy-giggles here is your Squealing Santa fic! Thank you for giving me some fun prompts to work with! I chose the EraserMic fic and had a lot of fun! Thank you for giving me the spirit for writing again and have a good holiday season!!!

Word Count: 3,801

           Villainy doesn’t take a pause on the holidays, which the heroes knew very well. The Pro Heroes without families would often take patrol during the holidays, letting the others have the rest they need and the time they want with their families, especially since it could be their last time to see them. Shouta Aizawa was one such hero, always enjoying patrolling on Christmas night.

           Glitter swirled in the wind from the celebration below, getting stuck in Aizawa’s long raven hair. He always dreaded the shower after this patrol, spending hours sitting in the shower, trying his hardest to strip his hair of the retched glitter, to which he was never successful.

           Children screamed in delight, lugging large boxes behind them in sleds, occasionally hiding behind them to avoid being struck by a snowball. It rarely ever actually snowed on Christmas, but a few heroes with snow and ice quirks made it their duty every year to cover the country in snow, at least for the day. Aizawa appreciated the snow, as villains would leave behind footprints if they were afoot. He didn’t appreciate the cold, however, as his hero outfit wasn’t the warmest. The utter delight of the community below him did warm him, just a bit.

           Legs dangling off the edge, Aizawa sat there in wait. It was uncommon for villains to cause problems of Christmas, but the hero knew that if disaster would strike, it would be in the downtown hub of the city. Mindlessly fiddling with his capture weapon, he felt a smile tug at his lips as he watched a father throw his child into a pile of snow, the kid’s butterfly like wings fluttering happily.

             “Merry Christmas Eve Eve!” Shouta lazily remembered his husband throwing himself onto the bed, his voice nearly as loud as it is when his quirk is activated.

           Rolling over with a long hiss, Aizawa reached out and pushed Yamada’s face away, not wanting the sleep to leave him so soon. Sure, he got more than four hours, a rarity for him, but damn it, it was his day off. Yamada crawled up his body as Aizawa groaned, his body tensing beneath his husband. Yamada wasn’t a very large man, mostly lean and spindly, but at this time, he weighed as much as Cementoss. Aizawa huffed, trying to shut his eyes tighter, seeking the void of sleep to take him back.

           “Merry Christmas,” Aizawa’s eyes shot open as the softest voice graced his ears.

           “Hey, honey,” His voice was gruffer than usual. Before he could do it himself, Yamada pulled back the blanket, revealing Aizawa’s head, hair an absolute disaster. Eri let out a tiny giggle, scooping up a tangled strand, intertwining it between her short, stubby fingers. She stared at the strand of hair, entranced by it, her curiosity overcoming her as if she had never seen his hair before.

           “Merry Christmas,” Eri repeated, voice stronger now. Aizawa let out a short chuckle, patting her on the head as he sat up. His hair covered his eyes, temporarily blinding him as Eri let out a laugh, provoked by Yamada pointing at Aizawa’s hair and sticking his tongue out.

           “Gimme five minutes,” Aizawa grumbled, glaring at his husband. Eri nodded and ran out of the room, Yamada’s hand in hers.

             “You’re being so mean to me!” A young girl pouted in the square below, her lizard tail thumping like a pissed off cat’s. The hero peered through his goggles, seeing an older child standing over the young girl, a dark cloud circling his hand, short flashes of lightning resonating infrequently. Aizawa shuddered at the boy’s quirk, almost feeling the raindrops washing down his face like they did that day, the day that…

           “You’re pathetic,” The older kid sneered, reminding Aizawa of a certain student of his. He watched as the boy held out his hand, palm flat, pointed toward the young girl. The small cloud grew larger as he continued taunting the girl.

           “Please, don’t hurt me!” The girl whimpered, hiding her face behind her tail,

           “Pathetic,” The boy repeated, then pulled his arm back with alarm. “Wha-?”

           “Stupid kid,” Aizawa muttered, hair swirling above his head. A faint glow of crimson glistened behind his goggles; eyes locked on the aggressive boy.

             “Are you ready?” Eri asked, bouncing on her toes, now wearing a Santa hat, much to Aizawa’s amusement.

           “I guess,” earning a smack from his husband, Aizawa recoiled with a grin. “Nah, I’m ready.”

           Eri clapped, following Aizawa to the couch. She nestled in next to him, head resting against his bicep. Yamada clasped his hands together, holding them in front of his heart. He too was wearing a Santa hat, that sat above his snowman themed glasses. He strolled over to the tree, which he and Eri had decorated at the beginning of the month, hundreds of lights in an array of colors glistened off his bedazzled sweater.

           “It’s time to hand out the gifts!” Yamada announced, hands on his hips, a bright smile adorn his face. As Eri giggled with glee, Yamada leaned over and scooped up five gifts, all with Eri’s name on it. There were about fifty or so gifts under the tree, all but two designated to Eri. Most had been bought by Yamada or Aizawa, but there was at least one gift from each student of Class 1-A and a few from the faculty or other students like Mirio. There was so many gifts that Yamada was nearly winded by how many laps he had to take to deliver all her gifts.

           “Got enough gifts, kiddo?” Aizawa chuckled, Eri’s eyes wide from the pile of gifts surrounding her on the couch, enough to make a fort out of. “How are you going to choose which to open first?”

           “Ah, here’s yours, Sho,” Yamada held a tiny box in his hand, adorn by a giant candy striped bow that Eri helped Yamada tie. It was lopsided, but Aizawa appreciated the gesture as he was handed the box, giving his husband a tiny nod of thanks. Yamada then retreated back to the tree and picked up his gift, which was poorly wrapped with napkins and duct tape. Shouta wasn’t the best at wrapping and didn’t have the time to enlist Eri’s superior wrapping skills. Nevertheless, Yamada held the box in his hand with joy.

           “What do I do now?” Eri asked, trailing her fingers along the edge of a bright red rectangular present, a green bow sat on top with Iida’s name fancily written below. He was in charge of collecting the gifts for Eri, which he took incredibly seriously.

           “Start tearing open some presents, kiddo!” Yamada beamed, carefully stepping over her pile of gifts to sit on the other side of her. “See what you got there.”

           “Um,” Eri pulled back the tape as careful as possible. The heroes watched her meticulously pull back the wrapping paper, not ripping even an inch, revealing the stack of educational coloring books Iida had chosen after being at the store for over an hour. She traced the photo of the funnily colored mushroom, wide eyed. “Now what?”

           “You open the rest of them,” Yamada laughed, leaning over to pat her on the head. Her eyes were still wide as she looked up at Aizawa.

           “Do you want some help?” Aizawa asked with a small smile, which grew three times larger when she nodded. He grabbed the coloring books from Iida and put them on his side, starting the pile of opened gifts. He and Yamada each grabbed a gift for them to open, Aizawa handing Eri something smaller, easier for her to manage.

           “Open them like this,” Yamada nudged the girl, then ripped the wrapping paper as loudly and viciously as he could, eyes ravenous like a wild animal. He opened up the box inside to reveal an action figure of All Might. “I bet I can guess who this one is from.”

           “You might like this a bit better,” Aizawa scoffed as he wrapped a bright pink scarf around her neck, the same color as Uravity’s costume. Eri giggled happily, then tore into the small gift she was holding, revealing a box of deluxe crayons, curtesy of Yamada.

             Snowballs flew around the city center as hundreds decided to join in on a snowball fight between two young boys. Aizawa recognized some of the figures he saw below as police officers or very small town heroes, deciding to take their families to the city for the holiday. Dark eyes scanning each person, Aizawa looked for trouble. He didn’t except anything, but a big event like this could hide something malicious. Last year, Aizawa had chased down a petty criminal who could melt into the snow and steal wallets. This year seemed rather tame, just a few delinquent teenagers pushing people into the snow, but before Eraserhead could do anything, an adult would chew them out and embarrass them into stopping.

           Childish screams filled the air, sending Aizawa to look all around, making sure they were screams of joy. One scream in particular caught his ear, sending him to run across the rooftop to get a closer look.

           “Stop!” A teenage boy with spiked black hair sat in the snow, writhing around as his white haired friend tickled his ribs. His eyes glowed yellow as he laughed, trying desperately to grab his friend to make it stop. Aizawa simply stared, a strong sense of melancholy washing over his brain. He could almost feel phantom fingers tracing his sides, making him shiver just like it did back then.

             “Zashi, no,” Most of Eri’s gifts had been opened, but a few remained in the pile. They had taken an unprompted break as Yamada opened one of Eri’s gifts, revealing it to be a paint kit, then deviously threw himself onto his husband.

           “What’s wrong?” The blond cooed, holding a paint brush in his hand, poised like a snake ready to strike. Eri had to crawl onto the floor to avoid being hit by the mass of limbs that struggled on the couch. She opened a bag full of candy, having no reaction as she stared at the duo, enthralled by their actions. “I thought you liked painting!”

           “Get away,” Aizawa struggled, pushing Yamada’s chest, but the position gave him no vantage. Yamada’s legs had become wrapped around his own, helping the DJ stay in place as he finally reached Aizawa’s neck and began to stroke the sensitive skin. “Hmmph.”

           “Come on, now. Let me hear that laugh,” Yamada stroked the brush down the side of his neck, then used his free hand to gently scratch the stubbly area beneath Aizawa’s chin. He tried his best to turn away, but the smile that crept onto his face was big and bright, making Eri’s little heart soar when she saw it. This was not the first time she had seen them do this and it definitely will not be the last. She liked seeing both men happy, especially since they made her happy too. Ever since she learned to smile again, she wanted to see everyone smile. Everyone in Class 1-A happily obliged when she asked, except for Bakugo, but she eventually saw it after some probing. Though the smile that took the longest for her to see was that of Aizawa, despite her being around him the most.

           “Get off,” A little giggle slipped out of his clenched teeth, incapable of wiping the smile away. Yamada changed tactics. He kept swirling the brush around his neck, paying careful attention to the edge of his jaw up to his ear lobe. His other hand began to wander, tip-tapping down his sternum to his belly. His nimble fingers violently vibrated over Aizawa’s stomach, resulting in Aizawa to slap a hand over his mouth, sheathing the giggles that reverberated in his throat.

           “Sho-sho, let me hear that laugh,” Yamada whispered into his ear, his voice huskier than normal, sending Aizawa wild. He tapped his feet furiously, but not wanting to hurt his husband, he tried his best to restrain the frantic flailing.

           Feeding off of the excited energy, Eri crept across the floor, dodging around the wrapping paper and tossed about boxes. As silently as possible, Eri plopped down behind Yamada and stared at the mess that was the tangle of legs. Eri reached out carefully and squeezed Aizawa’s knee cap.

           “Trick or treat?” Eri said, looking out from behind Yamada, her eyes as wide as her smile. Aizawa didn’t know if it was the ticklish sensation in his leg or the hilarity of her words, but the dam broke, and the room was filled with his deep laugh.

           “Trick or treat!” Yamada laughed, pulling Aizawa’s hands away from his mouth and pinned them any way he could. Eri kept squeezing Aizawa’s knees and Yamada dropped the paint brush and thrust one hand under an arm and his other hand made contact with the inside of a thigh.

           “Stahahap!” Aizawa let out a snort before falling back into a deep belly laugh, a rarity for him. It wasn’t very loud, just a deep, melodic laugh that suited him quite well and made Yamada swoon. It was a stark contrast to Yamada’s laugh, much like everything else, but it was perfect to them. It helped that Yamada knew how ticklish his husband was, especially on the inside of his thighs and along his neck, so it was much easier for him to get a hearty laugh out of him whenever he wanted to hear it. It also helped that Eri was now around and enjoyed learning about tickling too.

           “What’s wrong, Sho?” Yamada asked, before nuzzling his neck with his mustache, eliciting a stream of giggles that were a bit higher than normal. He bit his ear lobe as he reached the hand from the armpit onto his hip, sending Aizawa up the wall. “Are you ticklish, by chance?”

           “Hihihi ‘Zashihihi!” Aizawa let out a low squeal before devolving into silent laughter. His black eyes tightly shut, the tiny wrinkles in the corners kissed by tears.

           Blond hair traced the outline of Aizawa’s face as Yamada stared down at him, his hands retreating back to his sides. Eri could tell by the pitch in his voice that Aizawa had enough of the ticklish onslaught. Eri had learned early on about breaking points, mastering them with ease. She rarely managed to reach a person’s breaking point alone, her fingers too small and clumsy to be the most effective but had experienced it by teaming up with either Aizawa or Yamada.

           “Eri, we need to run,” Yamada’s voice went serious after a moment of soft coos and affirmation, gently stroking his husband’s cheek as he recovered. He had felt Aizawa’s body tense, which he took as his sign to flee. Quickly, he turned around and grabbed Eri by the wrist. He lifted her up and brought her into his chest, stumbling off the couch and making his way into another room.

           With a slide, Yamada and Eri slipped into the closet, shutting the door silently. The wall around them was filled with delicious snacks that Eri adored, making her little stomach rumble as Yamada held her tightly, the two squished into the back corner. His neck was craned like a bird, his chin resting on Eri’s head, both sets of eyes staring at the door. A wave of fear washed over both of them, the hair on their arms raising in the anticipation of being found. Eri strained to listen, hoping to hear the silent hero, but she knew it wasn’t going to happen. When Aizawa didn’t want to be heard, he wasn’t.

           Feeling a bit villainous, Aizawa sat on the couch for a bit, wanting the anticipation to kill them slowly. In the meantime, Aizawa reached down and found his gift from Yamada. He popped the top off the box and saw the hand blown glass ornament of Eri smiling back at him. A soft smile graced his face, knowing all the love he was going to give his husband later and he stood up and hung it near the top of the glistening tree. He then stretched his arms above his head, preparing himself for the battle he was about to fight, then silently slipped out of the room, hunting for his prey.

           Eri tremored in Yamada’s arms, both from fear and excitement. This was the longest Aizawa had led them on, and it was killing them. Not only did they both scream in unified terror when the door was thrown open, but they also let out a collective sigh of relief for it to finally be over. The shadowy figure leaped in, snatching them in both hands and dragged them onto the soft rug in the middle of the room. Yamada gasped in fear as he noticed the capture weapon adorn around his husband’s neck, knowing that while they outnumbered him, they were royally screwed.

           “Honey,” Yamada’s voice shook, the capture weapon wrapping around both his wrists and Eri’s. Eri’s tiny body was pulled closer, so they both laid side by side, their arms trapped above their heads, Aizawa sitting on his own knees, lingering above the duo. “You don’t have to do this.”

           “I don’t have to do what?” Aizawa purred, his voice low. With a devious grin, he placed a hand on each of their bellies, feeling them squirm beneath him. He mentally noted which side Eri was on, not wanting to overdo it with her too soon. His hands are strong enough to accidentally hurt her, so once he attacked, he lightly scratched at her belly, slipping his hand beneath her shirt with a feather-like softness. She squealed as the callouses on his fingertips accentuated the ticklishness of her skin.

           “SHO!” Yamada screamed, then was silenced in a second by the flash of red in his husband’s eyes. The silence was temporary as Aizawa released him from the grip of his quirk, allowing him to laugh freely as he had enough time to adjust the pitch of his laughter. His cackles were quite endearing, something that only happened when Aizawa stuck a finger into Yamada’s belly button. He never had to actually wiggle the finger around his husband’s navel to make the blond laugh, it just tickled like hell on its own.

           “It tickles,” Eri giggled, her happy giggles adorable. Her belly wasn’t nearly as ticklish as Yamada’s, which was good for Aizawa. He did then switch to kneading at her ribs, which raised the pitch of her laughter just a bit. He also switched to kneading at Yamada’s ribs, which resulted in a near kick to the face.

           “Sorry!” The DJ snorted at the glare he received, then screamed as he felt the hand dart up to an armpit. “Nohohoho! I’m sorry!”

           “That was quite possibly the meanest thing he has ever done to me,” Aizawa teased as he pulled his Eri hand away and brought it down against Yamada’s other armpit. He stared at Eri, giving her a smile as Yamada lost his mind, completely ignoring the chaos that was happening with him. “Do you know why he did that? Acting like one of my problem students, don’t you think?”

           “He’s really loud,” Eri giggled, ignoring Yamada screaming at her for help. She rolled over and sat up onto her knees, poking his now sore cheek. “Can I help?”

           “Why not,” Aizawa shrugged, pulling a hand away so she could tickle his armpit with both hands.

           “TRAITOR!” Yamada screamed, thrashing beneath Aizawa, who was now perched on Yamada’s thighs. His blond hair was a tangles mess on the rug, his glasses knocked askew from his thrashing, though with the tears blurring his vision, his glasses wouldn’t help much anyways.

           “Wanna see him lose his mind?” Aizawa asked Eri, bouncing a little as Yamada thrashed, Aizawa feeling like he was in a boat in the ocean during a category five hurricane or on a bucking bronco that refuses to be tamed. Yamada may be smaller, but he was very strong when he needed to be.

           Eri nodded, smiling up at Aizawa. She thought that Yamada was already losing his mind, but maybe she was wrong. Giving her a quick wink, Aizawa bent over his husband and pressed his face into the side of Yamada’s neck. With a scream, Yamada flailed and snorted. Aizawa’s stubble was a villainous tool that he enjoyed using against his spouse, especially when he was being as mischievous as he had been today.

           “I’m going to die!” Yamada squealed, unable to scoot even an inch away from his husband’s kisses, the stubble completely wreaking his brain and senses.

           With a huff, Aizawa pulled away, crawled off his husband, and scooped Eri into his lap in one single motion. Yamada curled into himself, still giggling wildly. As they waited for him to recover, Aizawa mindlessly braided Eri’s hair, having become a pro since dating Yamada, his golden locks were fun to style.

           “That was fun,” Eri said quietly as Yamada sat up, still wearing a wide smile. Aizawa let out a happy huff, giving Eri a small smile as he tied the end of her braid with a hair tie he had in his pocket. He was always keeping them in his pockets with Eri around. She wasn’t the best at keeping track of them.

           “I did too,” Yamada let out an embarrassed laugh, then leaned over to ruffle Eri’s hair, ruining the top of the braid, much to Aizawa’s annoyance. He playfully glared at his husband until noticed Eri and Yamada staring at him in wait. The faintest blush rose to his cheeks as he rubbed the back of his neck. Eri’s tilted her head to the side, unknowingly making him blush even deeper.

           “Fine, I liked it too,” Aizawa muttered quickly. His eyes fell to the floor as Eri let out a tiny giggle.

           “Oh, c’mon Shouta,” Yamada leaned forward, wiggling his fingers teasingly. “Don’t make us tickle you again.”

           “I said I liked it,” Aizawa hissed with no malice. He looked down at Eri and matched her smile. “I had fun too.”

           “Let’s go open some more gifts!” Yamada cheered, arms above his head. He bounced up to his feet and scooped Eri up. Holding her above his head, he mimicked the sound of an airplane as he ran into the other room, Eri giggling merrily.

             Aizawa sat alone on top of the building, overlooking the world below. Despite the biting cold, Aizawa hugged himself, feeling the warmth he had shared with his loved ones two days prior. Their love kept him warm for the rest of his patrol, and the memories kept a smile on his face for the remainder of the night.

[aggressive-positivity-network]

Hello! I was wondering if I could get some childhood headcanons for the mercs, thank you!

I’m taking a break from the longer headcanons - I’m finishing all my existing requests before opening up my headcanons back up - so I’ll do this one to get the gears turning. There are two here, but I will do more if prompted:

TF2 Merc Childhood Headcanons

Spy:

Spy was a shy child. Painfully shy.

His family was poor, so he had to steal most necessities. By the time he was twelve, he could hop or climb over most fences and hide in most buildings.

The entire reason he became a spy was seeing poorly translated VHS tapes of American espionage films. Spy was frustrated that he never looked the part - he had no suit, no cigarette, no girls.

But, not to worry, he would get all of those things when he went to Britain for schooling.

As a child, though, all he could do was pretend.

He had a “gun” made out of sticks and rope, mimed having a tie, hat, and overcoat, and drew a few shaky feminine features onto a pillow (whom he dubbed Mademoiselle Coussin).

This change in play actually helped him socially: whenever he felt nervous, he would just pretend he was a spy instead of a petite, messy-haired boy with freckles. This caused his popularity among the street boys to spike, and they were soon at his beck and call.

However, despite his fulfilling life as a street rat, he turned back into that timid mouse of a boy whenever he was home. He never dared use his charm on his parents. He already caught a flogging when he tried slicking his hair back.

This led to an odd, one-sided relationship with life where he put on two different masks for two different places, but could only be his true self when he was alone.

He learned to stifle and release emotions at will (keeping himself from crying when he was hit and then letting the tears flow when he was fooling unsuspecting tourists), and was cynical about any relationship that didn’t benefit him immediately or at all.

Except for one.

Every Christmas, a specific fruit vendor, an elderly man named Lucas, came to town. He would give one piece of fruit, usually an apple or peach, to every child that came to his stand. They never had to pay - they only had to say Merry Christmas.

Spy only hung around the stand for the first few years - his house was so far away that by the time he got there, most of the fruit was gone - but one Christmas, Lucas beckoned him over.

The vendor reached beneath his cart and pulled out a single orange, which happened to be Spy’s favorite.

“Joyeux Noël.”

“J-joyeux Noël, monsieur.”

Lucas held out the orange, which Spy accepted gratefully and held in two tight hands.

“Merci beaucoup, monsieur! Merci, merci!”

Lucas only smiled and waved his hand.

This became a tradition for many more years.

Spy would come to the cart, wish Lucas a warm holiday, and would receive an orange that had been saved for him.

But, one Christmas, Lucas didn’t come. Nor the next one. Or the one after that.

Even though Spy knew he was never going to get an orange from that cart again, he still went to that street every Christmas until he left France.

Now, whenever Spy receives an orange, either as a mandated vitamin supplement or if he happens to steal one from a witness’s house, he puts it in his suit, only eating it in his smoke room.

And if he is feeling particularly nostalgic, he’ll, just like he did when he was a child, eat the peel.

Heavy:

Heavy had a wonderful childhood compared to most of mercs.

His father was only vaguely present - and later absent - but his mother was a huge force in his life.

Though Heavy was never bullied exactly, since he was big even as a child, he was ostracized for his size and general clumsiness.

He often broke things, hurt other kids and even staff, and put holes in the wall simply because he was a pre-schooler in an elementary schooler sized body.

But, no matter how many calls she got from the school, Heavy’s mom knew that he wasn’t violent - all she asked was for him to try and fix what he had broken and apologize to the people he had hurt.

“My child, a bear may be big, but they are strong and beautiful. So are you.”

One day, after a particularly rough week of shattered vases and bruised classmates, Heavy ran from school into a random building, blinded by tears and shame. He ended up ticketless in a large theater, but he was only a child, so no one noticed. They assumed he was just someone’s kid.

He ended up on the roof, breathless and gasping between sobs.

Suddenly, he heard an orchestra beginning to play. He looked through a glass pane built into the roof and gazed at the stage below.

He saw one petite ballerina making her way across the stage, doing a few twirls as she went. Then, a much bigger man, who was almost as big as Heavy’s father was, came from stage right and joined in the dance.

Throughout their performance, Heavy kept wincing, expecting the enormous man to crush the small woman. But he never did. The performer moved with grace and a quickness that the boy didn’t expect.

Something awakened in him - a realization that he too could be nimble, despite his size. As the performance ended, Heavy went back down the stairs, his confidence renewed.

He became fascinated with ballet, and watched tapes of shows over and over again until he knew all the steps by heart. At first, he only moved his feet so his arms wouldn’t break anything. Then, as he grew more controlled, he learned how to dance and step around things.

His mother got less calls home, more and more kids began to trust and like him.

He still wasn’t popular by any means, but at least he could play soccer without breaking someone’s arm.

With that success came interests in all things quick, dainty, and detailed. Heavy learned how to knit, paint, and play a bit of piano. He was never very skilled at any of them except for knitting, he enjoyed practicing his coordination and mitigating his clumsiness.

But, one day, Heavy made the mistake of bringing his knitting to school. It was around Christmas, and he had to finish his sister’s sweater so he could wrap it.

The boys, who now knew that Heavy wouldn’t hurt a fly, started teasing him mercilessly, calling him a sow (female pig), a bitch, an old crone, and all sorts of other nasty names.

Heavy, with growing frustration, said something along the lines of, “Will it be your dead mother, then, who will mend your shirt when you are old? Or will you willingly catch your death?”

What Heavy didn’t know was that one particular child’s mother died a few months ago.

The boy went into a rage, giving Heavy a black eye and a bleeding nose before he finally took him by the underarms and held him away from him like a rabid chihuahua. Finally, the boy tired himself out. The other kids had since run away, not wanting to get in trouble or get beat up by Heavy.

The bully, after finding that he was helpless to the situation, began to cry, letting out all the emotions he had been shoving down in order to save face in front of his abusive father.

Heavy went straight into protective mode, having dealt with his younger sisters and their own grievances. After the bully calmed down a bit, he admitted his feelings, and how awful his circumstances were.

Heavy didn’t say anything much, but just handed him a pair of knitting needles and a ball of yarn. The boy learned to knit that day, and after Christmas, many other abused boys came seeking the same kind of closure and validation.

He made many friends this way, and it pretty much eradicated his bullying problem - so much so that he was pretty much untouchable to anyone looking to make trouble.

Though violence is how Heavy makes his money now, the merc learned from the very beginning that the best way through life is a gentle touch.

[saturatedboy]

Can I pretty please get some angst with Donna confessing her feelings for Reader but Reader declines, saying she doesn’t return her feelings and also has feelings for someone else (preferably Alcina or even Heisenberg)

Donna Beneviento x F!Reader

Warnings: angst, possessive language

Words: 4K

Requests: open

The outside had turned the mud ground into a blanket of white snow. How long has it truly been since you went outside? A week, maybe 3 weeks at tops. You missed the cold air, running through the forest playing 'hide and seek' with some unexpected visitors. Gosh you hate to admit it but you missed going to the family meetings at the church where Mother Miranda would talk about her plan.

You were just a journalist from Britain, looking for an adventure but somehow your so-called-holiday in Romania came to a sudden stop wen you were taken by Mother Miranda and had a Cadou paced in you. You had slight PTSD of the pain you had gone through but you were deemed to be an 'undesirable' vessel for something you were never given further information upon. So you were thrown to the side for Donna take take home and for Angie to have a 'playmate'. However, what Mother Miranda didn't suspect was that the Cadou had in fact affected all your sense so you could hear, see, taste, feel and smell much more than an average human. Of course when Donna found out about this, seeing you see perfectly in a pitch dark room during you and Angie's game, she grew here suspicions and kept it a secret.

It was only after she saw that, that she had decided to keep you inside away from any of the other Lords and Ladies. Donna had thought that if any of them found out about this that they would want you for their own personal reasons. So what was better than to keep you locked inside away from any of them. If only she saw the incoming feelings that she would gain just by being in close contact with a human for a long period of time.

Breathing hot breath onto the glass window, you drew a bunny sniffing a carrot with some strange looking trees in the background. Leaning back feeling proud of your drawing, you ran a hand through your hair and straightened it out. "Having fun?~" A voice came from behind. Twirling your head around you were face to face with none of than Angie the doll. She smiled and crooked her head to the side, admiring your small drawing, floating closer to see it clearer.

"I suppose, it's just boring staying in here all day without seeing anyone else." You sighed and looked down, letting your body rest with your back against the window sill and your legs dangling off the window sill. Angie looked at you then back at the bunny. She knew how badly you had wanted to go out, and she was more than sure it wasn't healthy for a human to stay inside for long periods of time. Tapping a finger against her mouth, she gasped in surprise and pulled against your hand, wrapping her small hands around three of your fingers. 

"Come come! hoho, I have an idea~" She sang out, pulling harshly on your fingers making you slightly wince. 

"Okay okay I'm coming, just keep your voice down. You're getting louder each day." You had jumped off the window ledge and landed perfectly on your feet. Using your other free hand, you had patted down your grey dress and straightened the veil on your head, only to be dragged into various rooms by Angie and her excited giggles, making the bottom of your dress become crinkled from the quick movements.

"If I remember correctly, if you can't go out then we'll just invite people to come see you hm?~" The doll had purred out once she dragged you into the office room on the first floor. Her voice held a slight tone of mischief making you think about backing away from her and going to go back to sit and wait for Lady Beneveinto to come back from the meeting. But if you did that, you may just loose a chance of seeing someone else other than Angie and the other puppets. You followed her reluctantly near where the large oak desk was with a black leather chair occupying the floor behind it. "Yes yes, that's it! Now just sit down there and take some of the paper from the filing cabinet underneath that desk! oooo this is going to be o fun!" 

Following the orders, you had taken hold of the seat and leaned down, searching for the filing cabinet under. Just in the far left there it was, 2 drawers with silver handles. Pulling the first one, there in the drawers was paper. Grabbing three pieces of paper, you pulled yourself back up and shut the drawer with your foot. Moving around a little on the chair, you got yourself comfy and waited for Angie's next words. "Wow, no wonder she really likes you! You're so obedient-anyway~"

"Wait Angie, who do you mean by 'she'?" Angie was swaying across the room, laughing softly as she heard your question. She had her back turned to face you so you couldn't see the growing smirk playing at her mouth. She wouldn't ruin who liked you because it wasn't her position to-However if she didn't confess to you sooner or later, Angie will have no choice but to in fact tell you herself. Just the thought of you both together had her internally screaming in merriment, the way her owner would stare at you when you were sleeping on the couch or even when Donna would create you clothing perfect to your size to see you wear them. Angie knew Donna was so much more merry with you around, her heart had practically been in love with you since you first ever came. Getting back on task, Angie flew over to the coffee table behind the green couch and grabbed a pen that was sitting above some recent sketches of Donnas plants. Grabbing it within her grasp, Angie had swiftly floated back to you and waved the pen in front of your face, your eyes following its movement.

"Now, use this to write letters to the other lords and Lady! We could throw a party~ OOO and you can meet everyone more! Great time to meet people right~" Liking the idea and forgetting about your past question, you had plucked the pen from Angie's grasp and started to write in formal writing to the other Lords and Lady.

"Angie," You asked her as you had finished writing to the other rulers. Angie hummed as she was sat with folded knees on the desk and was picking at some splinters in her wood arms. "What about Mother Miranda...shouldn't I be thrown into the death pile by now?"

"Ah ah," you placed the pen back down, passing the letters to Angie who had called some other puppets to walk in with envelopes in their arms. "You were suppose to die but it appears you survived the Cadou. Mother Miranda doesn't care much about the failed experiments, such as you, so she gave you to us~ Aren't we just a happy family~"

You stayed silent, watching the doll place the letters into the envelopes and signing the back of them, most likely applying the other Lords and lady addresses. She gave them back to the puppets and signalled them to go off, their feet scurrying away as quick as they could to deliver said letters. Clicking her gears about, the doll had stretched her arms up and stood on the table waving her hands about. "C'mon lets go get ready. I made a few adjustments to your writing and they should arrive hopefully around 6 sharp. Hoho lets get you spiced up!" As soon as she said those words, she flew out of the room in what you could only think to be to go to your room you were staying in. Sighing out, you brushed away any lose strands of hair and stood up. Smiling to yourself, you strode out of the office room and made your way to your room, lifting your grey dress up when it came to walking up the rickety stairs.

When you followed down the few hallways, you arrived to your destination. Turning the silver knob, you pushed over the heavy door to reveal Angie throwing clothing all over your room. "Angie could you at least try keep my room clean," You spoke as you wandered over to your bed where most of the discarded clothing were. Picking them up of your sheets, you cradled them all in one arm and placed them onto a rocking chair that was seated in the far corner of your room.

A groan came from inside your wardrobe, followed by the appearance of the wedding doll slamming shut your wardrobe door. Huffing, she crossed her arms. "There is nothing here! Nothing good. hmmm, Argh! What are we gonna do?" Silence filled the space between you both. You hadn't got a clue what was wrong with the clothing you had, Lady Beneviento made them all for you. You were grateful for the beautiful clothing you had been gifted with, treasuring each one making sure to never tear any of the fibres in any of them. 

Soon however the silence was broken with the noise of the manor door opening and the soft sound of wind from outside. "Ooo~ Looks like Donna is back eeee! Lets go say hiiii~" The doll had hovered near the door, waiting for you to follow. Making an 'o' with your mouth, you followed the doll out of your room and down the steps where you were greeted with Lady Beneviento waiting for the both of you. She was mid-way in putting her veil behind her head when she spotted you at the top of the stairs. Smiling sweetly, she held her hand out inviting you to join her.

Plucking the front of your dress you, you walked down the steps being careful not to fall as Angie had glided past you into Donna's arms giving her a hug chanting her name over and over. "Donna! Donna! Donna you're back! Now lets play, No wait lets eat! Ahh, no. Lets get ready for the party- wait no!" Donna raised an eyebrow. party? Now that was news to her.

"What party?" She asked, holding Angie out as she saw you walking in the background towards her.

"Well, hehe. We decided to host a party~ You know, meet...the others...heh?" Angie squirmed out of the holding of Donna and turned to the side to allow you to greet Donna. Curtseying, you showed respect to the Lady of the Manor. Her hand moved to be under your chin. After she moved your chin up so she could see your face showing worry.

"You are holding  party without my permission?" She asked softly, brushing your jawline with her thumb watching your every move. You gulped, feeling much smaller than Donna in the current position and feeling the pressure of guilt seeking into your heart.

"I'm so sorry milady-It's just I haven't been able to go out or see anyone else in a long time. I didn't want to go against you in anyway! I swear," You panicked, feeling Donna's hand become slightly tighter until she released you and brought you close in by snaking an arm around your waist and pulling you into her chest, only to snake the other around and give you a hug. She rested her head on your shoulder and inhaled deeply smelling your shampoo from the morning shower you had before she left for her meeting.

"I'm not mad dear, just tell me next time. However I wish you to not make any agreements with any of my siblings." She pulled away from the hug, still having her arms wrapped around you, and raised an arm up to cradle your cheek. "I wouldn't want you to get hurt by any of them," Her whisper had been tense, like a warning. She gave your temple a kiss, pulling away and smiling once again. "Well if I know Angie, I'm sure the party is being today. Come, I'll fetch some clothing for you to wear for tonight." She stepped out of arms length and began to walk, her shoes clicking against the wood on the floor. You watched her go, only to get nudged by Angie to go follow her. You hastily ran after her, following her to her quarters of the manor. You hoped nothing bad would happen tonight.

Donna had sat waiting patiently for you on a stool. It took 3 hours to create the most elegant dress she could, having the top a little tight with a flowy bottom. In silver hand stitches, were roses crawling up from the bottom of the skirt to the top. Gibeon gemstones were decorating the sweetheart neckline with a sheer of black fabric attached to the top going down to the bottom of your wrists. Donna decided to let you keep the opaque veil, finding it completing the look of your dress. "Do you need any help at all?" Donna asked, sitting waiting for you with hands on her knees.

"No worries, I am....done!" You exclaimed, stepping out behind the folding screens. Your appearance made Donna stand up. You couldn't see her reaction behind her veil but you knew from her movements as she paced herself towards you she was proud of her handy work. Once she was stood in front of you she clasped her hands tightly together.

"Now don't you just look like the perfect doll, all dressed up...for me,"

You tilted your head to the side. "What was that last part Lady Beneviento?" You asked like a lost puppy. She giggled lightly and took hold of your arm, slowly dropping her hand down to take hold of your hand. 

"Do not worry about it, now I think it's time for you to meet my siblings. They are downstairs at the moment already." You nodded and smiled softly. Finally you were going to meet other people! Or monsters...from what Angie has told you and Lady Beneviento from the past. Letting Donna walk in front of you, her hand still in yours, you followed behind her as she lead the way. You could hear many voices from below as well as Angie's screaming and two people arguing. A pit in your stomach had been created. Were you really ready for this?

You had reached the stairs, hiding behind Donna's height. This was it, all voices had became quiet. More likely staring up at Donna. Donna had coughed, clearing her voice. "I'd like you all to meet someone close to me. Be respectful for any foul behaviour towards her I will attend to by using either force or a violent way to manage you." You lightly gasped, you knew Donna to never be someone to ever be violent so her proposing words had left you slightly on edge. Without any warning, Donna had stepped to the side and used her hand to guide you to stand next to her.

You looked below to see three young girls, all dressed in black. A fish like monster with a hunched back and a crown made from bones. A very tall woman flashing a motherly smile at you with a large black hat on her head. And lastly a man that held a hammer that you were sure to be maye just slightly smaller than your own height over his shoulder. Gulping, you waved at them all which resulted in the three girls squealing with Angie. "Oh wow she's just like a doll all dressed up!" One with blonde hair had spoke.

"I know right hehe~ Lady Donna had dressed her up perfectly~" Angie spoke, being just as excited as the rest to see your appearance. Donna gently pulled you closer to her and then walked down the steps. You trailed behind her seeing the three girls go back to their conversation with Angie whilst the fish man went to go towards the office room. Once at the bottom of the steps, both the tall woman and male walked over to you with smiles of their own. Donna had let go of your hand and stood beside you staring behind her veil at the approaching people. She was seething with unseen anger.

"Hello there dearie~" The tall woman spoke, her red lips highlighting the fact she had pearly white teeth. You blushed as she said 'dear'. Her voice to you was very attractive. The male beside her had playfully bowed to you, reaching for your hand with his gloved one and lightly kissed your knuckles.

"Now now Donna, why do you keep this beauty of a fine woman away from us all?" He asked, letting his lips linger on your knuckles as he spoke, only pulling away when the woman in white had hit him on the head.

"I'm sure Lady Beneviento had her reason you man thing. Now give the lady some space and keep your dirty paws off her." She harshly flicked him on the head and turned her attention back towards you. "My name is Lady Dimitrescu, and what might the alluring dazzling girls name be here?" You shyly looked away, rubbing your hand up and down your arm feeling the material below scratch slightly at your skin leaving a tingly feeling.

You bowed your head and spoke with a smile, hiding all your nerves. "My name is (Y/n), its an absolute pleasure to meet you all." Absolutely loving your manners, Lady Dimitrescu had gently stroked your hair.

"Such lovely manners~" She purred out, staring deeply into your eyes that were almost hidden behind your veil.

"Yeah yeah and my name is Lord Heisenberg, but please doll call me Karl~" Heisenberg had spoke, letting his hammer drop to the floor next to him so he could lean against it. Hearing the rather loud noise, you turned your eye sight to stare at him. Seeing your head turn to look directly at him, he grinned and pushed he glasses to the end of his nose sending you a wink. You 'eeped' and looked the other way in embarrassment.

'Keep yourself together!' you shouted at yourself in your head as you huffed out harshly and took a breath in, turning back around to face everyone. Donna wasn't having any of this. How dare they all come into her home and flirt with what is hers. Her doll, her creation, her property.

"How about we go have lunch." She seethed out through closed teeth.

"Oh what a marvellous idea. Say (Y/n), why don't you sit next to me and we can talk more about your life. I'm sure we could also discuss days you could meet me and my daughter. Oh they'll love you, such a graceful woman as yourself is sure an eye-catcher." Lady Dimitrescu had spoke out, grabbing your hand and leading you astray with Lord Heisenberg following behind shouting out how you should instead come to his factory and explore the real world. 

As Donna was left behind, she clenched her fist tightly. To see you walk away with her siblings sent shivers down her spine. You were a beautiful woman, there was no doubt about it so of course you were going to catch the eyes of at least one of her siblings. But she didn't expect you to just...just follow them like that. "Is this jealousy I can smell?~" Dona turned to look at Angie. 

"I have no clue what you're talking about. She doesn't like them, she's only just met them all." She denied, taking a stroll to meet everyone in the dining room.

"Just remember you fell for her when you first saw her~" Angie called from behind making Donna stop in her tracks. She was right, she did indeed fall for you after she set her sight on you. You were so beautiful, everything you had ever done lead her to believe that there was a connection between the two of you. You had spent most time with her, surely you had fallen in love with her. She'll just make sure to claim you before any of the others do. Better to tell the truth then later. And so tonight, she had told herself she would confess to you, confess her feelings and get you to become her other half.

You were stood outside on the porch. Lady Beneveinto had asked you to meet her here after the lunch you had with the other lords and ladies. You felt happy to be within the presence of others instead of just you and Donna being the only functioning people with blood and skin. The weather had became slightly warmer and left with a full moon in the sky. You had your veil pulled back after Heisenberg had asked to see your eye colour. You blushed slightly as the thought of him, however your blushed increased when yo thought of Lady Dimitrescu. How could two people have such strong effects on you. Gosh you felt like you were about to faint in there with their teasing about your height as well bout your manners, though Lady Dimitrescu did say they were perfect.

The door behind you opened and out came Lady Beneviento. You glanced at her and nodded in acknowledgement. "Evening Lady Beneviento." You said, seeing her stand by your side. 

"What do you think about them all?" She asked suddenly catching you off guard. You raised an eyebrow and took a moment to think.

"They are...different from you. I know that for sure. However I do believe that each have their own personality which makes them fun in a way. Not to mention they were all really kind towards me tonight and I felt honoured to be within their presence." You finished with a beaming smile. Donna hummed, looking at the forest in front of her manor. Inside she could hear her siblings fight and Angie chanting cheering them on.

"What do you think about me?" She turned her full attention to you, taking your hands in hers and looking up at you. You couldn't see her facial expression because of her veil but nonetheless, you thought.

"You are someone who takes control when needed. Although quiet, you bring a comforting atmosphere with you everywhere you go. You're really sweet a well and thoughtful, which is why I treasure every dress you give me." Donna listened carefully to your words. She was extremely happy you liked the dresses she makes you, and to also be told that you loved her being around too. She bit her lip in anticipation, maybe this is the right time to say what she is needing to say. Inhaling deeply, she cleared her throat and stepped closer to you, placing her hands on your hips.

"I need to say this because it's been playing on my mind ever since you got here and was given to me. From a playmate, you have made your way past that and became much more to me. What I’m trying to say is that- I love you.”

You stayed in silence, a soft wind brushing through your hair as you looked at Donna.

“Lady Beneviento I- I don’t know what to say.” Your face had turned a slight red, feeling a weird feeling in your stomach- like you were about to faint. Donna held your hands tighter, your knuckles turning white from loss of blood.

“Just say you love me back! Easy right?” Again you had stayed silent, looking away from her to look at the manor door instead. You felt her grip loosen however, you could move your fingers about. “Right?” She pressed on, her voice quivering a little.

“I can’t love you,” you placed her hands to rest in her chest. Slowly you took your hands away from hers and left her standing in shock- not that you could see. “I love someone else, I’m sorry Lady Beneviento. I’m sure someone will love you as much as you love them one day.”moving yourself away from the awkward conversation, you had left Donna standing alone on the porch, going back inside only to be greeted by both Heisenberg and Dimitrescu.

Dropping her hands to the side, Donna had gripped the side of her dress. Her shoulda slowly shook up and down growing rapidly in speed. A single breathy laugh left her throat. “If you don’t love me-

I’ll make you love me.”

[raindancer2004]

A mate for Christmas? - Alec

Word Count: 1,375 Alec x Swan reader Oneshot Warnings: Angst,  Fluff

Alec –

Demetri, Felix and the twins joined Aro and Marcus at the Cullen’s house for Christmas; Caius refusing to go as he knew the ‘Dog’ would be there. “Caius sends his apologies Carlisle, but he couldn’t join us for Christmas. He decided to stay back and keep things in order at the castle” “I understand Aro. We’re glad that you, Marcus and the guard would come” Carlisle replied.

Carlisle led them upstairs to where the rest of the family were waiting; including Y/N Swan, Bella’s sister.

Alec noticed her the moment he entered the room; Y/C hair, Y/C eyes and your scent hit him like no other had before ‘Blueberry and Vanilla’ He felt a pull towards her and a knowing smile from Marcus confirmed it; Y/N Swan was his mate.

The Cullens exchanged gifts and Y/N handed him a small gift neatly wrapped in blue wrapping paper with silver Stags “For you.” He took the gift and gave her a small smile; opening it revealed a dark green scarf and glove set “I know you don’t feel the cold but I thought they’d help you blend in a little better when you’re around humans when you’re on missions during the winter months” Alec laughed at her; Demetri smacked his arm and shook his head at him, Alec turned to face him and just glared at him. Y/N got up and went into the kitchen to get a glass of water; choosing to sit at the dining room table whilst playing a game on her phone. 

Jasper could feel everything Y/N felt at that moment; hurt, humiliation and inadequacy. Y/N felt like she wasn’t good enough for him ‘stupid little human, buying a gift for someone like him. I shouldn’t have bothered’ she thought, Edward and Jasper growled at Alec “What’s your problem?” Alec asked “You! You are my problem. You don’t deserve her” Jasper growled back. Alec raised his hands to use his gift when he felt Demetri’s hand on his shoulder “Don’t Alec. Jasper has a point; you did laugh at her and at the gift she gave you” Demetri said looking at him “Yes but…” “But what?” Bella cut him off “I’d never use it; I don’t need it” Alec replied “She told you one of the reasons she bought you that particular gift. The other reason was you could wear it when the two of you went out during the winter months… whilst she is still human” Edward said, Alec just sat there as though he was a scolded child “Brother go talk to Y/N” “Really sister?” He asked almost in disbelief “Yes she did something nice for you…when was the last time a human did something nice for you?” Jane asked “The secretary doesn’t count…even if she said she’d rather you kill her then Felix” Demetri added smirking.

Alec got up and made his way to the dining room “I owe you an apology” He said low as he entered the room; noticing the shocked look on Y/N’s face “I’m sorry I laughed at you; at the gift you gave me. I now understand why you gave me such a gift even though I do not need it” Y/N sat there and nodded at him as he took a seat beside her “You don’t need to apologise because you’ve been told to. I know that for you; one of the witch twins having a human as a mate is something to be ashamed of so just get the rejection over with so we can both move on” Y/N replied, her voice held no emotion “I-I’m apologising to you because I want to not because I was told to. I have no plans to reject you either. That wouldn’t do either of us any good” He replied back with a determination that Y/N was not expecting “O-ok, don’t get your panties in a twist” She replied and the laughs coming from the vampires in the other room didn’t amuse Alec, although Y/N bit her bottom lip to hide her smile. “I like her” Felix said nudging Demetri “She’s a brave little thing saying that to him” Jane mused.

“How about we go for a walk and get to know one another a little” Alec said standing up “Ok. Let me grab my coat” Y/N replies. A few minutes later she’s dressed to go outside wearing a blue and silver scarf with matching gloves and her dark blue winter coat. Y/N notices Alec is wearing the scarf and gloves she bought him “It’s to help me blend in remember” He smiles at her “Green looks good on you” She smiled back. They make their way out of the house and walk into the woods at the back of the Cullen house “What’s your favourite colour Alec?” She asked as they walked “Green, funnily enough” He replied “What’s yours?” “Y/F/C” She replied “My favourite animal is Y/F/A. What’s yours?” Alec thought for a moment before replying “Sharks. I watched a documentary on them a few years back and have been fascinated with them ever since” “That’s probably because they’re predators too” She replied smirking “Huh – you have a point” He says as he turns to look at her letting his ruby eyes darken a little; a smirk playing on his lips as she backs away slowly, he steps towards her slowly “Mmm…such a pretty little human” He says low as he stalks towards her like she’s prey “Run” He whispers and watches as she turns and does exactly that and waits a few moments before slowly running after her.

He watches as she looks around as if deciding which set of bushes she could hide in ‘Demetri would love this’ he thought to himself and flashes forward so he’s in front of her and catches her easily; burying his head into her neck and growling low “Got you” She lets out a soft giggle when she feels his teeth lightly graze her neck “Th-that tick-tickles” She says squirming in his hold “Who knew humans could be so fun?” He asks smiling before kissing the tip of her nose and pulling her into his chest; his arms wrapping around her. A few moments pass and she pulls away slightly and leaning up she places her warm lips to his cold cheek placing a kiss there; he can’t help the smile that appears on his lips and feels her head rest against his chest once more. He hears a familiar voice; Felix’s voice “Ahh young love” If Alec could blush, he would be, being caught in a tender moment with his mate, his human mate.

A few hours later they are cuddled up on the sofa together underneath a blanket as they watch ‘It’s a wonderful life’ with the Cullens and the Volturi “Merry Christmas Alec” “Merry Christmas little human”

Each year when winter rolled round again and Alec had to leave on missions, he would wear the green scarf and have the gloves in his pocket “This way I have a little part of you with me when you cannot be with me” He’d tell her each time he left “Aww I’ve made one of the witch twins soft” She gently teased him and she tapped his nose lightly with her finger. “You’re my entire world and I fall in love you with you more each day” He kissed her lips gently “I’ll miss you” She said low resting her head against his chest “I’ll miss you too” He replied resting his head on top of hers gently.

Every year on Christmas day Alec made it a tradition to wrap himself up in the scarf and glove set Y/N bought their first Christmas together, making sure she was wrapped up too before taking her into the Tuscany countryside to play hide and seek with her. Upon their return to the castle, they would snuggle under blankets and watch ‘It’s a wonderful life’ This tradition lasted long after he turned her as this was the little part of her humanity that he wanted to keep to alive; for the Christmas they met was the first time he had enjoyed that holiday in his long life and he didn’t want it to become just a shared memory.

[winterfluffs]

Santa Isn’t Real.....Right?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader

Summary: Someone has told your daughter that Santa isn’t real. Your husband is not too pleased. 

Warnings: Mostly fluff. A couple of swear words. Tiiiiiiiniest bit of implied smut.

Word count: 2.4k

Author’s notes: Thank you all so much to the people who have liked or reblogged the first story that was posted (I have now figured out how to make a cut!). It really means a lot!  This drabble, one-shot - whatever you’d like to call it was so much fun to write; just in time for Christmas! I hope you all like it as well. Also, it is a LONG one. 

Merry Christmas, everyone! Happy Holidays!

(* “Honey, go to bed.”)

“Who told my kid that Santa isn’t real?!” A voice boomed through the halls, heavy footsteps quickly stomping through the quiet compound. 

“Shit. Hide.” Clint Barton's eyes widened as he looked around at the people spread out in the living room. The heavy footsteps came quicker causing everyone in the room to run back to their rooms fear of what was going to happen.

----

 “Daddy!” A tiny teary voice cried out from the hallway. 

Bucky Barnes groggily opened his eyes, his ears immediately picking up on the soft crying. “Whsm?” He grumbled before sitting up and rubbing at his tired eyes. It was only 2 A.M. and he had just gotten to sleep an hour and a half ago. 

“Buck?” He felt you stir, your hand reaching out to pull his body back to yours.

“Daddy.” The soft crying was closer, coming from the doorway of yours and his bedroom.

“Belley?” you mumbled sitting up next to Bucky. A yawn escaped both your lips as your sniffling four-year-old daughter crawled up the bed. “Honey, what’s wrong?” 

“Daddy.” Isabelle looked at her father with tear filled blue eyes, her bottom lip quivering as Bucky wrapped his arms around her. 

“It’s okay, baby. Daddy’s here.” He cooed sweetly in her ear his vibranium hand making slow comforting circles on her back. 

You watched as Bucky whispered sweet words in your daughter’s ear in an attempt to calm her down from whatever had shaken her; your heart ready to burst with love at the sight. 

“Belley, tell daddy what’s wrong.” He cradled her close, rocking her in a comforting sway. 

“Santa isn’t real!” the little girl sobbed, her tiny hands wrapping around her father’s neck while she cried into his chest. 

Bucky's jaw clenched as he looked at you with slight worry. James Barnes had always been beautiful to you; but right now, seeing his jaw clench and already knowing what was going through his mind, he was breathtaking. He was in protector mode – a way he had always been with you but became even more fierce when your daughter was born. The day he found out you were pregnant he swore no one would ever hurt his little girl. Ever. And if someone did, he would make them pay.

“Baby, what do you mean Santa isn’t real? Of course Santa is real.” You joined your other half in trying to soothe your daughter’s tears.

“No! Santa isn’t real!” she spat back at you before clinging back onto her father. 

Your mind went back to the day you both found out you were expecting. Bucky knew, without a doubt, the baby would be a girl; his princess, a complete daddy’s girl, the spitting image of the dark-haired, blue-eyed man that had stolen your heart.

 And she was. 

From the moment Isabelle Marie Barnes made her entrance in this world she had her father wrapped around her little fingers. Everything Bucky did was for you and your little miracle. All the late nights staying up to finish a report, the even later nights spent training, his reluctance to do missions that would take him away from home for too long – it all was for you and your baby. 

Bucky refused to be a dad that wouldn’t be there for his child, and to yours and Bucky's surprise, the rest of the team had agreed as well. Steve and Tony especially. 

You blinked away the tears that were forming in your eyes, shaking off the sudden emotions to hormonal changes due to your being six-and-a-half-months pregnant with your second child.

“Baby, you need to tell me what happened.” Bucky’s jaw twitched again. You saw the anger forming in his eyes and placed a loving hand on his arm, squeezing it slightly. He looked at you, his resolve coming undone as he met your gaze. “Honey, Santa is very real. How else do you think you get presents on Christmas Eve?” he spoke quietly, deep blue eyes looking into even deeper bluer eyes.

 Isabelle stayed quiet yet looked between you and her dad. “Sweetheart, did you have a bad dream?” you moved her long tangled dark hair away from her face. She looked so much like her father your heart ached. 

Isabelle shook her head pouting while doing so.

“It’s okay, baby. You can tell mommy and daddy what happened. We won’t get mad.” You smiled at her yet gave your husband a stern look. The super soldier rolled his eyes then kissed your little girl’s hair, his head resting on top of hers. “Right, daddy?” 

Bucky shot you a look then sighed heavily. “Mommy and daddy won’t get mad, sweetheart. We promise.”

Feeling slightly better at your admission, Isabelle sat down on her father’s lap, her tiny fingers running along Bucky’s vibranium arm. “I was in my room when I heard a noise.”

“Honey, that was just daddy going to bed.” Bucky let out a loud laugh, the tension instantly gone from his face.

“Daddy, let me finish.” She looked back at him with a stern look. The same look you always gave him whenever he was teetering the thin line between being stupid and wanting to sleep on the couch. 

“Sorry.” You both hid a smile; you still in awe at how formal your child was at the age of four. Maybe it was the enhanced serum in her veins, or maybe it was just your thickheaded stubbornness, but your daughter was an absolute force to reckon with. So much so that she even gave Black Widow a run for her money. 

 “I heard a noise and went out to see what it was.” She sniffed, her head resting against Bucky’s chest.

 “Honey, you know you should have been in bed.” You sighed suddenly feeling exhausted.

“Mommy. You promised.” Her dark blue eyes landed on you.

“Yeah, mommy.” Bucky smirked giving you a playful look. You rolled your eyes yet couldn’t help but smile as well.

“I went out in the living room and saw someone taking presents from the tree! I asked if he was Santa and the man said that Santa wasn’t real.” Isabelle’s bottom lip quivered causing your heart to ache.

Bucky’s face had gone hard. The twitch in his jaw told you everything you needed to know. 

“Honey, Santa is most definitely real. Right, daddy?” you urged your husband to smile, pleading with him not to say anything. 

“Yeah, baby. Santa’s real.” He spoke lowly, his eyes focusing on the open door.

 “How do you know, daddy?” Isabelle looked up hope filling her pretty eyes.

“Oh, I never told you before?” he snapped out of his trance and looked down at his daughter.

“No! Tell me what! Daddy!” she bounced in his lap; her previous worries quickly turned into curiosity.  

“I’m going to tell you but you have to promise you won’t tell anyone.” He whispered.

“Not even mommy?” her eyes widened.

 “Mommy already knows.” He gave you a smile as you rested your head on his shoulder. 

“What I’m about to tell you is very important. You have to promise me you won’t tell a single word to anyone.” 

“Not Uncle Steve?”

“Not Uncle Steve.”

“Not even Aunt Tasha?!”

“Not even Aunt Natasha.”

Isabelle looked up to face her father, the look of awe and wonder etched on her brow made Bucky almost break. He loved nothing more in his life than you, your daughter, and the little one growing inside of you; his heart clenched at the thought of any of you ever being unhappy. 

“Okay, daddy.” Isabelle nodded her head seriously. 

Your husband kissed you on the top of your head with a smile before turning back to your daughter. “I know Santa is real because I’ve seen him myself.” He whispered causing Isabelle to gasp out loud. 

“You…..ve seen Santa.” She whispered, her little mind spinning with the newly found news.

“Sure have. One Christmas Eve I was coming home late from work, even later than it is right now, and when I opened the door, there was a big man in a red suit with a long white beard. He had the biggest sack of presents I have ever seen. I tried to sneak away but he caught me.” Bucky’s eyes widened to match his daughter’s, her little body clinging to his every word.

“What happened next?”

“He looked at me and said, ‘James Barnes, I know what you seek in life, what you have always sought out. By midday today you will have found what you are looking for.’ And then with a smile and a wink, he flew up the chimney.” 

“Wowwwwww!” Isabelle gaped in disbelief. Her daddy! And Santa Claus! Clearly Santa was real because daddy knew everything and she also knew that daddy would never lie to her. Of course Santa was real! There was just one thing still bothering her. “Dad, what did Santa mean when he said all that weird stuff to you?”

“He meant that I would find mommy. He gave me your mommy. And then he gave me you. My best girls.” 

You looked up to find him beaming at the both of you. Your heart burst with love for him and your little family. Your one true love and happiness.

“I think it’s time we all get back to bed. We don’t want to miss Santa!” You gasped suddenly. “I think I hear footprints on the roof!”

“Oh no, mommy!” your little one gasped and flew off the bed racing down the hall to her bedroom. 

“I love you, Barnes. Thank you for always taking such good care of us.” You whispered your eyes meeting your husband’s.

“I love you, doll. More than you both will ever know.” He smiled and kissed you gently. “Let’s go make sure she’s actually in bed.” He laughed while wrapping his arm around your waist and hugging you close as you walked to your daughter’s room.

----

“Night, munchkin. Olive you.” Bucky kissed his daughter’s forehead then pulled away with a smile. 

“Olive you, daddy.” Isabelle giggled while hugging her favorite stuffed animal to her. 

“Tuck the little one in and I’ll meet you back in bed. I have something to finish first but I’ll meet you straight back there.” 

“Babe, you aren’t going to do something stupid.” You gave him a look. That same look your four-year-old gave him just a little while ago. When your husband refused to meet your eye, you tried again. “James.” His cool blue eyes stared back into yours, a hint of threat still clouding his vision as he quietly cursed himself for inability to hide his emotions from you. “Baby, please.” 

Bucky sighed then nodded. He hated to love when you used his first name to get him to calm down. No one else had that power over him, and there was absolutely NO ONE else allowed to call him by his first name other than you. And maybe Santa, if Isabelle was asking. 

“Thank you.” You mouthed before turning to your little one. “Night, baby.” You kissed your daughter’s head with a tired smile. It was just past 3 A.M. and you wanted nothing more than to slip back into your warm bed, your arms around your husband as the both of you drifted off to sleep. “I love you, kiddo. Get some sleep.” 

“I love you. Night, mommy.” She yawned sleepily. You quietly shut the door and went to turn back to your bedroom. You were halfway down the hall when you knew something wasn’t right. And then you heard the yelling. You swore under your breath and ran to the main living room, hoping you would be able to stop your husband before it was too late.

----

“Who told my kid that Santa isn’t real?!” Bucky Barnes’s deep voice boomed through the quiet compound, his footsteps heavy and quick.

 “Shit, shit, shit!” Clint swore as he tripped over himself as he tried to reach his room before he was caught. 

“If I find out –“ Bucky stopped himself mid-sentence his eyes sweeping over every inch of the room. “Barton, if it was you - so help me God! You had better run for your life!” 

“Bucky! *Дорогая, иди спать. [ Dorogaya, idti spat’].”

Bucky turned to face the voice that had just spoken out. A surprised look overtook him for a moment before he started to laugh. “Since when do you know Russian?” he smiled and walked over to you, his previous mission already forgotten as he slipped his arms around your waist.

“Since I married a really sexy Russian Sergeant. Had to know all those dirty words he was moaning in bed.”

“I’m from New York.” He moaned against your lips, pulling your body closer his striking blue eyes staring into your own. 

“Still moan dirty Russian things in bed.” You smile and bring your lips to his. Bucky held you there loving the feeling of how close you two are. “I love you, Sergeant Barnes.”

“I love you, Mrs. Barnes.” He smiled while hugging you close. “Let’s get to bed. Don’t want to be awake for when Santa comes.”

“I’ll be right there.” You kissed your husband and patted his butt with a smile as he walked off. You went around turning out the lights stopping at the beautifully lit tree when you heard a door creak.

“He’s gone, Barton. You can come out now.” You called out into the darkness with a laugh. “You owe me.”

“Oh, I’m not Clint, Mrs. Barnes,” a voice replied with a chuckle in their voice. “But I am sure he will still say thank you anyway.” The voice chuckled again; this time louder, deeper causing your eyes to widen. 

You hurried down the hall, trying your best to keep quiet until you reached your room.  

“Babe, what are you doing?” Bucky sleepily looked at you as you ran into the room and dashed under the covers.

“I think Santa is in our living room.” You whispered into the dark. You felt your husband chuckle, his body warm and inviting as he pulled you in closer.

“Get some sleep. It’s been a long day and our little one will have us up in only a few hours.” He yawned cuddling into your body.

‘Maybe I am going crazy.’ You shook your head with a smile as your eyes slowly began to close. Just before you drifted off you whispered a goodnight to Santa almost feeling silly to be saying the words out loud. 

Just then you heard a woosh and with a small chuckle a voice said, “To all a good night!”

[biletdoux]

x marks the spot | x.dj

Member | xiaojun (nct) + gender neutral!reader Rating | g Genre + Tropes | childhood friends to lovers!au, idol!xiaojun, romance (fluff) Warning(s) | none, unless you consider badly written fluff something to be wary of lol Length | 5.1k+ Prompts | “Make my wish come true, all I want for Christmas is you.” - Mariah Carey (All I Want for Christmas is You) + “I should be playin’ in the winter snow, I’ma be here under the mistletoe.” - Justin Bieber (Mistletoe) Playlist | All I Want for Christmas is You - Mariah Carey // Mistletoe - Justin Bieber  // My Everything - NCT U

Summary | You were five years old when you met your best friend.

(Or; the cycle of waiting and wanting between you and Xiaojun throughout the years.)

Note: For the Walking in a Winter Wonderland Collab hosted by @suh-insane​ and @neocitybynight​! Merry Christmas and have a happy holiday season, everyone <333 let me know what you think!

yo,,, fluff is so hard to write, so mad respect to all the fluff writers out there. 

“Hey—”

You were five years old and had a knack for stating the obvious.

“You’re not Chengxiao!” Your voice was loud and annoying, the shrill ring of it reverberated throughout the open roof. Your index finger, straight and stern, was aimed right at his face in accusation, as if it was a sin to not adhere to your expectations. “Chengxiao was supposed to be here, not you!”

The boy who was indeed not Chengxiao, as you so clearly pointed out, sniffled even louder as he clutched at his toy buccaneer sword. All around you, drying linens and laundry swayed gently in the summer breeze to the sound of his soft sniveling, before he broke out into an all out sob.

You were five years old and also insensitive in the way that five year olds were. 

“Uhm,” you faltered, your pointer finger recoiled back just ever so slightly as his cries continued. 

This was not supposed to happen. You were supposed to be playing hide-and-seek with your building friends and maybe grab a popsicle down the street later once you all tired out. You lost the rock-paper-scissors between everyone and had to be the first seeker. You counted all the way to 100 without even peeking once, even though you were tempted many times when you heard the occasional giggle and scattered footsteps.

Chunyang was always the easiest to find between the three of you. He was also five like you and he always hid on the sixth floor of your shared building, usually behind the large potted plants near the stairway. You actually found him behind the leaky plumbing pipes at the end of the hall, but he was still on the sixth floor nonetheless. 

Chengxiao was different. She was seven years old, two whole years older than you and Chunyang, and she was also much smarter than the two of you. It was always difficult to find Chengxiao because she was more tricky and clever than your one-track minded five year old brain. 

When you found Chunyang, the two of you agreed to split up and search for Chengxiao separately, the first one to find her gets the ultimate bragging rights for the rest of their life. When you shook on the deal, Chunyang immediately took off for the stairs, clumsily bounding down the steps with as much grace as a five year old could muster, which left you with only one option remaining; climbing the flight of stairs to the roof. 

The roof was large and vast, filled with a sea of linen and mismatched laundry drying in the wind. The sun was at its peak in the sky as you started your searching, scouring near and wide for Chengxiao. When you nearly lost hope, you noticed a pair of white sneakers belonging to a person hidden behind a billowing bed sheet. You rushed toward it with all your might, already tasting how a sweet a lifetime of bragging to Chunyang would taste on your lips, but as soon as you yanked back the cloth, your mouth immediately turned sour at the sight of a boy with brown hair and teary eyes. 

Your tone was harsher than you intended, so here you were stuck with a blubbering boy and your lifetime bragging rights out the window. 

“Hey,” you tried again. You were five years old and not very good at comforting people. “My mom says children who cry won’t get any candy until they stop.” 

Unsurprisingly, his cries did not cease and you were scandalized by it. The possibility of no candy left you in shock and awe, so why wasn’t he feeling the same as you?

“Who, hic, cares about candy, hic,” he started, every few words out of his mouth was staccatoed by an uncontrollable hiccup.  “If I can’t see, hic, my friends!” 

“Huh?” you tilted your head to the side. “Why can’t you see your friends anymore?” 

It took a few seconds of blubbered hiccups before the boy answered, “cause we moved far away from them!”

You absorbed his words in quiet consideration. How would candy taste if you had to move away from Chengxiao and Chunyang? Not very good, but… 

“Why don’t you make new friends?” 

“I don’t want new friends! I want, hic, to go back to my old home!” Indignant, he lashed back. “I want to go back, hic, and play pirates with my old friends.” 

“I’ll play pirates with you,” you offered. You didn’t think much about the rest of the words that escaped your mouth either. “I’ll be your friend. I want to be your friend.”

The boy was significantly calmer after shouting out his frustrations. He wiped at his tears and for the first time you had a good look at his brown eyes. You didn’t know it at the time, but the boy, like you, was also five years old, and five year olds calmed down as easily as they lost their temper.

“Do you mean that?” he asked, tone soft and quiet. “Would you really, hic, be my friend?” 

Your smile was brighter than the summer sun that day. “Yeah, of course!”

“Okay,” he agreed.

“Yeah, and I can also show you my friends right now too. We’re playing hide-and-seek.” You grabbed his free hand, the one not holding the toy sword, as you tugged him to get off the roof. He followed obediently without a word. 

“What’s your name, by the way?” You asked over your shoulders, your voice ringing through the roof.

“My name is Xiao Dejun.”

You were five years old when you met your best friend. 

--

The air was crisp with the sharp, but refreshing sting of sea salt as the waves crashed onto the side of your ship. You climbed out onto the main deck to check on the progress of the voyage. The waters were steady and your trusty sea vessel rocked to the rhythm of the ocean. There were no clouds in the sky this far out into the sea and the sunlight blinded your eyes, but you didn’t need to see it to know that the treasure was straight ahead. You took another deep breath to savor the thought of future riches before you turned around to go look for your first mate. 

You traveled the expanse of the main deck before reaching the weathered ratlines. The rope felt coarse to the touch as you climbed all the way up to the crow’s nest. Once you made it, there he was, standing and staring out to the wide ocean, probably lost in thought about gold and jewels. 

“First mate Xiaojun.” you called. 

He turned his head and smiled. “Hey, I was waiting for you.”

You fully climb into the crow’s nest and settle beside him. “We’re about to find the secret buried treasure.” 

“Yes, captain,” he nodded his head in agreement.

“What do you want to do with you half?”

“Hm…” Xiaojun was contemplative. “I’ll need to buy another sword. Mine is getting rusty. What about you?”

“I would like to—”

“Class! Recess is over.” Your teacher, Mrs. Huang, interrupted you before you could finish. “It’s time to head back now.” 

And suddenly your trusty sea vessel was no longer a ship, but actually a small corner of the large school playground. The tethered and hardened ratlines melted away to reveal the metal ladders of the play area and the crow’s nest was the slide tower. The sun, however, remained as bright as ever.

Your first mate looked at you and a mischievous glint crossed his eyes. “I’ll race you to the classroom!” He hollered as he threw himself down the slide and took off running as soon as his feet hit the ground. You were not far behind him as you shrieked for him to slow down. 

You were eight years old and you kept your promise to him about playing pirates. 

The two of you became the best of friends shortly after your encounter on the roof. You grew close to him exceptionally fast when you learned he and his family had moved to the same floor as you and your family. Chengxiao and Chunyang liked him well enough and your tight trio grew to accept a fourth corner. 

When school rolled around, you were delighted to find out he was also enrolled in the same school as you and even was in the same class. Since then, the two of you had been inseparable. 

He beat you to the classroom by a few steps and his smile was dazzling as he gloated to your face. You sneered back at him as you watched his fringe stick to his forehead from sweat. 

“I only lost cause you cheated.” 

“Yeah, yeah whatever.” 

You both sat down in your assigned classroom seating, with him exactly one seat behind you. Mrs. Huang announced it was independent study time, so everyone quietly pulled out their books.

When you pulled out yours, you realized you had broken your pencil and had nothing to write with. You pushed your chair back and leaned over on his desk. 

“Hey Xiaojun, can I borrow a pencil?”

He was still Dejun then, but he was always Xiaojun to you.

He looked annoyed, but went to rummage for his pencil pouch in his backpack anyway. “Don’t call me that unless we’re playing. How many times have I told you to call me Dejun? That’s my name so use it.” 

“But I don’t want to,” you huffed.

“And why is that?” Xiaojun found a suitable pencil and handed it over to you. 

“Because,” you took the writing utensil from his outstretched hand. “You’ll always be my first mate Xiaojun no matter what.” 

You returned back to your desk before you could notice the blush that colored his cheeks and you didn’t turn back to him again for the remainder of the independent study time. You didn’t realize it at the time, but Xiaojun never bothered to correct his name ever since. 

You were eight years old when you became someone special to Xiaojun. 

--

You felt hot and sticky.

Summers in Guangdong were hot and humid in ways that left you gasping for air as if you had been trudging through a thick wall of sludge. The heat was heavy and thick, reminiscent of an unpleasant weighted blanket that wrapped around you at all the wrong times and places. During the summer, the Guangdong sun was angry, and you felt as though its wrath was personal from how intensely the rays would beat down on your back as you hopped from one stall to another. Nonetheless, you were not deterred because you came here on a mission.

You were thirteen years old and wanted to do whatever it took to find your best friend the perfect birthday present. 

You prepared for August 9th tirelessly with impressive care and consideration. You had been casually asking questions and fishing for hints months before the fated date to figure out the most perfect and surefire gift for Xiaojun. When you realized he wanted a new controller for his PlayStation because the ‘X’ on his current one wasn’t working half the times, you knew you had to get him a new one. And so, you started to plan.

Step one was complete. You figured out what Xiaojun wanted, but now step two was in the way. How were you going to get it for him? You were thirteen years old and you had no money. You couldn’t ask your parents for money because then that would mean your parents actually got Xiaojun the present and not you, even though it was your idea. After thinking long and hard, you decided to carefully siphon a small portion of your lunch money each day until you had enough to purchase the controller. Even though the lunch money was from your parents, the money was given to you, so now it’s your money and not your parents’ anymore and you had to work hard to save it, so using this money to buy Xiaojun the gift will be really meaningful.

You were thirteen years old and your logic was a bit off, but your heart was in the right place. 

After months of saving, you finally had enough and couldn’t be happier. You had everything set and just needed to find the time to go out to the electronics store. You were so giddy that you nearly let the big surprise slip one day when you were over at his house. 

It was two days before his birthday and Xiaojun was just at your house yesterday, which meant that today, the two of you would go back to his. Xiaojun’s mother was already used to this and prepared pre-cut slices of fruit for the two of you before the front door even opened. The two of you bowed in thanks before greedily grabbing the plate of fruit before barreling to his room with a large slam of his bedroom door. 

You were laying on his bed munching on an apple slice in your hands and Xiaojun was at his desk on his rolling computer chair with an orange slice in his. Outside of his window, the hustle and bustle of a Guangdong afternoon can be heard, but the noise was far away for you and Xiaojun were in your own quiet little bubble. 

When he finished his orange slice, Xiaojun suddenly perked up. “Hey, you want to see something?” 

“Yeah, sure.” 

He stood up and walked over to his closet to grab a box. Inside, he pulled out two new PlayStation controllers, still in the factory wrapping and all, and your heart dropped. 

“My parents got this for my birthday. They gave it to me early cause I did really well on my exams and they knew my current controller sucks,” he explained. “Want to play that new game? It’ll be so nice to finally have a working ‘X’ button.” 

You felt nauseated and suddenly had to go. You were thirteen years old and you were a little dramatic. 

You never gave Xiaojun a proper explanation for leaving so suddenly that day, but you had bigger problems to deal with. What were you going to do now? Step one was now out the window, but at least you still had the money you saved up, so maybe you can still make this work. It would still be okay because you had one full day tomorrow to go out and shop for his gift. Except that when you returned home, your mom informed you that your extra tutoring classes would be doubled tomorrow because your teacher will be out of town and can’t teach for the next few days. Great.

So that’s how you found yourself here, at the local street market standing under the blazing sun in your tutoring school uniform. It was summer break and your parents signed you up for additional morning classes. By the time you were let off, you’d only have an hour to shop for a gift, until it was time to go to Xiaojun’s party. 

Originally, you thought one hour should be more than enough, but as you drifted from one stall to another, you realized no one had anything just right for Xiaojun and you already promised yourself you were going to get something perfect for him, and you didn't break your promises. By the time you found something perfect for him, you didn’t realize 55 minutes had passed. When you checked the time, your eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets. You were definitely going to be late. You paid the stall lady and barely waited for change as you made a mad dash toward Xiaojun’s apartment.

When you arrived, Xiaojun’s mother greeted you warmly and let you in. “He was waiting for you. He refused to start without you.”

Xiaojun had a small party with only close friends and you were the last to arrive. You felt embarrassed initially, but that was soon forgotten when the party started. 

When it was time to open the presents, Xiaojun saved yours for last, in fact, he didn’t open it until all the guests left and it was only the two of you with his parents cleaning the aftermath of the party in the background. 

He carefully pulled apart the hastily wrapped box and you held your breath in anticipation. He held up the keychain in the air to show the leather strap next to a metal charm in the shape of a ship’s helm. Xiaojun said nothing for a whole minute and suddenly you started to doubt yourself. 

“Thank you,” he breathed. “I love it.” 

His smile made your breath hitch.

You were thirteen years old when your heart started to feel lopsided in ways it had never had before.

--

The paper sitting in front of you was due soon and yet it was still there on your desk, unfinished, as if it were mocking you. You felt annoyed, but you knew at the end of the day this was your fault and only you could fix this, but no matter how hard you grasped your pen, you could not urge words of ink to spill out and fill the page. You were not sure how long you stared at the page, but you knew you had to do something about it. 

You were seventeen years old and you were lost.

With an indignant huff, you grabbed the sheet of paper and marched all the way to Xiaojun’s apartment. Xiaojun’s parents were out, so it was Xiaojun himself who let you in. He was surprised to see you, but welcomed you warmly, glad to see you face.

“Hey,” he already started to make his way back to his room after shutting the front door, not even bothering to look back to see if you were going to follow because he knew you were. “What’s up?” 

Immediately after entering Xiaojun’s room, you plopped yourself face down onto his pillow while holding up the white sheet of paper in the air. “This is killing me,” you groaned.

Xiaojun chuckled before taking hold of the paper. His eyes widened when he read its content. “You haven’t filled it out yet?” 

This sheet of paper was going to determine your whole future. This sheet was going to be your priority list of which colleges you wanted to apply for and which major you were going to study, so your teacher could help narrow it down for you and give you some career counseling. 

“I don’t know what to put,” you whined. “Help me, Xiaojun.”

“Okay, okay, do you know what school or major you’re interested in?” 

“If I knew, I wouldn’t be here.” 

“Fair point. Uhm. What’s the best school you think you can get in?” 

“I don’t know, maybe some local university?” 

“Okay… and major?” 

“I don’t know, whatever department is easiest to get into I guess.” 

Xiaojun gave you a pointed look. “Come on, take this seriously.” 

You were seventeen years old and you were frustrated. 

“I don’t know, Xiaojun! I really don’t have any clue whatsoever and everyone around me is so disappointed because I have no direction, but trust me, I can guarantee you that I’m much more disappointed than everyone around me.” 

Xiaojun’s eyes softened and he moved to sit on his bed near your defeated figure. He rubbed your back gently and his tone was sincere. “I’m not disappointed in you. I could never be disappointed in you.”

You looked up at him before opening your arms wide open for a hug, which Xiaojun granted easily. The two of you laid there in easy comfort despite the impending unknown future that loomed overhead, casting a shadow of doubt in its wake. When you were with Xiaojun, none of that mattered. 

After a while, your head perked up from its place on top of Xiaojun’s arms as you looked at him. “Wait, what about you? Did you fill it out? What do you want to be?” 

Xiaojun laughed, “yeah, I did.” 

You waited expectantly, but he said nothing. You grew annoyed. “Well? What’d you put?”

Xiaojun looked at you. His eyes were soft and warm, but you could see some faint traces of hesitation, like a surface of still water had been disturbed. The pit of your stomach dropped and you felt your throat go dry with nervous tension.

“I want to be a singer.” 

You punched him lightly. “You scared me, cause you got all serious for a second.” You laughed out loud, as if a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. “You’re for sure going to be the best singer in all of China, no, the whole world! And I’m going to be there every step of the way to support you, Xiaojun.” 

“Okay,” he smiled softly, but his tone was almost bittersweet as though he was trying to pull back. “That’s good to hear.” 

“Why are you acting so weird? This is not like you at all.” 

He said nothing at first, but then his words hit you. All the weight off your shoulder earlier returned tenfold. “I was casted. I’m flying to South Korea next week.”

Your heart was pounding as you tried to make sense of the words that left his mouth. You remembered the first time he confided you in absolute confidence about his dreams and aspirations. You remembered countless hours he put into singing and you remembered how often he would stream videos of singers he admired. You remembered all of it.

“I’m,” you started. “I’m so happy for you, Xiaojun. This is it, this is the start of your dream. I couldn’t be more proud of you, Xiaojun, I mean it.” 

The sincerity in your tone had Xiaojun choking on his words and he didn’t know what to say. All that left his mouth was, “what do you want to be?” 

“Me?” Your chest felt heavy. “I think I just want to be happy.”

“Yeah,” he hummed. “I want you to be happy too.” 

A week later, you saw Xiaojun off at the airport. He exchanged tearful goodbyes with his parents and suddenly he was standing in front of you. His eyes looked at you expectantly, as if waiting for something that you were not sure you were able to procure for him. You gave him the biggest hug you were able to muster and hoped all the unsaid things could be transferred through touch. The two of you stayed in each other’s arms until his flight was called. With a final wave, he was off, and when he turned around to walk toward his terminal, you saw a keychain with a metal charm and an old worn down leather strap hanging from one of the zippers of his carry-ons.

You were seventeen years old when you felt your heart swell with undeniable pride, yet break simultaneously. 

--

You missed Xiaojun.

You were twenty-one years old when you came to terms with your feelings for your best friend. It was not an earth-shattering, cosmic-altering, reality-bending epiphany, but rather a quiet revelation followed by unspoken acceptance.

You were currently sitting in economy class on a flight en route to Seoul, South Korea. You had still kept in contact with him throughout the years he was out there pursuing his dreams. You decided to enroll in the local university and you picked a major on a whim. Despite the circumstances, you had really come to terms with it and grew to like it. You were now working hard at developing a solid career from it and you felt proud of yourself. 

When text messages and video calls became few and far between for you and Xiaojun due to busy schedules and time zone differences, you knew he was something more than just a friend. Your heart fluttered whenever you heard his specially assigned notification tone. You felt giddy each time before you opened his message and you read each text at least three times before sending a reply. When you don’t hear from him on days on end due to his busy schedule, time passed by at an unbearable pace. 

Xiaojun made his debut and you were one of the first to pre-order his albums. You constantly gushed and raved about his singing and his dancing. You stayed up countless nights to let Xiaojun vent and de-stress over video call despite having to sacrifice precious hours of sleep. True to your word, you were there with Xiaojun every step of the way while he achieved his dreams, but he was also there for you when you figured out your path. He was there to listen and offer advice as you considered one career path over the other and which internship to take. The two of you were there for each other. 

Due to the very nature of growing up and what that entailed, both of you were very busy and the timing was always slightly off. When you were free, he had to go on tour, but when he was free, you had to go out of town for your internship. As such, you were twenty-one years old and had not had a chance to see your best friend in person for nearly four years since he left for South Korea.

But this year, for the winter holidays, it was going to be different. You were going to make time to go see him no matter what. You were firm on the requested days off and you booked the flight weeks in advance. Xiaojun was kept in the loop of your meticulous holiday planning at all times to ensure that he could free up his schedules at just the right time to see you. 

The two of you never actually expressed your changing feelings for one another, but perhaps you didn’t need to. You had known each other practically your whole lives and what is a relationship if not the constant changing and finetuning of the little details? 

You weren’t blind to the consistent ‘good morning’ and ‘good night’ texts you received from Xiaojun each day without fail, nor was he blind to your constant fretting if he had eaten yet and how he should always be taking care of himself. It was the little things that sung of true love. 

When the two of you had the chance to video call, his eyes would light up with a smile to match and you feel your soul ache in the most tender of ways. The two you lingered longer than necessary when it came to ‘goodbyes,’ but it was to be expected. 

You smiled to yourself thinking about him as you looked outside the plane window. Your flight was landing soon and you felt your anxiety gnaw at your joints while your hesitancy took a bite of your lungs. When you landed, you felt as though the ligaments in your body rusted over and each breath of air you took never seemed like enough to flow through your system. You took a few more deep breaths to center yourself before getting up to leave the plane. 

You managed to calm yourself down a substantial amount, but you felt it lurk back behind you as a sudden chill traveled up your spine during the taxi ride to Xiaojun’s dorm. It threatened to seize you by the throat, but then you realized, this was Xiaojun you were coming to see. 

The same Xiaojun who cried easily and had a pirate phase through most of his childhood. The same Xiaojun who took long bites in between food and would lose in arm wrestling matches. The same whose voice could reach unknown heights with a dedication and devotion to match. The same Xiaojun who was your best friend since childhood. The same Xiaojun whom you loved.

And with that, whatever haunted you dissipated and you found yourself at the steps of his dorm. You watched as your breath came out in chilly wisps as you knocked on the door. The sound of padded footsteps ambling along hardwood floors were heard and suddenly you were face to Xiaojun after a whole four years without him. 

The two of you took each other in. Video calling did not do Xiaojun justice. He really matured into his features over the years and you couldn’t help, but stare. 

Xiaojun broke the silence first. “Hey, you.” 

“Hey, you yourself,” you breathed.

“Come on, don’t just stand there,” Xiaojun ushered as he helped you grab your luggage. “It’s cold outside.” 

You followed him as he led you to his room. You looked around with curiosity as you passed by. The WayV dorm was cozy, but surprisingly empty, not that you minded. When you got to his door, Xiaojun saw the look on your face and knew exactly what you were thinking.

“Everyone’s out right now,” he explained. “I can formally introduce you to them when they get back.”

You nodded and watched as Xiaojun placed his hand on the door knob, before stopping in hesitation. He looked at you in earnest. “Promise me you won’t laugh, okay?” 

“Nothing can phase me, Xiaojun. I practically lived at your house and vice versa, or did a few years abroad make you forget that already?” You teased.

He gave you a look, but opened the door for you nonetheless. You expected a messy room with random socks strewn on the floor and the desk chair stacked high with a pile of clothes, but what greeted you nearly took your breath away.

The floor was spotless and fairy lights lined the walls and occasionally looped around the floor. There was a small Christmas tree in the corner dimpled with various ornaments of various sheen and sparkles. Xiaojun led you to the center of the room where the various colored fairy lights crossed one another’s path. A mistletoe tied on the fanlight hung overhead. 

“It’s beautiful,” you whispered.

Xiaojun smiled as he drew you in closer. “I’ve been waiting for this for a long time. I really wanted it to be something special. Merry Christmas.” 

You started to tear up as you moved to meet Xiaojun in the middle, “I love you, Xiaojun.” 

You were twenty-one years old when you kissed your best friend. His lips were soft and his tongue sweet. He tasted vaguely of vanilla lip balm and peppermint bark, he tasted like the love of your life. 

When you pull back from the kiss, the adoration in his eyes made you greedy for another, so you dove back in, but not before Xiaojun can let out a quick laugh and a reaffirmation. 

“I love you, too.” 

The two of you kissed and kissed again, under the mistletoe. 

You were twenty-one years old and you were happy.

masterlist.

[alpacaparkaseok]

Happy Holidays - BTS Style

4. “It’s not much, but it’s ours.”

20. “Merry Christmas, bub.”

Pairing: Jin x reader

 You spent the holidays much like everyone else: tuning in to watch BTS perform. However there was one obvious distinction.

You had married Kim Seokjin 8 months ago.

It was the classic friends to lovers story; you’d met Seokjin through your friend Moonbyul (yes, the famous one), and hit it off. A year later had Jin confessing to you right before he left on tour, leaving you to dwell on the experience for nearly four months before Jin came back to Seoul. 

After you gave him a piece of your mind (you were seriously mad that he confessed then left), you were able to tell him that you’d harbored feelings for him for a while already. 

That was nearly three years ago. What ensued was an extravagant game of hide and seek from the prying eyes of the media, followed by an earth-shaking v-live in which Jin slipped up and mentioned having a girlfriend. 

Just when you were sure life couldn’t get any crazier or better, Jin proposed. You had choked on your own spit when he got down on one knee; a fact he will never let you live down. 

And now, 8 months later, you were reminiscing on all your memories together and realized that there was one gaping hole in your story. 

The two of you have done almost everything together. Everything, except for perhaps the most wanted thing. 

You have yet to spend the holidays with Jin. When you were first dating, it made sense. You weren’t serious enough to spend the holidays together outside of exchanging some gifts. Now, judging from the ring on your finger, you’d say the relationship is fairly serious. It would be nice to spend Christmas morning with the person you love most in the world. However, you understand that there are many more people who need to spend time with him and the rest of BTS, even if it’s just by tuning into the TV. 

That’s exactly what your plan is this year. Packing up the rest of your bag, you make sure to lock the key to your little apartment before heading out. As usual, a couple of suspicious looking people are strolling about outside your apartment. A couple raise their phones and try to look like they’re not taking pictures of you, but you know better. It was all too easy for Dispatch to find out where you and Jin were living despite the heavy security.

Jin left yesterday morning, the two of your exchanging gifts before the sun even came up. You were still half asleep but your were coherent enough to be sad that you weren’t going to see him for the next couple of weeks. 

He had joked about sneaking you into the New Year’s Eve party that they would be broadcasting just so you guys could sneak a kiss. You had just rolled your eyes and told him you’d give Tuck, your dog, a kiss instead. 

The traffic isn’t that bad, considering that it’s Christmas Eve. By the time you make it to your parent’s house out on the edge of Seoul, night has already fallen and there’s plenty of cars outside the house. It looks like the party is already in full swing. 

“You’re home!” Your mother opens the door before you can even get to it, smiling broadly. “Come in, come in! How are you?”

You smile back at her, instantly feeling better. “I’m great, mom. How’s the party going?”

“Oh, it’s great. Your little brother brought his girlfriend over, you have to meet her!”

You laugh, heading to your childhood bedroom to drop your things off. “I’ll be out in just a second.”

The evening passes in a blur of niceties and good food, your family double checking to see what time the boys will be performing in the morning. Your brother’s girlfriend is sweet, the two of you get along well. 

You’re in the kitchen helping your father with the dishes when he nudges you.

“You remember grandpa’s old cottage?”

“Yeah, what about it?”

Your grandpa had a cute little cottage just a little ways down the mountain, the foundation still strong but it had long fallen into disuse. You and your brother used to go there when you were kids; it was the perfect place to stay when you went on fishing trips.

“I’ve had a friend come look at it, he’s been repairing it. What do you say we go take a look at it?”

Looking around at the party that’s still ongoing, you shrug. “Sure, sounds fun. Let me grab my coat.”

A few minutes later your father stops the truck outside the cottage, the entire place lit up with golden Christmas lights. Your mouth drops open as you look at the little house; it’s beautiful. Almost unrecognizable.

“Wow,” you breathe out. “It’s amazing!” Jumping out of the car, you make a beeline for the cottage only to turn back and see your father still in the car. “Aren’t you coming?”

He rolls down the window. “I’ll be out in a second, I’ve just got to return this call.” When he sees you hesitating to go in without him, he waves you on. “Go inside, look around.”

Turning back to the cottage, you look down at the newly laid cobble stone path peeking up at you from the snow. The cottage is as pretty as a painting, lighting up the thick foliage that stands guard. 

The door doesn’t even creak when you open it. “Hello?” You call out. The lights are all on, the guy who repaired it must be in here.

Stepping inside, you marvel at the interior. It still looks like the cottage you loved to play in as a child, but it’s more elegant now. A great big Christmas tree stands tall in the middle of the room, big red ornaments adorning the surface. 

“How does it look?”

Whirling around at the sound of a familiar voice, your jaw drops as Jin emerges from the kitchen. He smiles at you, watching the confusion grow on your face.

“What...what are you doing here?”

He gestures to the tree. “Just putting the finishing touches together.”

Staring at him, you slowly begin to connect the dots. “Wait, you’re the friend that repaired it?”

Jin nods, smiling softly. “Can I show you around?”

Gently taking his extended hand, Jin takes you from room to room, showing off the beautiful interior design and going so far as to show you the tall oak beams he installed in the foyer for extra support. 

The two of you end up in the kitchen, where Jin breaks out the apple cider. 

“How are you even here right now?” You ask, staring up at your husband as he blushes under your attention. Even after all these years, his ears still go a little red when you’re completely focused on him. 

Jin shrugs. “I managed to convince some people that my performance will be much better tomorrow morning if I could spend Christmas Eve with my wife. I have to go back soon, but I’ve got some time.” He gives you an uncertain look. “I...I got this as your Christmas present, darling.”

It takes you a moment to understand what he’s saying. “The cottage?”

He nods. “I talked with your father, he was planning on just selling the property. You told me how much you loved coming here when you were a kid...I thought that it might be nice to pass it down to you, you know? And this can be our little secret out here, nobody will even know about it.”

You can’t help staring at him in complete shock. “You...you did all of this for me?”

Jin tilts his head, a curious smile painting his features. “Of course I did. I love you.” Scratching the back of his neck, he looks around the kitchen. “It’s not much, but it’s ours.”

Setting your mug on the counter, you throw myself into his arms, burying your face in his sweater as Jin’s laugh rumbles through his chest. “It’s everything, Jin. Thank you.” You squeeze him tighter for emphasis. “I love you.”

Kissing the top of your head, Jin checks the time. 

Midnight. 

Tilting your chin up, he plants a soft kiss on your lips that has you closing your eyes and remembering every kiss that came before it. 

Holding you close, Jin rests his cheek atop your head and hums out a tune, the two of you swaying back and forth. 

“Merry Christmas bub,” he whispers into the quiet of the cottage. Even though it’s nearly tearing his heart apart to know that he’ll have to leave soon, he can finally cross one thing off his bucket list. 

Spending a little bit of Christmas with you.

masterlist

[extremelyblackandwhite]

a very merry sebmas - day 10

pairing: rockstar!sebastian stan x reader

a/n: as a request of @lookiamtrying​ , rock star seb is back

holiday divider by @firefly-graphics​

y/n and sebastian have an incredible thorough christmas schedule

after having two kids, they know exactly how to make sure that the holiday season goes by smoothly and for the very first year of marion’s life, the two of them were proud enough to admit that they almost always had a perfect christmas

of course the universe had to come down on them and ruin their perfectly timed christmas with the addition of both their parents coming to spend christmas at their house as a y/n being pregnant

now, y/n and sebastian had factored the pregnancy, at least the moment they realised she was pregnant

they had never planned for a third baby and marion and jess hadn’t asked for one yet she had gotten pregnant and the two of them were happy about it

however setting a christmas for a large family with two kids and pregnant was proving harder than it should 

y/n woke up on christmas eve without the will to get out of her comfy bed until jess came rushing into the bedroom “morning mumma” “morning, jessie” “it’s christmas eve” “i know, baby. where is your sister?” “she’s playing with daddy” “hm, do you want to make some pancakes for breakfast?” “can we make them into christmas tree shapes” “of course you can, baby”

she pulled the heavy duvet out, happily listen to her son narrating his dreams and how he still had to bake cookies for santa. 

the five year old held his mother’s hand as they walked down the stairs and into the shared kitchen and living room area where sebastian was sat down on the floor watching rankin bass christmas stop motions

she had to hand it to sebastian, he had the patience of a saint as marion had pretty much been requesting to watch rankin bass shorts since november and by now had probably watched it over a thousand times

“morning, bunny” he got up from the couch, pulling her to him and pressing a kiss on her forehead “how many times have you watched this today?” “several, thank you for rescuing me” “jess can you watch over your sister while me and daddy make pancakes?” 

the five year old merely nodded, hypnotised by whatever was on tv

once in the kitchen, y/n leaned against the cabinets “we have exactly 8 hours to prepare everything and i have no energy” “that’s because you’re pregnant, bunny” “i kinda want the baby out already” “only three months to go now” “let’s get this christmas going”

“how do you make them into trees?” “make them circular and then cut them with cookie cutters and then eat the left overs” “you mean to tell me you’ve been eating extra pancakes?” 

the two of them end up just cuddling against each other as the batter cooks, sebastian’s hand laying upon her baby bump, kissing the side of her head 

once they had four plates of pancakes, they brought them over to the living room, making space on the couch to sit next to their children

“can i touch the bump, mumma?” jess asked, his face full of powdered sugar “of course you can, baby” “i hope it’s a boy” “you want a baby brother is that it?”

“what do you want marion?” sebastian asked the one year old who was happily munching on her pancakes, sat in her father’s lap. she merely looked at her mum and dad before returning “don’t you want a little sister?” “no” “okay”

sebastian held in a laughter as she looked at her brother as if he were insane to want another sibling “are you excited to see grandma?” “i am, i’m gonna show her all my new drawings” “aw that’s great jessie”

they spent most of their free time sat on the couch with jess and marion watching their favourite christmas shorts and movies until it came time to prepare for dinner and then all hell broke loose.

jess was refusing to take a bath and marion was pretty much playing hide and seek

“you get marion and i get jess?” “thank you, seb” she kissed him quickly before entering her bedroom where she quickly noticed marion hiding under the bed 

“marion, you know santa can still see naughty kids on christmas eve” “no he can’t” “are you sure?”

sebastian and y/n managing to get both kids in their clothes before going downstairs to meet their parents

y/n’s grandfather still not being completely trustyworthy of sebastian “i’ve seen you’ve knocked my granddaughter again.” “yes, sir” “let’s hope you stop at three”

sebastian following y/n around after that comment and after dinner sitting down on the couch watching the kids open presents

“hey i got the baby something” seb grabbed a little box from under the tree. y/n gave him a surprised look but accepted the box, opening it to see little knitted baby shoes “seb, they’re precious” “i made them myself” “you knitted little booties?” “yeah ... i mean, the workshop lady helped but hey i wanted to make something for the baby” “it’s precious, thank you, seb. i love you” “love you too bunny”

[westerhos]

Our Story: Chapter 6

[December 24th, 1998]

There is something to be said for the peculiar hour of the blue-morning, when a hospital beeps into quiet life. Death rattles behind drawn curtains, expletives are spat over set bones, and shots are taken in the thigh. It is not like Jamie’s Grampian refuge, which springs forth naturally from the earth. Instead, Boston GH scars the landscape, numbing loneliness through morphine drips and the tug of sheer necessity.

It is during this gradual reawakening that Claire hides in a closet, imagines the pink, wet sacs of her lungs contract and expand. She counts her breaths to release the night’s chaos, still lodged deep in her throat.

During the wild evening hours, Claire sees only what exists outside her body. Such an easy thing to do as a doctor, this sudden corporeal separation—a leap into the procedural dance, a temporary loss of oneself to the staunching of blood and the sewing of sutures.

But eventually the window of calm arrives, and the wall of dissociation begins to crumble. Claire, in her closet sanctuary, returns to her body once more, the sight of her arms and her hands like four old friends reacquainted.

Claire hunkers down between two shelves, and relief travels from foot to torso, settling somewhere inside her gut. As always, she has brought her medical bag—a gift from her husband, CER embossed in golden filigree—and rummages through it. As always, she finds the folder and flicks it open, seeking the page that is stowed inside. She is forever tethered to its final sentence, which launches a fresh rip of longing straight to her chest.

And as always, she goes back to the beginning, following the words. Fingers like greedy sponges, text absorbing into skin.

NEW YORK CITY, 11:30AM - The diner hushes when the bell tinkles, announcing the arrival of literary darling James Fraser. He is a giant in more ways than one: six-feet tall, wide-set shoulders, and a critically-acclaimed author with legions of fans. But for all his inches and his clout, Fraser is blissfully unaware of the eyes on his back. When he sits opposite me and shakes my hand, I, like the rest of the world, find him to be impulsively likable.

Sporting one month’s growth of beard and a wrinkled v-neck, it doesn’t take long for Fraser’s roguish charm to earn a complimentary meal. He is quick to thank the waitress, and for not the first time, one has to wonder how the man could possibly be single. Surely his good looks, his talent, and Reformed Bad Boy reputation draws the ladies in?

Point proven: Our waitress lingers, hungry for Fraser’s attention, but he closes his menu after ordering a glass of lemonade. (An odd choice, but then our writing heroes are full of idiosyncrasies, aren’t they?) I almost leap to console the girl, that poor thing, as she runs a self-conscious hand down her apron.

Alas, one gets the impression that it isn’t pickiness keeping Fraser romantically unattached. Nor is it misogyny or closeted homosexuality (despite what those tabloid vipers spit). James Fraser simply enjoys his place in the lonely hearts club—and is perfectly content to stay there, sipping ice-cold lemonade.

Frank’s ring glides across the lines, pauses over “single”. Such a different life, so removed from Claire’s, though here it thrums beneath her hands. Suddenly, her head grows heavier, weighted by the chain draped around her neck. Jamie’s thistle ring dangles there, cold as death. Forever tucked inside her shirts, a secret between her breasts. (Frank lets her wear it, just as she lets him wear his stained button-downs, other women smiling from the collars.)

Fraser’s second and latest novel, Two Centuries in Purgatory, released just last month to stellar reviews. Hailed as a “modern classic” by The New York Times (and truly, it is), Purgatory has found a comfortable seat at the top of the bestseller lists, and shows no signs of losing momentum. Now touring the U.S., Fraser seems nonplussed by the bustle of the Big Apple, his eighth time to our concrete jungle (“I’ve a parade of publisher meetings and interviews tomorrow,” he grumbles). Though he’s a longtime resident of both Edinburgh and Glasgow, he says no city feels like home nowadays. “Where is home then?” I ask him, and in traditional Fraser fashion, he deadpans: “Lost.”

For all his fame and glory, there is something decidedly melancholy about James Fraser. But of course, we all know why. We’ve read his books, haven’t we? We know his story.

Gillian Edgars: Are you enjoying your lemonade, Mr. Fraser?

James Fraser: Aye, verra much so. Lemonade in Scotland doesna taste like this.

GE: Mmmm, exploring the pleasures of America. I like it. Now, shall we begin? Let’s start with Two Centuries in Purgatory.

Claire brings the page a few inches closer. This is not the first time she has read the article, its edges worn to yellowing curls.

A familiar anger sinks its claws into her side as this reproduction of Jamie staggers into a flickering half-life. Gillian Edgars thinks she knows the man behind the book jacket. The entire world, for that matter, believes they can claim the bold-faced names on their hardbacks.

But, Claire seethes, do these people know that Jamie smiles in his sleep? That he’s prone to seasicknesses, could not wink at the waitress even if he tried? No. Only Claire knows these smaller, intimate truths—but still, they are not enough. Jamie is no longer only hers, but a communal being disseminated and shared amongst millions. Strangers have molded her Jamie into something new, into hollow casts of their false impressions.

Without warning, the closet door swings open and Joe Abnernathy leans in. “Knew I’d find you in here,” he says, but he draws up short. His smile falters when he sees Claire on the ground. Falters further still when he reads the headline, "Scotland’s Newest Literary Hero," on the page and on her face.

“Lady Jane, why do you do this to yourself? We’re working, I know, but can’t you try to be merry? It’s officially Christmas Eve!”

Joe kneels down, and levels his gaze with hers—the gentle but silent disappointment of an older brother. Claire holds firm when he pries the clipping from her grasp, the paper snagging the skin of her palm. It glides over and up, a shallow curve that splits into fine, shining rubies. A jeweled J, just at the base of her thumb.

Claire presses the wound to her teeth, tastes the heady, metallic taste of herself. (Later, she will trace the cut with reverence, grateful to be marred, at the very least, by a shade of Jamie.)

Joe tsks and reaches for a shelf, bringing back the first aid kit.

“Perks of hiding in a hospital supply closet. Bandages, everywhere. Take this.”

“It’s fine, Joe,” Claire assures him but accepts the bandaid anyways. “I’m fine—just a bad day and a scratch. See? No significant blood loss.”

“Thought I’d witnessed the first fatal paper cut,” Joe says, but then continues, more softly, “LJ, I thought you’d given this up. That Frank made you promise you’d stop.”

“He did,” Claire replies. “And I did too, for a while.”

Her stomach turns as the memory resurfaces: her husband, feeding the shredder a feast of papers. The machine’s tight-lipped and fanged smile destroying Claire’s collection of articles, her glimpses of Jamie. Frank had held her as the teeth had chewed, tightened his grip when she repeated his words back to him, “Time to leave the past behind.” And afterwards, once the the bin had emptied into the trash, Frank had dragged the bag of shreds to the curb. Claire had looked on, standing in the doorway, a soldier’s wife already in mourning.

(That evening, she almost snuck outside to piece the words together, for old habits die hard and a planet will always yearn for her sun. But then Frank’s arm had risen in the darkness, flopped sleepily across her waist. The weight of it had held her there, and so she’d stayed, picturing the night creatures stealing Jamie away, piece by piece.)

“I just…wanted to see what people were saying. About his new book.” She sighs. “I know I’m being ridiculous. It’s just that…”

“He’s everywhere, isn't he? In the papers, on TV. Saw they’re making a Lifetime adaptation of A Blade of Grass. Jesus.”

Claire nods. “Steering clear of that one.” (But she won’t, of course. Claire will want to see herself and Jamie on that screen, their better, manufactured selves broadcasted in technicolor.)

“You’re really gonna let me down like that, Lady Jane? I thought we’d drink cheap Scotch, put the movie on mute, and invent the dialogue ourselves. Next weekend, the two of us. Drunk and vengeful. Whaddya say?”

“A hard pass, Joe. We’ll be in Oxford for the holidays, anyways. Visiting Frank’s family.”

“Well, la-di-dah. I’ll be on this side of Atlantic throwing popcorn at my TV.” Joe leaps to his feet when his pager beeps. As he walks out the door, his hand flies to his coat pocket and he withdraws a shabby paperback. “Before I forget—a Christmas gift, for the Lady. If you’re gonna scramble your brain with nonsense, let it be Tessa’s ‘membrane of innocence’. Not ‘Scotland’s Newest Literary Hero.’”

Claire laughs and flips through The Impetuous Pirate, inhaling its smell of antiseptic and mildew and the vestiges of long-ago fingerprints. A Harlequin, taken from the hospital waiting room. “Aye aye, captain. But if it’s all the same to you, I’ll stay here in Davy Jones’ Locker for a while longer.”

Joe nods, consoling, before he turns to answer an intern's cries for help.

Alone again, Claire tucks The Impetuous Pirate inside her bag, picks up the discarded article from the floor. For the first time, she notices its publication date, October 20th, was her 31st birthday. She cannot remember the details of the occasion—Did Frank take her to a concert, or to a movie? Buy her flowers or chocolates?—and yet a foreign scene plays so clearly in her mind. It is something cut from the script of her life, the stagehand’s hook pulling her to the wings before she has a chance to speak. Cast in the closet’s dim spotlight, it unfolds as the playact that could have been but never was:

Jamie, in the New York diner, drinking lemonade. Condensation like dew drops, rolling down the pitcher. A young girl in Gillian Edgars’ place, singing a high soprano. And Claire, beside her, blowing out candles in a single huff.

As she slices the birthday cake, this almost-Claire nicks her finger on the knife’s blade. “Kiss to make it better!” the young girl cries, and Jamie does, his lips are on the sting, and then Claire’s mouth. He tastes of citrus, of yellow and sunshine, a marigold paradise in a city of dying autumn leaves. “Does it still hurt, Sassenach?” he asks her. “Not anymore,” she says. And when the little girl giggles, watching them, it is something sacred. She licks the frosting from the candles. “So what’d you wish for, Mama?” she asks, not knowing that, in a moments like these, there is no need for wishes.

Claire’s pager rings, rearranging her memories. Now she remembers her 31st birthday—and knows it did not happen in that diner. On that day, there was no little girl; no citrus kisses in a molting New York.

Instead, Frank had taken Claire to the opera house, a drawn-out affair they had both fidgeted through. Back at home, he had led her to the bedroom and its king-sized bed, had slipped off her dress while she kept her chain on. “Talk to me,” he’d panted, silver thistles against her chest. And when she came, it was not Frank’s body that drew her cries. It was not Frank’s name that rose from her lips.

Claire scans the article, skipping again to the final paragraphs. Here lies the line she reads over and over, the very reason she shells $15 for subscriptions and scavenges in bins for scraps. Anything to discover some evidence of herself, some proof that she still lives in the peripheries of Jamie’s life. And whenever she finds it, it pours into her and lingers, like wine.

GE: Your debut was quite impressive—an instant bestseller, an Oprah Book Club pick, an upcoming TV movie. I’m sure you’ve been asked this before…but allow me to be a hack for just one moment. Let me ask the nosy questions. Let me pry.

JF: I dinna have a fear of rats [SMILES]. Get on wi’ it then.

GE: I appreciate it, Mr. Fraser, I do [LAUGHS]. The protagonist’s struggles in A Blade of Grass—the financial woes, the criminal record, the years of solitude—they seem to mirror your own. Is it accurate to say that the book is autobiographical?

“Randall?” a voice calls from outside the closet. “Randall, are you in there? Mr. Duncan in Room #18 needs to be—”

“Prepped for surgery, I know!” Claire finishes. Her voice is shrill, rising with her goosebumps as she nears the interview’s end. “I’ll be out in a second, Dr. Hildegarde!”

JF: In some respects, aye, A Blade of Grass is autobiographical. Mind, I made a lot of it up myself. Embellished a few things.

GE: Oh yes, certainly. But even without your embellishments, your life does make for such an interesting tale. In a way, your struggles are what made you a literary sensation. But still, I do wonder—do you regret any of it? The gamble, the money, the arrest?

JF: [LAUGHS QUIETLY] I thank ye for the compliment, Ms. Edgars, but I hope my sins are no’ responsible for the book’s success. And for the record, they were largely exaggerated by the press.

GE: Ah, right. We rats are despicable creatures, always desperate for crumbs. But they never fill the belly, not really.

JF: Have ye tried poetry before, Ms. Edgars? You’ve a knack for it [LOOKS AWAY]. But nay, it isna the crimes themselves that I regret most. Whether they were exaggerated or no.

GE: Really? There’s something else [LEANS FORWARD]? Will you tell me then, your life’s biggest regret? Or will you keep me and your readers in the dark, forever wondering what keeps our beloved James Fraser up at night?

Now Claire closes her hand into a fist, forces herself to bleed out from that thin, half-mooned J. She imagines Jamie’s face, inscrutable to Gillian Edgars, but fixed in an expression that she, and only she, can read. And if Claire had been there on that October afternoon, sitting in the diner’s vinyl booth, she would have understood. Would’ve known already what Jamie regretted most, what he would and could not say aloud. For within this precious, final line—their spoken and unspoken wishes:          

JF: My biggest regret? I let the story end early.

(JF: I should have loved her better—God! I should have loved her better.)

_______

I have very few comments about this one, but I will say A) Jamie’s POV comes much more naturally to me—probably because I, like Jamie, love Claire so frickin’ much—so writing this was like pulling teeth. And B) As I was writing this chapter, I knew it was time to bring Jamie and Claire back together. Even I was rooting for them to reunite.

I love Joe and Claire’s friendship, and I wish I’d shown more of it in this fic (although what’s here I think fits pretty naturally). And I have to say...I love Geillis—or the idea of her: witchy, feminist, and confident—a whole lot, despite her Voyager crimes. Here, she is my Outlander version of Harry Potter’s Rita Skeeter, and I could write an entire fic from her voice any day.

[royalcordelia]

Summary:  After returning home from medical school, Gilbert discovers that the neighbor girl, Anne, has gone missing. He won't rest until he's found her, even if it means taking a leap of faith and venturing into his father's old wardrobe. (A Narnia!AU).

Notes: Merry Christmas @londonsboy​!! I was your secret santa this year and I was delighted to get to know you! Talking to you made me remember how wonderful Narnia is, and I realized that Anne of Green Gables and Narnia both have that same whimsical charm about them. I hope your holiday was cozy and lovely!  

*

1: A Child’s Lore

Gilbert remembers the Storygirl. He remembers the red twists of hair braided down her thin shoulders, each tied with bowed ribbons. He remembers the monarch butterflies balancing gingerly on her freckled fingers and the dimples haloing each half of her smile. He remembers cloaking himself away under the shadows of the treeline and watching the girl move slowly through the tall grass. With care and ease, she urged the butterflies to amble onto a nearby flower. 

“Would you care for a story?” she asked them. Gilbert remembers straining his ears to pick up any trace of her voice, tender and easy on his senses. “I won’t fault you if you fly away, but if you have a few moments to spare, I have such wonderful tales.” The butterflies remained in place, fluttering their wings slowly in the warm sunlight. 

“Very well, a story you shall have!” continued the Storygirl. “Once upon a time, there was a beautiful princess named Cordelia. Oh, but she didn’t start out that way. You see, for most of her life, Cordelia suffered the great calamities that all poor orphan girls do…” 

Gilbert’s back slid down against the tree, somehow too captivated to tear his eyes away. He settled on the ground, pushing aside verdant brush to keep his sights on her. Never before had he taken himself as a fellow who enjoyed fairytales, yet something about this tale and her voice left him no choice but to listen. So he listened. He listened and listened until she whispered, “The end!” The blues of her eyes turned toward the trees straight at him as if she’d known he was there all along. And then, she ran off, disappearing into the heart of the valley forever.

He was only thirteen then, but he remembers. 

Now, he keeps the memory of the Storygirl in the same place he stores the memory of his father’s wardrobe—deep in the parts of his mind full of things he’d seen as a child, but could never prove the existence of as an adult. Myths, legends, and fancies of a child’s imagination. There lives the memory of the Storygirl and the days of yore when his father’s wardrobe held clothes, evergreen trees, and sweet breezes. 

Gilbert knows they’re not real. But sometimes he wishes they were.

2: A Silhouette

Avonlea is uncertain and strange when Gilbert finally returns home. As his carriage carries him through town, the heavy feeling sinks deeper into his chest. Where has that ethereal beauty of the island gone? It used to seep out of the red soil like petrichor, but now the air has lost its fragrant charm. Gilbert can’t help but feel as if maybe the magic PEI days of his youth had been but a childish whimsy, stripped away by inevitable adulthood. 

Then, the hazy memory of the Storygirl returns and for a brief moment. Uninvited, but not unwelcome. Gilbert closes his eyes and lets himself recall the details of her face. There’s comfort in his own childhood myths, as if he is not so far gone, after all.  And when he opens his eyes, he’s home. 

From the doorway, it looks like a portrait—Sebastian frozen on the parlor sofa with low hung shoulders, Mary holding his head to her middle and caressing his bushy silk hair. Gilbert emerges from the blue shadows of the entryway. 

He should announce himself properly. Perhaps attempt reentering with a wide smile and some kind of good news to brighten the mood. Instead, he hears himself say, “Who died?”

Mary tears away from Bash with a gasp, soaring over to the door to pull Gilbert’s face into the crook of her neck. 

“Gilbert! Were you due home so soon?” she says after drawing a watery breath. “I think we’ve lost track of the days!” 

“Yes. I’m on time down to the minute,” Gilbert replies with a smile. “Are you...going to answer my question?” 

Mary’s brows knit together in confusion as she pulls away to examine the state of his face. Her fingers smooth over the frown lines at the corners of his own eyes, but it’s Bash who answers. 

“No one died. At least, we really hope not,” he explains, distracting Gilbert from his vague answer by pulling Gilbert close for a hug of his own.  “None of that for now. Take your coat and shoes off before someone starts to believe that this isn’t your own home.” 

For the rest of the day, Gilbert tries to whittle out the truth from Bash at any opportunity he gets. At the lunch table, after recounting tales from college and his boring graduation ceremony. At the kitchen sink, elbow deep in sudsy water. At the foot of the garden, pulling weeds and sprinkling water onto thirsty soil. He tries again and again, but Bash does not budge. 

When evening rolls around, it’s pull has already lulled Gilbert to sleep on the parlor sofa. Across from him, Mary stitches together a small hole in one of his old shirts until her own exhaustion makes her prick her finger. 

“Can’t keep my eyes open a second longer,” she yawns. Depositing a kiss on Bash’s head, then Gilbert’s, she murmurs, “Don’t stay up too long. I want to keep looking in the morning.” 

Bash lets a moment pass when he hears their door shut, waits a few seconds more, then crosses the room to where Gilbert is sprawled out on the sofa. The newly minted doctor stirs at the feeling of his brother shaking him awake. 

“Mary’s gone to sleep. We can talk now.” 

Gilbert’s eyelashes are heavy, but he pries them open at the stony tone of his brother’s voice and pushes himself to an upright position. 

“So...What have you been hiding from me all day?” 

Bash’s lips press together. 

“Did you know the Cuthberts adopted a daughter?” 

“No, I didn’t,” Gilbert replies, confused why it matters. 

“They adopted her just before your father passed away, I heard. You went away to our steamer, then straight to college, so you never had a chance to meet her. But when you sent me and Mary to this house, she was here waiting for us. Someone had told her that she’d be getting new neighbors, neighbors that might face the same sort of hardships she did when she first arrived. She showed us around Avonlea, helped Mary clean the house after being empty so long. Her name is Anne. Anne Shirley-Cuthbert.” 

“Did something...happen to her? Do you need me to see her?” 

“You can’t,” Bash spits bitterly. Then, remembering himself, he says, “She’s not sick.” 

“I don’t understand, then.” 

Bash sighs, balling his fists in his lap. 

“Mary and I went to visit her son in Charlottetown for an afternoon last week. Anne offered to come and give everything a good cleaning while we were gone, as a neighborly gift or something. We tried to tell her that it wasn’t necessary, but she insisted. She’s not one to lose battles. She arrived a few hours past dawn, but when we came back, she was gone. Then we found out she never went home to Green Gables. No one in Avonlea has seen her in over a week.”

Suddenly, it makes sense to Gilbert why the house is weighty with the feeling of loss . It has lost something. Gilbert doesn’t know this Anne, but whoever she is, she took the island’s light with her.

“What do you think happened?” Gilbert asks, rubbing his knuckles over his eyes.

“Someone broke in. Found a woman all by herself with no one around for miles. You can imagine the rest.” Bash holds his fist with his other hand, as if he might hit something if he lets go. “Anne is...a unique woman. Kind and brave. But to Avonlea she is strange and of varlet stock, and with the way they see Mary and I… Only a few families have been willing to help us look for her. Would you? In the morning? You know Avonlea better than us.” 

Gilbert doesn’t hesitate. 

“I will.” 

3: A Recollection

It just doesn’t add up, Gilbert thinks bitterly, splashing cold water on his tired cheeks. His reflection stares back at him, looking just as dejected as he feels. But what else could there be? I’ve already scoured the house. No signs of a struggle. Nothing broken or stolen. Guess I’ll just have to look just as hard in town. See if anyone knows anything. He scoffs. It sounds like something out of a children’s book. A fair maiden walks into a house that swallows her up whole. Too bad I’m a doctor and not a knight. He means it only in jest, but it sparks the flame of an idea in the farthest corner of his mind—the corner containing his childhood and its fanciful inventions. 

And then, there it is. A memory, a reminiscence of sorts. 

One wardrobe. 

One door drawn open.

One small Gilbert Blythe crawling into it. 

He couldn’t have been more than six or seven when it’d happened, nor can he remember why he’d even ventured into the wardrobe in the first place. Perhaps it had been a particularly clever hideaway in a game of hide-and-go-seek. Or maybe his father had sent him in search of his coat and something had tipped him off that there was more. 

The memory itself is relatively uneventful. Little Gilbert opened the wardrobe door, crawled in, and somehow, miraculously tripped into a bank of snow. The bank of snow was only a mere plot of land in a world Little Gilbert was not brave enough to explore. He’d scurried back to the door, but left it cracked open for just a moment longer to memorize the world he’d found. It left an image in his mind that he carried with him forever, a memory just as fond as that of the Storygirl—a patch of evergreen trees, sweet air, and an impossible winter magic. 

Let’s pretend for a moment this memory is actually a memory and not just a childish imagination, Gilbert ponders. If Anne came to clean the house, maybe she opened the wardrobe to clean it and organize it. Could she have fallen in? Maybe she’s lost! Maybe she has no way home and—

Dr. Blythe, get a hold of yourself. Exhaustion has made you mad. 

You’ll assist Bash in the morning, you’ll question the town’s people, you’ll come to the bottom of this. But you won’t be able to find her by courting such preposterous ideas.

4: An Act of Trust

His resolve lasts an entire hour.

Then it dissolves hopelessly and gives way to the memory of the Wardrobe-world.  Pacing in front of his father’s bed, Gilbert weighs whether or not he should indulge his childhood suspicions. It plays over and over in his mind, a frustrating possibility.

At first, he fights it.

If Anne Shirley-Cuthbert is really as headstrong as the Bash has described her to be, then perhaps she left on her volition, tired of small-island life. It can’t be that hard to believe that a woman could abandon a monotonous past in favor of whatever this young century has to offer her. Gilbert’s very last suspicion should be that Anne somehow found a magical world inside a wardrobe and never returned. Yet, here he is, nudging his foot along the carved trim of the wardrobe with an itching to open it . 

Damn it all. What is there to lose?  

Then he does open it. The hinges of the doors screech after being left to sleep, untouched for a decade. At first, it smells of mothballs and the stale smell of his father’s clothes. But seconds later, there’s a hint of sweet—

Gilbert slams the door shut. Absolutely not, he scolds himself. You’re hallucinating. You want this woman to return so badly that you’ll pretend she’s anywhere but dead in a ditch. But then again … Gilbert turns back to the door, placing his hand on the newly dusted wood. Who would know if he indulged in this wild feeling? Shouldn’t he, a trained doctor and an intelligent man, listen to his own gut? 

Alright , he decides. If he’s going to do this, he isn’t going to do it halfway. 

With a short breath, he draws the door open and closes his eyes shut. Then, he’s crawling in, a grown man squeezed into the tight confines of a wooden closet. It’s difficult to breathe above the heavy smell of age and wool, but just like before, it slips away into an unexpected sweetness. Gilbert crawls closer to it, hands and knees finding new space with every pace forward. Behind him, the wardrobe door is abandoned and opened, but Gilbert doesn’t come back out. 

Instead, his fingers find tall, soft grass and his intuition cries in victory.

5: A Twinless Shoe

Gilbert allows himself exactly ten seconds to sit and stare at the pleasant forest clearing before doing what any logical doctor might do in his situation—secede to the visual proof of a magical world and promptly begin observations.

On a first glance, the impossible world-inside-the-wardrobe doesn’t seem all too different than his Avonlea. There are clusters of trees surrounding the clearing, each crowned with vibrant shades of green, moreso than those of home. A mystical softness teems in the air like a breeze, loitering along his skin until he is a mess of goosebumps. A single lamppost towers over him catching sunlight, unlit but clean of moss or dirt. At its base, a leather boot, dainty and slim. 

Something clears its throat, propelling Gilbert’s soul from his body at the shock of it. He whirls around, grass stains on the knees of his trousers. Before him, sits a trio of white-tailed foxes, peering at him with more expression than should be allowed for such creatures. Gilbert tries to steady his pulse but finds the effort unsuccessful. 

“They’re only foxes,” he reasons with himself. “They make all sorts of strange noises. No cause for alarm.”

“That’s a foolish delusion,” the largest of the foxes answers. 

Gilbert blinks. The fox quirks an invisible brow.

“I beg your pardon?” Gilbert stammers. 

The fox stretches, equal parts annoyed and bored.

“With the types of humans that are supposed to stumble out of that door, you think you’d have a firmer head on your shoulders. Wonder what Aslan chose you for?” 

“I dunno, Rambleleaf. Maybe he’s here for entertainment?” the second fox pipes in. Turning her sunbright amber eyes to him, she asks, “Do you sing? Dance? Tell stories?” 

“That is what he brought Anne for,” the third fox adds. “Maybe one storyteller wasn’t enough.”

“I have a hard time believing that this schmuck could tell stories as well as Anne could,” Rambleleaf counters.  

“Anne’s here ?” Gilbert spits out, desperate. The conversation between the foxes dies out as quickly as it started, replaced by a stunned silence. They exchange a glance, as if deciding whether or not to indulge this fumbling fool in Anne’s whereabouts, but Gilbert is desperate. “Is Anne Shirley-Cuthbert here? I’m told she has red hair and freckles.” 

“You...you speak as if you don’t know her?” Rambleleaf queries, eyes narrow. 

“Not personally,” stammers Gilbert. He clambers to his feet and rushes to the foxes, who jolt but don’t shy away. It seems as if he has surprised them, as if they’ve never had a human kneel so desperately before them. “We’ve been looking everywhere for her, trying not to fear the worst. Her parents are friends of mine. They’re worried sick because one day she left to visit my family’s home and never returned. Please , will you take me to her. I need to make sure she’s okay.” 

“How did you know to look here?” Rambleleaf states, unconvinced. Gilbert can give them no answer, but the truth. 

“A feeling. I once came once here as a boy and remembered it, though I can’t say I know where here is.” 

Rambleleaf ponders this, his tail coming up to the underside of his chin, like a hand scratching at whiskers. His eyes trail to the boot underneath the lamppost, then fall undecidedly on the poor fellow before him. 

When finally he says something, it’s—“Who are you?” 

“Me? Oh, um, I’m Dr. Gilbert Blythe.” 

“Well, Dr. Gilbert sir, I’m Rambleleaf, or just Ramble if you’re nice about it. Welcome to Narnia.” The name Narnia sends a warm thrill down Gilbert’s spine to finally hear it. The existence of it is already enough cause for hope. Rambleleaf nudges Gilbert’s hand with a clawless paw and points over to the single boot laying sideways in the grass. “You’re in luck. We’re good friends of Anne’s. She sent us back to find the shoe she left behind, so if you want to see her, you can follow us back to the Larsack village. It’s not far from here. Just a bit north on the west border of the Western Woods.”  

“I’ll follow you,” Gilbert decides resolutely. 

“Good. Then grab that boot and we’ll be on our way.” 

Gilbert does as he’s told, pushing aside the frustration of being told what to do by a fox. With the shoe in his possession, he curses that he didn’t think to bring any sort of satchel or carrier case. Then again, he isn’t supposed to be here long. Just long enough to find Anne and bring her home. 

Then, without wasting another moment, the foxes disappear in the wood, leaving Gilbert to follow. 

And he does, the door to his father’s wardrobe entirely, completely forgotten.  

6: A Duet

They trek through the thicket of the forest until the soles of Gilbert’s feet have grown sore at the unfamiliar terrain beneath them. Having left his pocket watch sitting on his desk back home, Gilbert can’t be sure of how much time has passed—enough certainly for the foxes to have eased their snide opinion of him. He finds they like to listen, asking Gilbert all sorts of questions but offering no answers of their own. 

As it turns out, Gilbert is not so bad a storyteller, after all. 

“—but children believe in magic the way adults in my world don’t. So I told the little girl that the cure for her stomachache was a feather on the underside of her toes and all her laughter made her forget that she had eaten too many biscuits. Sometimes I think medicine has more possibilities than we can know. Certainly being here has…”

Gilbert slows to a stop and turns his ear to the sky. He draws in a quick breath of hope at the faint lilt of laughter, music, and one rich voice towering above it all. 

He takes off running, hopping over Rambleleaf and sprinting down the path. A crowd’s cheers and the minstrel songs grow closer and louder with each wide stride. He all but crashes into someone at the back of the crowd, scanning the clearing for a head of red hair and a face of sandy freckles. There are a few tents set up along the circle of the crowd, and in between them must be a hundred people sitting and standing, all with their attention locked on one person. From the back, Gilbert finds his view obstructed by some particularly tall Narnians. Just as he begins to plan a route through the mass of people, a soft paw nudges his ankle. 

“You’re just in time to hear her speak,” Rambleleaf says at his feet. “Can you lift me up so I don’t get stepped on? I want to see this too.” Gilbert kneels, allowing Ramble to hop onto his shoulder before embarking into the crowd, drawing closer and closer to the makeshift stage. 

And then he sees her and all the pieces of his mangled heart slant together, restoring it in one, breathless moment.

“The Storygirl, ” Gilbert heaves quietly. 

“That’s what we’ve taken to calling her here, too,” Ramble says. 

His Storygirl hasn’t changed a bit. There are still halos crowning her smile and kingdoms of possibilities in her eyes. But the young dreamer and commander of words Gilbert had seen in the fields all those years had grown so tall and beautiful that he had no words left for himself—only a fiery warmth and an insatiable desire to talk to her.  

“That’s Anne there?” Gilbert whispers to Ramble. 

“Unmistakable, right?” Ramble murmurs back.

“I’m going to get closer.”

“Oh, good! I can’t hear from all the way over here,” Rambleleaf agrees, nudging Gilbert with his nose. 

Gilbert collides with a few shoulders and elbows as he passes through, but only because he cannot tear his eyes away from her. He feels like the thirteen-year-old lad with weak knees and a pining heart all over again. When they’ve reached the makeshift stage, Ramble waves his tale to the Storygirl. The flash of white catches her attention and through the next words of her tale, she gives a dimpled smile and nod. 

Then her eyes fall on Gilbert and her tongue stumbles. He watches her gaze travel from his heart-struck eyes, to his Avonlea clothes, to her boot in his hand. Anne chuckled and extended her bootless foot. Gilbert blinked down at it, the “Doctor” part of his mind wondering if she wanted him to examine it. 

“The boot, Gilbert,” Ramble hisses in his ear. 

“Oh! ” 

Anne continues to keep the crowd enraptured in her tale even as Gilbert slides the boot over her lacy stockings and ties the laces. When he’s finished, she bends low to him and whispers, “Care to help me with my story?” 

“Me ?” Gilbert chokes. 

“Yes, Gilbert Blythe. You .” 

A shiver shoots like a flash of summer lightning down his back. How does she know my name? Gilbert’s mind wonders on repeat. He feels himself nod, only to be swept up onto the stage with her strong hands a second later. She offers Ramble a hand down, pressing a kiss to the top of his fur, then turns back to Gilbert. 

“Play along!” she murmurs quietly. 

Gilbert nods once more, turning nervous eyes to the crowd of onlookers. Beside him, Anne shoots back into her carefully woven tale. 

“It would’ve been easy for Cordelia to resign herself to the fate everyone wanted for her. But could she submit herself to everyday mundanities? Milking cows and pulling weeds? She could see the honor in these tasks, but somehow knew that her destiny laid elsewhere. She turned to a neighboring lad and asked him his thoughts.” 

Anne grabs Gilbert’s fingers and poses her body as if engaged in a conversation with him. Her tongue stills, and she urges Gilbert to take the next few lines. 

“Well, er…” Get it together, Blythe. He takes a deep breath. “The neighbor lad assured her that she bore enough heart and talent to succeed at any task she put her mind to. That it wasn’t a matter of finding her destiny, but...creating it? For herself.”

Anne smiles. Gilbert feels it thrum pleasantly behind his ribs. 

“Cordelia asked the neighbor lad if he would help her find the better feelings of her heart, the truth behind her soul and desires.” 

“He agreed,” Gilbert says resolutely. “Because the lad had already traveled across the world to find her. What was another journey?” 

7. A Pair at Tea

“You must tell me how you managed to find me!” Anne exclaims, pouring sweet tea into two small stone goblets. Her hair is loose over her shoulders, and Gilbert wonders if it’s the reason for the raspberry, rose smell of her.

Gilbert hasn’t quite shaken the timid nervousness. This is how he imagines he might feel if he were engaged in conversation with the King of England—only Anne is much more beautiful, even if she is just as intimidating. His eyes follow her hands as she hands him his tea, and he accepts the offering as something to occupy himself with.

He ignores her question. For now, at least.

“How...how do you know my name?” 

Anne smiles into her goblet.

“I’ve dusted your photograph hundreds of times helping Mary clean your home. You’re often all she can talk about when we’re polishing the silver or scrubbing windows.” 

“Really?” 

“Indeed. I know plenty about you, Dr. Blythe.” 

“Just Gilbert is fine,” he hums, cheeks warm. Then his eyes dim and he stares at his own reflection in his tea. “What sorts of things do you know?” 

Anne ponders this for a moment. Her fingers twist strands of hair into a gentle braid as she speaks, “I know that we just missed each other when we were children. That you left the island the same winter I arrived. I know that you’re the golden boy of Avonlea, and that all the mothers have been counting down the days until your return to marry their daughters to you. I know you won a prestigious scholarship that allowed you an excellent medical education. Congratulations by the way. I know—”

“ Alright !” Gilbert coughed. “I almost feel ashamed that I know barely anything about you. Only that you’re selflessly kind, a legendary master of storytelling, and that you’re unearthly beautiful.” 

Roses flourish her cheeks in lovely shades of red. Gilbert bites his lip to keep from smiling. 

“Anything you’d want to know, you only need ask. I’m an open book.”

“Then may I ask what it is you’re doing here?” Gilbert begins carefully. “The Cuthberts are worried sick. Bash and Mary, too. We all thought something terrible had happened to you.” 

“Terrible? Why? I’ve only been gone nearly a day. I’ve disappeared for longer periods of time into Charlottetown to visit friends.” 

Gilbert blinks.

“Anne, you’ve been missing for over a week. You came over to help clean the house a whole week ago.” 

Her face shoots up to him. 

“You must be mistaken. This isn’t my first time visiting Narnia. Time travels more quickly here than it does in Avonlea. That’s the way it’s always been.” 

“All I know is what I’ve been told.”

Anne rises from the table, a hand over her mouth. 

“A week? But...but how did you know where to find me?” 

It’s Gilbert’s turn to blush, but he answers honestly. 

“I think I accidentally stumbled upon Narnia as a boy, but always thought it was a dream or an imagination. When you went missing at my house, I just had this...feeling I couldn’t shake. I’m still having a hard time believing it, to be honest.” 

“For a man of science, I think you are doing admirably,” Anne says warmly. “I admit, I stumbled here in a similar way. I was going to wash your fathers old things because they’d grown so dusty, but I tripped into the wardrobe.” 

“That’s kind of you. To take care of my father’s things, I mean. Especially when you weren’t acquainted with him.” 

“Mary told me he meant a lot to you,” Anne answers easily. “Besides, you’re a man now. I thought you might like to wear some of his things to help keep his memory closer by. I know I wish I could. Wear my mother’s dresses, that is.” 

“Oh,” Gilbert frowns. “I apologize. I’d forgotten you’d lost your family too.” 

“An unhappy sort of thing to have in common with someone, I’ll admit,” Anne replies, a sad smile on her lips. “But you and I both have our makeshift families now. And this new little friendship of ours. That brings me to this question, though, Gilbert. How long do you plan on staying?” 

“How long do you plan to stay?” Gilbert replies, heart catching speed in his chest. 

“For the duration of the match,” Anne replies, as if it were obvious. 

“The...match?” 

“Ramble didn’t tell you? There’s a Storytelling Match that’s taking place right now. Whomever can spin the best tale will get to tell a story to Aslan, the King of Narnia.”

“Ramble did say something about Aslan bringing you here for entertainment.” 

“That’s only a guess,” Anne corrects warmly. “I’d like to win the match and meet Aslan, and then I plan to return home.”  

Gilbert isn’t sure what to say next. The right thing to do is return home and explain as best he can the truth behind Anne’s disappearance. At the very least, fabricate some lie that assures everyone of her safety and inevitable return home. 

But to his surprise, he finds he doesn’t want to leave. He wants to witness this storytelling match, support Anne and witness her victory. Maybe what Anne said about time in Narnia is right, after all. If they stay in Narnia for a while longer, perhaps it will be like no time has passed at all. 

“Will you stay, Gilbert?” Anne asks quietly. “I know you’ve just met me and that we’re barely acquaintances. I won’t fault you if you return back home to your patients and to our families. But…” 

“But?” Gilbert whispers hopefully. 

“But if you’d like to stay for a while and explore Narnia with me, I would welcome the company. In fact, I’d be glad for it.” 

“I’m so newly home that I don’t quite have patients yet,” Gilbert says offhandedly, mulling the idea over in his mind. “And there’s no guarantee that if I leave that I’ll ever be able to come back and see you. To make sure you’re alright.” 

“There’s not,” Anne agrees, eyes glimmering with warm light. 

He surprises himself with what he says next. 

“Then I’ll stay.” 

[victoriareyloficlists]

4 February 2021 Additions to Reylo Holidays

These fics have been added to the Holiday list located here.

Christmas

Fight, Flight, or F____ by Blueyedgurl (AO3 2020  Rated E Complete, 2 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey gets a dildo advent calendar for office secret santa. Ben is absolutely panicking, his chance with the cute girl is absolutely toast. Poe would be mad that Ben took the wrong wrapped gift from the counter this morning but he can always buy Finn a new one and this is hilarious.) The Sweater Curse in Reverse by Blueyedgurl (AO3 2020  Rated T Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey and Ben are roommates. He stresses a bit when Rey starts acting strange, she gives him intense looks while she's crocheting at night and gives him lingering hugs when she comes home to dinner made. Ben fears the worst but soon finds out his roommate is up to something.) Sugar On My Tongue by allstoriesintheend (AO3 2020  Rated T Complete, 6 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: AU where Rey is a florist in a small town and Ben owns a bakery in the same town. They always work together for special occasions, especially weddings. Everyone in town knows they’re in love but them.) Home for the Holidays by LarirenShadow (AO3 2016  Rated T Complete, 5 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Kylo Ren, in a moment of weakness, tells his mother he'll be home for Christmas and will bring his girlfriend. Problem is he doesn't have one. Enter Rey, his grad assistant. He makes a deal with her so she'll be his girlfriend for the trip home.) Brand New Bag by DhampirsDrinkEspresso (AO3 2020  Rated M Complete, 3 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey doesn't get along with her co-worker Ben...a co-worker who is almost Rey's ideal man and also happens to be the son of her matchmaking boss. When Rey needs help with a children's Christmas party, Ben is sent to save the day-whether he and Rey like it or not.) christmas in the city. by pyroallerdyce (AO3 2020  Rated G Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Ben meets Rey in a grocery store, offers to give her a ride home, and they discover they live on the same floor in the same building. They find out they have other things in common too, and maybe there is a future between the two of them.) A Reylo Christmas by Biekewieke (AO3 2018  Rated E Complete, 8 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: So when Leia Organa asks her Personal Assistant Rey to join her on a family vacation in Mon Torri for the holidays and highlights a big bonus, what is she to do? Only catch... Leia's son is coming along... Ben Solo is the enfant terrible of the family. Broody, sullen and with a huge chip on his shoulder, the young man is notoriously difficult.) Let's Meet Under the Mistletoe by GreyForceUser (ReyandKyloforever) (AO3 2018  Rated E Complete, 7 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey Johnson and Ben Solo do not get along. Their first meeting was less than impressive. A change in circumstances forces Rey and Ben to work together to stage a huge black-tie Christmas party in a ridiculously short period of time. Only time will tell if they can stand each other long enough to pull it off or if the whole thing will crash and burn.) Silent Night by avidvampirehunter (AO3 2019  Rated M Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Ben Solo, one of the higher-ups at First Order Insurance, has spent roughly one year dreading the inevitable—falling for Rey Kenobi, one of his most mysterious and alluring employees. Little does he know that Rey herself has been fighting the same temptations, nor that she may be losing the will to even try. When he ends up drawing her name for the annual Secret Santa gift exchange, the merciless hand of fate pushes them together through the storm raging outside—and in their hearts.) Merry (Fuzzy) and Bright by JaneNightwork (AO3 2019  Rated M Complete, 25 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: One night Ben finds a dog abandoned on his doorstep. She's cold, scared, and pregnant. Ben takes her to a nearby vet clinic and meets the beautiful veterinarian Rey, who promises to help him be the best caregiver the dog and her puppies could ask for. Throughout the holiday season Ben and Rey fall in love with the puppies and, of course, each other.) daylight by sparklylulz (sparklyulz) (AO3 2020  Rated T Complete, 4 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Coffee shop employee Rey has a run in with one of the difficult professors. Thus starts a very turbulent friendship until Ben needs a fake date to go with him to see his parents, the first time he's seen his parents in a while.) The Trail Bride by SecretReyloTrash (BadOldWest) (AO3 2019  Rated E Complete, 47 Chapters, Historical AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey Niima finds herself in a perilous situation when her husband dies at the start of their journey West. From the few bachelors on the trail in her party; she attaches herself to the best of her options. That option is the mysterious Banker Ben Solo.) Something About November Chapter 18 by SpaceWaffleHouseTM (AO3 2019  Rated G Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: When Ben's adopted daughter finds a box of love letters he wrote and never sent, she decides she wants him happy for Christmas. With help from her Aunt Gwen, she sends her the letters.) The Fake Boyfriend Problem by INTPSlytherin_reylove97 (AO3 2018  Rated T Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: When Rose accidently tells her parents her roommate Rey was bringing her boyfriend for Christmas, instead of telling them she was bringing her own boyfriend Finn, the girls run into an interesting problem.) How to Keep Christmas by JaneNightwork (AO3 2018  Rated M Complete, 26 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey and Ben have had feelings for each other since she began teaching at Chandrila Elementary School earlier that year, but neither knows their affection is mutual. Rey plans to use the the Christmas season––her favorite time of year––as an excuse to spend more time with Ben, and to find a way to tell him how she feels. But can she convince the Grinch-ish Ben to enjoy Christmas with her? Equally important: will her friends Finn, Poe, and Rose be able to stop themselves from matchmaking and meddling and general mischief?) Twas the night before Sithmas... by Hellyjellybean (AO3 2019  Rated T Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Ben Solo is alone...and he likes it that way. What more does he need on Christmas eve? He has his whiskey and his bitterness to keep him warm. But Christmas magic can do wonderful things, and a visit from a mystical being throws Ben into a world very different from the one he knew. A world were he is married to the love of his life, he is close to his family and a little boy with dark eyes calls him Daddy. But is it all a dream? Or will Ben really get everything he has ever wanted this Christmas?) Blame it on the Mistletoe by deedreamer, HopelesslyReylo (AO3 2018  Rated E Complete, 5 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey Wilson doesn’t necessarily hate Christmas, it’s just that she’s never really enjoyed it. It’s too over the top, too full of the same repetitive music and consumerism. That’s not to say she doesn’t enjoy some things about the holiday... So when her new boss —and secret crush— Ben Solo catches her singing in her office, she lies to avoid looking like a grinch. Now she’s agreed to spend the holiday with him and his over-the-top Christmas fanatic family.) Crash my Bandicoot by KyloTrashForever (AO3 2019  Rated E Complete, 4 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Ben has lived next door to Rey for ten years now, and he’s been in love with her for most of them. A Christmas break with no one but themselves for company leaves a lot of time for Crash Bandicoot sessions... among other things.) Valentine’s Day

Love's Mystery by Hartmannclan (AO3 2020  Rated G Complete, 14 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Ben Solo only needs one lady in his life; his daughter, Hope. So he is surprised to find himself intrigued by the masked woman who just spilled a drink down the front of his costume. Maybe this year the company Valentine's day dance won't be so boring after all? And what happens when he has to leave suddenly.....) No Chance, No Way by AttackoftheDarkCurses (AO3 2020  Rated E Complete, 7 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Just as Rey's decided to give up on love, she gets partnered to co-write Valentine's themed articles with the office grump, who... maybe isn't such a grump.) Valentine's Day by PropertyOfThaJoker (AO3 2018  Rated M Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: The cat immediately came to Rey, who immediately held it. “He can’t be more than five weeks old, Ben. He’s a baby. It’s cold out here – he’ll freeze to death. We have to take him home.”) How Much Can Kylo Ren Endure This Christmas by reylology (AO3 2017  Rated M Complete, 10 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: As the CEO of the number one commercial enterprise in New York City, Kylo Ren would think that bringing home a girl for his parents to meet should be the least of his concerns. But when a phone call with his mother takes an absurd, aggravating turn, he finds himself shoved headfirst into a lie. Desperate to prove his parents wrong, Kylo would do anything in order to see the shocked looks on their faces. Even if it means seeking help from the random girl that had just walked into his office for a job interview.) The Best Medicine by Cecilia1204 (AO3 2019  Rated M Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Being stuck in hospital for Christmas was enough to make Ben Solo feel really down in the dumps. That is, until he meets two angels in the form of Rey and her amazing cat.) Halloween

Closet Encounters Of The Thirsty Kind by ReyloBrit (AO3 2019  Rated E Complete, 2 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey dislikes Ben. Ben dislikes Rey. Funny, then, that people keep thinking they've come to this party together, and unfortunate that when cops raid the party, there's only one place to hide. And it's such a cramped and confined place too.) Anything to Win by Erulisse17 (AO3 2018  Rated T Complete, 2 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey hates losing. She hates losing almost more than she loves winning. Which is why she's in the ridiculous position of asking Kylo Ren, the very person who keeps beating her at the singles costume contest, to team up with her to dominate the couples contest and trounce Phasma and Hux once and for all. Working with Kylo is a necessary evil, but really, she'd do anything to win. Anything! Unless... it's falling in love.) Thanksgiving

Trouble for Thanksgiving by Biekewieke (AO3 2019  Rated E Complete, 40 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey Kenobi's temporary work visa is about to expire. She needs her boss' signature on her renewal application to get the extension she desperately wants and needs. Only her boss, the infamous Ben Solo, is an asshole. He's notoriously difficult and she knows this firsthand. Nevertheless, she needs his signature on those papers if she wants to avoid being deported by the end of the year... So when Rey tells her about her looming deportation, he finds a way to bend the situation to suit his own needs. Except, for the first time in his adult life, things don't go exactly as planned when he takes her home for the holidays...) I Wanna Hold Your Hand by SageMcMae (AO3 2019  Rated M Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: To escape Thanksgiving dinner with his mother, author Ben Solo travels to Verona, and hides away in his publisher’s villa. While wandering the city, he discovers Casa di Giulietta and the statue contained within. Some believe touching her will bring you luck in love. Others believe that when her soulmate touches her, she will come to life. Ben doesn’t believe in any of it. Until an accidental brush of his hand results in an empty statue podium and him catching a very confused, very irritated woman in his arms.)

[powerdragonmoon]

❄️Keep Me Warm❄️

Another akuma attack, another afternoon spent drawing for Nathanael, this time with a special guest.

I’m @edendaphne ‘s secret santy claws! 🎅oh ho ho ho!!! Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays you wonderful bean!! and to everyone good night! Thank you @kuu-sama11 for the endless and amazing lukanath inspiration! ❤️❤️ 

(ao3 link)

Nathanael hummed quietly under his breath, reaching to push his hair back before returning his pen to his sketchbook. The soft strum of a guitar in the background made the soundtrack for his art, melding in with the sounds of the city outside as Paris was enveloped with snow. The power had gone out hours ago. Another snow-themed akuma of some sort had wreaked havoc on the city, encasing the university in an avalanche, leaving Nathanael stuck in the library. He found himself lost in between the bookcases, sitting on the floor, passing the time searching for inspiration… 

The guitar paused. 

“The acoustics in here are amazing,” came a calm voice, from across the aisle, followed closely by another strum of the guitar. “I think the snow is making the perfect sound absorber.” 

Nathanael glanced up at his only companion, the only person to have round up stuck with him during the akuma attack. His long legs stretched out into the aisle with his guitar on his lap.  

The snow covered windows allowed only limited light into the building, flooding the library in a cool and soothing atmosphere. The tall guitarist sat across from Nathanael, strumming notes on his guitar as the room grew colder with each passing hour. His bright blue eyes were intensified in the darkness of the library, sparkling like snowflakes and ice, however in their coolness, Nathanael could only feel the heat rushing to his cheeks. 

He had never been so conflicted over wanting an akuma attack to be over. 

Finally, Nathanael cleared his throat, still unable to find any words for a reply. Instead he nodded, smiling shyly in agreement as he pushed his hair back behind his ear, not able to meet Luka’s piercing gaze. He tried his best to focus on his drawing even as he heard Luka’s guitar pause once more. 

Over the years the two had grown closer, Nathanael was close friends with Juleka and Rose afterall. He even had assisted creating posters for one of Kitty Section’s final performances before the band broke up and then later assisting Luka and his new band with cover art for their album. And now they were attending the same art school. Even if they shared no classes, they still found time to spend together. They became fast friends, bonding over music and art and finding themselves in an easy symbiotic relationship, Luka’s music inspiring Nathanael’s art, and Nathanael’s art inspiring Luka’s music. It was good. 

And it wasn’t something Nathanael wanted to ruin. 

To admit to Luka how he truly felt for him would surely ruin their friendship, and so Nathanael tried his best to put his feelings aside. He tried to keep his eyes glued to his sketchbook and not on Luka’s shaggy blue hair. He tried to focus on his comics and not on Luka’s small, soft smiles. He tried… 

And yet he couldn’t help the skip of his heart as Luka settled down beside him, leaning against the same bookcase and propping his guitar back onto his lap. He leaned back, eyes closed and took in deep breaths. It had gotten so cold in the room that Nathanael could see each exhale in clouds of vapour from his mouth. 

…Nathanael tried not to focus on his mouth for too long. 

He was so tall that Nathanael could easily rest his head against Luka’s shoulder.

He tried not to focus on that either…

Luka’s eyes opened, meeting Nathanael’s for a moment before Nathanael ripped his eyes away, focusing back on his sketch and hoping Luka had not noticed him staring. Luckily, his long red hair fell from behind his ear, forming a barrier from Luka’s pale blue eyes and hiding Nathanael’s blush—

At least until cool fingers traced his cheeks, pulling his hair back behind his ear. Nathanael froze, turning to see Luka leaning down close, his fingers still tangled in Nathanael’s hair, black nail polish against red hair.  

“Your hair has gotten so long,” Luka remarked, and Nathanael felt himself shiver, unsure of whether it was the cold or the deep timbre of Luka’s voice. The white vapour from their breaths took up the space between them, and as if by instinct the two of them moved closer to one another, seeking warmth and heat. Nathanael hadn’t even noticed that Luka had put his guitar down. 

“Y-yeah,” Nathanael stuttered. “I really need to get it cut.” 

Luka’s hand ran down the length of Nathanael’s hair, his eyes tracking the movement and reaching down past his shoulders. He smiled, wide and bright, staring back at Nathanael, his eyes sparkled, “I like it. I think it looks great.” 

Nathanael quickly decided he would never have his hair cut again if it could get Luka to smile like that. 

“I, um… t-thanks,” he finally replied, blinking up at Luka. “I should probably wear it up more often… it gets so tangled and messy.” 

“Nothing wrong with tangled and messy,” Luka hummed with a wink and Nathanael sputtered. He was going to have to go open a window at this rate and fling himself out into the snow to dampen the heat rising to his face. 

“It’s kinda badass,” Luka continued and Nathanael balked that the association to such a word, shaking his head with a laugh. 

“Is it badass to have my hair always in my eyes when I’m trying to draw?” Nathanael remarked. 

Luka shrugged, “There are some amazing musicians that can perform with long hair. Makes the headbanging all the more awesome.” 

“I’ve never headbanged in my life,” Nathanael laughed. 

“Well then we should go to a concert,” said Luka, nudging Nathanael’s shoulder with his own. “I’ll take you to a real rager.” He smiled, raising his hands up with his pointer and pinky finger raised, sticking his tongue out for good measure. 

The two broke down into a fit of giggles, causing Nathanael’s hair to once again fall in front of his face. 

“Really though, do you want me to do your hair?” Luka asked once Nathanael had combed his hair back into place with his hands. 

“What?” Nathanael wasn’t sure if he heard him right. 

Luka shrugged, “I used to do Juleka’s hair all the time growing up, plus you remember my man-bun phase.” He smiled, grabbing an elastic from his wrist and untangling it from his many bracelets. “I think I can help you tame this mane.” 

Despite the rising heat to his cheeks, Nathanael managed a scowl in Luka’s direction. 

And yet, just a few moments later, Nathanael found himself sitting between Luka’s legs, blush beyond controllable as Luka’s long calloused fingers combed through his hair, gentle and well-practiced as he untangled knots and lightly massaged his scalp. Nathanael was in heaven, put even more at ease as Luka hummed a sweet tune under his breath. 

The cold was no longer a problem for Nathanael as he felt the warmth radiating from his proximity to Luka. And as far as he was concerned, Ladybug and Chat Noir could take their time. He was in no rush to leave and Luka seemed to be happy to keep him warm.