#new years fic

[merlucide]

Prayers in Silk

pairings 𓇼 Highschool!Satoru x Fem!Reader (enemies to lovers type)

synopsis 𓇼 it was new years in 2006, and as the year changes, so do the hearts of two people. At the shrine on the cold new years morning, you and Satoru make your wishes, unaware that the prayer he holds is far more significant than you realize.

warnings 𓇼 light cursing, cheesy bit at the end

word-count 𓇼 2.6k

“Ehhh?! You’re seriously wearing a kimono?! In this weather!?” Gojo bafflingly exclaimed, pointing at your satin yellow kimono. “Uhh? You aren’t dressed up?!” You glare at his comment, crossing your arms. He was wearing his grey sweatpants and a his navy blue jacket, quite boring compared to your glamorous look. It was New Year’s Day and you were going to Hatsumode, which is the first shrine visit of the new year. You wanted to look nice in the presence of the Kami’s, is there something so wrong with that?

To Gojo Satoru, apparently it was. “Too much effort, and like, it’s freezing,” He retorted stuffing his hands back into his jacket. It wasn’t actively snowing, but ice ice glazed the sidewalks, and frost dusted the bamboo, creating a picturesque—albeit chilly—path to the shrine. You had originally made plans with Shoko to go to the shrines, that somehow turned into an invitation for Gojo and Geto as well. And you had no problem with that, except Gojo. He was insufferable—loud, smug, and annoyingly good at getting under your skin, and unfortunately he liked getting under yours the best.

You let out a dry sigh and rub your hands together, “Where’s Geto?” You ask, looking around for the black-haired boy. those two are like one in the same, it’s odd to catch one without the other. “They needed him for an emergency mission or something,” He answered nonchalantly. You hummed in acknowledgement, a few minutes later a ‘ding!’ went off and you pulled out your phone. A notification from ‘Shoko-tan<3’. you opened the message.

‘Hey sorry can’t meet- they dragged me in on an emergency mission. Sorry again (*´Д｀*)’

You sighed deeply through your nose and closed the lid, sliding it back into your kimono’s obi securely. Gojo’s brow raised at you slightly, an amused glint in his eyes as if he was about to comment on how “traditional” you looked, but he bit back the remark with a smirk.

You clapped your hands against your red cheeks and turned towards the frozen stone steps. “Shoko can’t come, I’m going now,” you firmly state, not sparing a glance at the snow-haired boy as you make your ways into the bamboo enclosed path. Gojo blinks a few times and trails behind eyeing you. The path to the shrine was filled of red and black torii above your heads. “Sooo, whatcha gonna ask for eh?” He drawls, blowing air into his hands. You sigh, “I don’t know yet.” “You should pray for a boyfriend, you probably won’t get one otherwise,” He smirks, head tilted towards the sky, avoiding your gaze.

You abruptly turn “Excuse me?!” You scoff, “Well for your information I was asked out multiple times in the past few months!” You glare at him, which he just sticks his tongue out tauntingly. Your dating life has always been amusing to Gojo for some reason. Always poking fun at you for not having a boyfriend yet or how you’ll end up alone or whatever nonsense he can come up with to elicit a reaction from you.

You sharply exhale and continue down the path, it was a bit busy as expected, but not nearly as busy as you thought it would be. You also went much earlier to avoid the crowd. “Well then, what are you going to ask for, hm?” You spare a quick glance to him. “Meh, I don’t care, maybe a free ticket to America. Never been,” you stare at him baffled, ‘seriously?’ you think. “..You’re going to ask… for a plane ticket?” You echo. “Yeah, never been sounds cool, besides the chicks there are super hot,” he exclaimed on the last bit. “A plane ticket? Are you serious?” You exasperatedly ask. “What? It’s a wish, isn’t it?” He grinned. “Don’t worry. I’ll send you a postcard.”

“You know this is the time to ask about like— health and happiness right?”

“Duuuh, I did grow up ‘tradish’ y’know,” he replies mockingly, adjusting his glasses up. You just shrug and turn your gaze to the shrines entrance. You step underneath the temizuya, the water basin had ice on the sides of the walls, the temple keepers had already cleared the ice out, no doubt it was freezing. You took your right hand and took the ladle, scooping it and pouring the water into your left hand. ‘Oh it was freezing!’ You shudder, “You’d think they’d have like, a heater or something, ugh,” you groan, switching the ladle to your left hand and pouring it on your right. This was the purification process, it’s how you show respect and properly participate in the ritual. And as much as you want to make the Kami’s proud and honor them, this sucked ass.

You poured a little bit of water into your left, holding it up to your lips and rinse your mouth. Now’s not the time to think of germs. You swish it around a few times, then spit it to the side of the basin. Gojo chuckles behind you about who knows what, “Oh hush, it’ll be your turn soon,” you tilt the ladle upright, watching the water trickle back down into basin. Then you hand it to Gojo, who takes it and steals your place. He repeats the process with a little more complaints than you, ‘THIS IS FUCKING COLD.’ You just snicker watching him, then you continue into the shrine.

“Seriously, that sucked,” Gojo moans, stuffing his wet cold hands back into his jacket. “Shush already, be caaaaalm,” you mock, both of you walking on the side of the path, nodding at those leaving. You make it to the main shrine, it was brown and red, like most temples. this one wasn’t very big, since you didn’t go to the cities shrine, figuring that would be much more busier. It was small and modest. The concrete torii stood in front of the shrine, moss growing on the top, little komainu stood next to it, and there was little circle candles on both sides of the shrine. 

You stood in front of the offering box and dropped in your five yen. Gojo repeated the action, flipping it off his thumb. You both faced the shrine, and bow deeply twice. Then clapped your hands twice, in sync, then you both tilted your head down in prayer.

You had thought deeply a few days prior of what you would ask for. Your life wasn’t perfect, but you were happy—that wasn’t what you wanted to ask for. You weren’t poor, nor were you rich, but that was fine too. What you wanted wasn’t something material. Maybe it was love, maybe it was clarity, or maybe it was just the strength to navigate the path ahead. Man, this was hard. As a jujutsu sorcerer, tomorrow is never promised. You accepted that, you knew one day you would probably die against a curse. That hit harder after your kouhai died. You don’t want anyone around you to have the same fate. You bowed your head slightly and pressed your hands tighter together. “Please let those I care about have a long and happy life… and maybe let me figure out my own along the way.”

You open you eyes and stand up, Gojo was already standing, waiting for you. You bow deeply once more and turn to face him. “So what did you end up asking for?” He asks, piercing blue eyes peeking behind his slipping glasses. You shrugged softly, “For those around me to live their lives to the fullest,” you reply, dusting off your kimono. Gojo snickers, “Gosh you really are so selfless,” He praises mockingly. You click your tongue, “Well then, what did you end up asking for, hm?” “Tickets,” “Are you serious?!” You exclaim. You seriously thought he was joking, how stupid is he. You shake your head. ‘unbelievable’. 

He just gives his cheeky boyish grin he always gives you, oh how you hated that smile. You both left the main shrine, making your way to the shop booth to buy omamori. You figured you’d get one for Shoko since she couldn’t make it. You looked at the colorful options, picking up a blue omamori with written kanji, ‘protection’. You looked for one for yourself, you already asked for protection and guidance, so what charm should you get?

“Hey, what are you getting?” You ask, turning to the lanky boy. “Gotta guarantee that I stay number one,” Gojo smirks, dangling a yellow omamori, kanji reading as ‘success’. “Meh, I’ll get Suguru a ‘protection from bad luck’, sounds good enough.” 

Your fingers ghosted over the pink one, lifting it up and brushing your finger pads over the lettering.

You paid for both of you, because Gojo apparently ‘forgot his wallet’, ironic since he’s fucking loaded. You put yours and Shoko’s omamori into your obi, the tassels sticking out ever so slightly. You both begin the journey out of the shrine grounds. The sun had begun to melt the frost, it hadn’t warmed up much but it still felt warmer. That was when you came face to face with the crowd, oh it’s a wonderful thing you went earlier. It was kind of ridiculous just how many people went to the shrine for Hatsumode. Gojo bends down to the shell of your ear, lowly speaking, “Good thing we got here when we did.” Groups of family and friends pooled in, squeezing against each other. You and Gojo were pushed to the very edge of the path due to the crowd, a girl passed you in a lavender and pink kimono. “See, I’m not the only person dressed up,” you boast, smirking at the boy who was wordlessly mocking your comment. 

You and Gojo squeezed your way through the narrowing path, the weight of the crowd pressing in from all sides. People were pushing and shoving, their chatter creating a constant buzz in the air, but it felt oddly isolating. You were still too aware of Gojo standing just a few inches behind you, his presence impossible to ignore. You could feel the heat of his body just behind you, his breath warm against the back of your neck. It was an oddly intimate feeling, and you refused to acknowledge it. 

But just as you turned to throw a glance back at him, to make sure he was still with you, someone bumped into your shoulder, pushing you backward into Gojo. You stumbled slightly, surprised by the force of the collision, but before you could step away, you realized something was different.

Gojo hadn’t moved.

In fact, his hands—his hands were now firmly holding your arms, steadying you.

Your breath caught in your throat, and for a split second, everything felt oddly still. Gojo’s hands held onto your forearms, and the usual barrier,—the feeling that he was untouchable, inaccessible—had melted away. His Infinity, his usual shield, was absent in that moment.

You didn’t know if he meant to lower it, or if it was a slip-up, but his fingers lingered a little longer than necessary before he quickly pulled back, his usual smirk sliding back into place as though nothing had happened. “You fallin’ for me too?” he said nonchalantly, his tone teasing, but there was something else in his eyes—something fleeting, almost imperceptible.

You cleared your throat, trying to hide the rush of warmth in your cheeks. “Watch where you’re going, dummy,” “YOU BUMPED INTO ME?!” You rolled your eyes and continued pushing through the mess of people. 

The moment passed, but it left an unspoken question hanging in the air between you two. ‘he’s so annoying’ you thought, that’s definitely what you thought.

The crowd was finally thinning out, and with a sigh of relief, you stepped through the last few groups of people, Gojo following at your side. The shrine’s path grounds were gradually clearing, and the chill in the air didn’t feel quite so biting anymore. You adjusted the fabric of your kimono, a subtle movement that caught Gojo’s eye as you did. A small piece of pink caught his attention from the edge of your obi—the tassel of your omamori peeking out.

Gojo didn’t say anything, but his gaze lingered for a moment longer than usual. That pink hue—he knew exactly what it meant. Love. The omamori meant for romance, for heart’s desires. It was so clearly sentimental that it almost made him roll his eyes. He quickly shifted his gaze away, though, as if he hadn’t seen it at all. You were probably the type to hope for something soft, something you could hold onto. He wasn’t the type to believe in things like that.

It wasn’t hard to imagine why you’d chosen it, though the thought of you wishing for something like that… It stirred something strange in him. You’d picked something soft, hopeful. Did you even realize what that said about you? You acted so tough, sharp edges and biting remarks, but this? This was something else entirely.

As you turned ahead, tucking the tassel back into the folds of your kimono, Gojo’s smirk returned, casual, but with an undercurrent of something else. His gaze softened for just a split second before he looked away again. His hands found their way into his jacket pockets, the silence stretching between you both.

“Guess we’re headed in different directions now,” Gojo said, his voice low, almost as if the words didn’t fully match the thoughts behind them. “Good luck with that wish of yours. Cya at school.”

You didn’t quite catch the weight behind his words, brushing them off as just another one of his teasing remarks. You nodded, walking ahead without a second glance. 

As your figure retreated, Gojo lingered behind for a moment longer, standing at the edge of the steps, watching you as you walked away. His hand brushed against the omamori in his pocket, the action so subtle it could’ve been missed by anyone else. But to Gojo, it was something more. It was a reminder of the prayer he made, the charm he chose.

Success, yes. But there was more to it than that. The charm was supposed to symbolize the strength to keep going, to push forward. But what Gojo had truly wished for, what he had really prayed for, was simpler than that. 

—He’d lied, of course—he hadn’t wished for plane tickets. That was just a convenient story to cover up the truth. He’d stood at the shrine, hands clasped loosely, head bowed just enough to make it look like he cared about decorum. But his mind had only been on one thing. On you.

He had wished for you. Not in the way your omamori was about love, no, not that. But he had prayed for the strength to keep you safe, to give you the life you deserved—the life where you didn’t have to fear the world or what it might take from you.

He had prayed for the kind of strength that would allow him to be by your side, to protect you, to ensure that no curse would ever hurt you. Maybe you didn’t realize it, but Gojo saw the way your smile lit up even in the darkest moments, the way you kept going despite everything. And he couldn’t stand the idea of you ever losing that light.

So, he held his omamori tight, fingers curling around the small charm, as a quiet breath slipped past his lips. He didn’t need to tell you what he’d really wished for. You wouldn’t understand. But in that moment, Gojo made a promise to himself: he would do whatever it took to make sure your life, your happiness, was something that could never be taken from you.

You may have prayed for the happiness of others, but Gojo? He prayed for yours—and for the chance to be the one who made it possible.

I have 4 things to say:

This rlly tested my Japanese culture knowledge 😭🙏

I got excited writing this bc there’s a chance I can go back to Japan in a year or two!!

this was mostly proofread but shit probably doesn’t make all sense 😭

oh my gosh editing the colors took forever HELPP

feedback + Reblogs appreciated pls! :)

made November 27th 2024 (I’m excited for Christmas season okay??)

[underthetree845]

His Lady

Chuuya/fem pm! Reader Cws: pm fem! reader, mutual pining, getting together, alcohol tw, jealous chuuya, fluff, pent up emotions, light angst (little argument), reader is high up in the port mafia, reader flirts to get information (briefly), new years party, let me know if I missed anything! About 3.5k words Summary: What was being built up finally spills over at the new years eve party all the higher ups in the port mafia have to attend. A/n: So happy late new years I guess! I don't know I wanted to try a little something. Chuuya is so hard to figure out how to write- I did my best though! Black hearts divider credit // Red hearts divider credit.

You strode up to the grand staircase clad in your pretty crimson dress, the one gifted to you exactly one week prior. He told you that the shade would match his suit lining and tie. You didn’t question why he thought the two of you should match, but it proved impossible to stop thinking about leading up to the event. The boss’s sudden calling for an end of the year bash at the most luxurious banquet hall in town was suspicious to say the least, but with how often every executive and subordinate in the port mafia felt overworked, no one could find it in themselves to care. 

As a high-ranking member yourself, Mori had you preview the profiles of some of the guests that would be attending. You were sure your superiors were swamped with even more. The presence of an executive alone provided a statement. Who they chose to mingle with, who they pointedly ignored. 

Just as you were about to head inside, a familiar voice sounded from behind you. The word fell from his lips before he could stop it. “Damn,” he murmured. You spun around on instinct, and were met with the stormy blue pair of eyes you had grown so fond of; somehow all the more dazzling under the light of the moon.

“Chuuya,” you breathed, taking the time to soak in his appearance. Just as promised, his tie, suit lining, and even the handkerchief peeking out of his pocket were a deep scarlet. The way his gray vest hugged his body complemented his frame in a way that made your stomach do backflips. For once, Chuuya decided to step out into the world without the familiar pork pie that usually sat atop his head. It was a true blessing whenever you got to admire the way his hair fell to frame his face so artfully; what you wouldn’t give to run your fingers through it. 

Your breath hitched when you noticed the way his eyes raked over your form, and you had to clear your throat once for the man to blink back to reality. You could have sworn that the faintest tint of red adorned his cheeks. “...Could you be any more gorgeous?” Chuuya let out a low chuckle and suddenly you felt your face go hot. “I- uh-” you stammered for a moment before clearing your throat a second time, “Come on, let’s head inside, people are expecting us.” you turned and approached the entryway. Chuuya followed closely behind you, sharing a nod with the servant who held the door open. The hall was littered with specs of gold; spotlights, balloons, and crystalline chandeliers distorting light and scattering it around the room. Round, black-clothed tables formed the perimeter, each with a warm oil lamp sitting comfortably at its center. Expensive-looking tapestries hung between tall marble pillars against every wall, only further complementing the gold-traced designs etched into the molding. Servers wearing black bow ties and suits fluttered from table to table like honey bees in a garden, eager to serve their purpose with a near endless list of tasks. Your heels tapped lightly against the polished floor as you made your way inside, trying not to gape at the extravagant orchestra that played in the far corner. 

A long balcony wrapped around the perimeter of the room above your head with doors along the outer wall. It hung over a portion of the tables, shrouding them in shadow and contrasting greatly with the way the center of the hall was illuminated to create a slightly elevated dance floor. Clear glass made up almost the entirety of the walls above the balcony, creating a translucent dome that surely made for a very pretty picture on such a night. You and Chuuya found your way to a vacant table and it wasn’t long before you were approached by a waiter who requested that you provide your drink and food orders for the evening. “This place is breathtaking,” you commented, eyes still scanning over the venue. “I wanna know how much of our goddamn budget the boss spent on this,” Chuuya clicked his tongue and crossed his arms. He leaned back in his seat and you gave him a sympathetic smile. He sighed as he felt his resolve crumble away. It didn’t take long for your drinks to arrive. “S’ there anything you were looking forward to tonight?” Chuuya asked lightly, swirling around the wine in his newly-acquired glass before taking a sip. You paused for a moment. “...You mean, other than the huge New Years Eve bash being thrown by the mafia in, like, literally the most high class place I’ve ever stepped foot in?” “I mean, what were you hoping to get out of the evening?” Chuuya mused, “How’re you hoping to end this year?” Well. 

“Oh… I’m not really sure. Honestly it’s pretty nice already to get to enjoy this place,” you smiled bashfully, bringing the rim of the wine glass to come into contact with your lips. Slowly, your head tilted back, allowing the chilled liquid to slide down your throat. The Dolcetto was rich and sweet, refreshing and left an herbal tang on your tongue. Appreciating the complexities of wine had gotten easier since meeting Chuuya. “I know of a few more places like this, if you’re interested,” Chuuya offered nonchalantly, “I could always use some company.” Your head snapped in his direction. “...Seriously? You would?” he couldn’t help but admire the small glimmer in your eyes. “Yeah, if it’d make you smile like that, I’d do it every week,” he replied with a grin. You leaned back in your seat with a new thrum of excitement in your chest. “What about you, Chu?” you inquired curiously, “Were you hoping for anything special tonight?” Now it was Chuuya’s turn to pause. The longer he looked at you, the harder it was to deny the growing ache in his chest. Being around you was one the thing he had always been waiting for yet he never knew he needed. He wanted to be able to come home to you after a long day. To show you how much you meant to him. To open his eyes and have you be the first thing coming into his focus on a Saturday morning, knowing that neither of you have to get out of bed. He would take you anywhere your heart desired, hand you the world on a silver platter if he could. “To be honest Y/n,” he started, “the best part of tonight is-” “Ah, to meet you at last, Mr. Nakahara!” a lively voice sounded from your left. It belonged to a stout man, maybe a few centimeters taller than Chuuya, who gripped onto the lapel of his suit with both thumbs and stood with one leg out. The executive looked over to study him for a moment. “Oh,” you saw Chuuya’s eyes flicker with recognition, “Mr. Penrod, I’ve heard a lot about you.” He put on one of his business smiles and stood from the table as you watched with intrigue. Atop Penrod’s head sat a suspiciously lopsided fluff of black hair, mostly brushed back in an effort to emulate elegance. Penrod’s eyes flickered from yours back to Chuuya’s and his expression changed. “Ah, forgive me madam,” he turned to you with a slight bow, “Would you allow me the pleasure of knowing your name?” “Ah, it’s L/n Y/n, and the pleasure is all mine,” you stood with a polite curve of your lips and shared a handshake with the man, which he prolonged for a moment longer than what would have been entirely comfortable. “Mr. Mori just sent me your way, Mr. Nakahara sir,” Penrod brought his hands together with an amiable grin, “I believe there are certain matters of due time for us to discuss.” It was clear who he intended to share the discussion with and who he did not. Not that it really bothered you; he wasn’t on the profile list Mori gave you anyway. “Would you mind if I stole you away from your lady for a brief time?” “‘Course not,” Chuuya replied, turning to you for a moment, “You don’t mind, do you, Y/n?” “I- no, not at all,” your voice wavered slightly. Chuuya nodded. Your eyes trailed the pair until they disappeared into the crowd, and you slumped back in your seat. The flutter in your chest was impossible to suppress. There was a single thought running through your mind: Why didn’t Chuuya correct him? 

-

One hour left. Lipstick stained the rim of your wine glass, and your second and your third. A plate of appetizers sat mockingly on the table, long since left to go cold. Taking one more glance at the empty seat to your right, you decided that waiting any longer would prove to be a waste of your time. You caught several stares as you made your way through the sea of people, eyes filtering the crowd for any face you could recognize. At last, you spotted a man standing at the bar with sharp blue eyes and blonde hair straight as a pin. It has been slicked back, and he appeared to have a habit of running his right hand through it every so often. You let out a sigh, put on your best sugary grin, and strode over to tap the shoulder of the man’s navy suit. He turned his head, and you didn’t miss the way his eyes studied the contours of your body and face before a suave smile settled on his lips. The feeling that formed in the pit of your stomach was so different from the one you got when Chuuya looked at you that way. The man’s name, as you pretended not to know as he introduced himself, was Yamamoto Taishi. He was twenty six years old, a recent graduate of the finest college of finance and business relations in the country, the youngest son of the chairman of banking relations in Japan, and, as you quickly discovered, stupidly easy to win over. All it took was a few feathery touches up his arm, batting your eyelashes, taking one step closer, and you had him on the barstool next to you, babbling away in intricate detail about all the deals he was to handle alongside his father with flushed cheeks and breath that reeked of whisky. Little did you know, a certain redhead across the room was having trouble not shattering his own whiskey glass to pieces at the sight. The way Yamamoto looked at you made his stomach turn unpleasantly. Calm down dammit, Chuuya told himself, It means nothing. You know that. “Isn’t that something, Mr. Nakahara?” a gentleman’s voice sounded from his left, and Chuuya snapped back to the conversation he no longer cared to be engaged in. “Without a doubt,” he voiced smoothly, “Actually, I wouldn’t mind hearing more. Do you think you could elaborate on the last part of what you said?” “Of course, back to-” Miyazaki started again. Or Minamoto, or Mitsuba, or whoever the hell the guy introduced himself as. 

Chuuya found himself unable to care as his gaze trailed back over to your form. He grit his teeth at the way the blonde man next to you seemed to be leaning closer and closer with every passing second. The moment the man decided to rest his hand on your thigh, what remained of Chuuya’s patience dissipated in a matter of seconds. Murmuring something about excusing himself to the restroom, Chuuya abandoned his glass on a nearby table and tried to calm the stinging feeling under his skin as he swiftly approached the scene. Thirty minutes left.  “Ah, there you are, Darlin’, I was looking for you,” you recognized his voice instantly; before you could even process what he said, you felt his gloved hand snake around your waist to rest low on your hip. Chuuya’s cologne invaded your senses when his form leaned into yours, your heart giving an involuntary stutter. He eyed down the man still sitting in front of you; you’d be embarrassed to admit that you forgot the blonde existed for a moment. Retracting his grip from your thigh, Yamamoto leaned one elbow on the bar and upturned his chin to give Chuuya a sneer. “And who are you supposed to be? You’re kind of intruding.” “Yeah, Chuuya, what exactly are you doing?” you questioned. He ignored the implication in your tone. “You shouldn’t be fooling around with guys like this,” Chuuya turned his head to look at you and you struggled to place the emotion in his eyes, “you’re out of their league.” Yamamoto’s frown deepened. “And just who are you to claim that? The way I see it everyone gets a fair shot,” he retorted. “I’d just rather have my lady not waste her time on…” Chuuya gave the man a once over, “a man so clearly lacking the ability to treat her the way she deserves.” “You didn’t answer my ques-” Yamamoto tried to object again but Chuuya cut him off. “Anyway, we’d better get going, don’t you think so, Gorgeous?” Chuuya grinned at you, and you found your protests weak as he slid his hand down to grasp yours and lead you somewhere the air was quieter.

The hidden staircase had been cut from a gray granite; it spiraled left as you ascended. You barely got to take in the view of the ball from above before Chuuya swung a door open that led you outside. Twenty minutes left. The cool air on your skin did little to quell the heat bubbling underneath. You swore to yourself that you would refuse to leave the balcony until the executive gave you some clear answers.

Chuuya released your hand from his grasp but kept walking until he reached the polished railing overlooking the city and port of Yokohama. He leaned against it with a sigh, looking out onto the horizon as a thick silence filled the air.

“So, will you explain, or do I have to ask?” you started slowly, stepping up to meet him. He turned to look at you, his eyes deep and filled with thought. “What’s there to explain?” he sighed, turning to face you and leaning his hip against the railing, “Last time I checked, you’re not an idiot.” “That’s-” you let out a breath, “that’s besides the point. It’s still something that should be said.” “What is?” Chuuya’s grip on the railing tightened. “Why you acted like that with Taishi back there,” you attempted to prod, “I was just trying to squeeze information out of him. You know that, you were doing the exact same thing.” “Oh, so you’re on a first name basis with the gentleman now?” Chuuya scoffed slightly and you rolled your eyes. “First of all he insisted that I call him that, and second of all, buttering him up was the easiest way to get him to start telling me what I needed to know. Which I would have found out a lot more of, by the way, if someone hadn’t interrupted.” “I’d hardly call what you and I were doing ‘the same thing,’” Chuuya murmured, and you furrowed your brow. “And why not? The boss gave you a list too, right?” you placed a hand on your hip, “Profiles, attendees, individuals in possession of valuable assets. Yamamoto is quite the blabbermouth when he’s eager to show off.” “Freakin’ hell, I wasn’t the one...” Chuuya gestured to nothing, “gettin’ handsy with some goddamn court brat! From what I could tell there was a lot more than just an informational exchange going on there.”  “Why does that bother you, Chuuya?” you took a step closer, “You still haven’t answered my question.” Lowering his eyebrows, Chuuya brought his hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, and let out a sigh before crossing his arms. “You want me to spell it out for you or somethin’?” he looked at you again, defensiveness subtle in his tone. “Yes, Chuuya! That’s what I’ve been asking,” you replied, your eyes steady. Ten minutes left. “You want me to explain why I hate seeing you flirt around with other guys like that?” he scoffed slightly, annoyance bleeding into his voice. You noted the way he said 'other.' “I wasn’t flirting, that wasn’t real, you know that!” you insisted, but the man just continued. “You want me to explain why I can’t bear to see you making eyes n’ shit like that? Why I wish I could just keep you close?” Chuuya’s voice raised in volume. “For someone so direct you sure are being elusive about this, Chuuya,” you implored the man. “You want me to explain why I wanted to make sure we would match tonight? Why I bought you that dress that you look so… goddamn perfect in…” Chuuya clenched his jaw. “It’s because I want you to myself. It kills me that I can't tell if you care, and it kills me that I can’t seem to control myself around you.” “Chu, you-” you were about to cut him off but his fuse reached a boiling point. “I can’t control the fact that I love you, okay, Y/n?” he shouted slightly, “I…” he trailed off, and a deafening silence hung in the air. The flush that creeped into Chuuya’s cheeks rivaled the red of his hair. Five minutes left. Muttering a few curses under his breath, Chuuya turned to face the city lights down below, sliding his hands into his pockets. 

Chuuya had been drawn to you like a moth to flame. It wasn't right, your relationship was supposed to be professional, with you technically being one of his subordinates and all. Murder and death were common in the field you both worked in. His affection for you scared him. After all, what good things are meant to last? He wanted to protect you, he'd never forgive himself if he let such a beautiful soul be ripped from the world. Chuuya found that you were strong, kind, and no matter how many times you insisted otherwise, so much braver than he could ever be. He adored the way you always fuss over his injuries after a mission, even if it was the tiniest bruise. You deserved all the good things the world had to offer, and a small selfish part of himself hoped you could find it in him.

The man glanced your way and let out a sigh to find that you hadn’t moved from your position. “Listen… Y/n,” his voice was steady and quiet, “I didn’t mean for it to come out that way. You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to…” “So…” you started, and Chuuya held his breath, “you were jealous?” Chuuya let out a few sputters and turned to face you again. Only then did he notice the tinted color of your cheeks. The way you clutched a fist to your chest and looked at him like no one and nothing else existed in the whole world. The smallest hint of hope flickered in your expression, and his heart did a backflip. “I… guess you could call it that,” he admitted with uncharacteristic hesitancy. It took a moment for you to voice your response. “...I would be jealous too,” you muttered, and although Chuuya caught what you said he asked you to repeat yourself. “What was that?” he took a step forward, blinking a few times. You took a deep breath. “If I saw someone flirting with you- or if I saw you ‘making eyes’ at someone else… I would get jealous too…” you felt heat crawl up your neck at your declaration. Chuuya looked at you like your head was on backwards. “And why is that?” his voice carried softly, neither of you taking notice of the muffled sound of voices counting down from inside. “Because I love you too Chu…” you spoke quietly but he still caught it. You could hear your heart pumping in your ears. Just as Chuuya was about to spill out a reply, a startling boom sounded from your left. You turned your head and sucked in a breath at the display. Eruptions of colored fire danced around each other in the night sky. They echoed through the air, creating ethereal reflections in the water off in the distance.

“Happy New Years, Gorgeous,” Chuuya’s tender gaze never left your face. You turned back to look at him, and in that moment, with the way the moon and fireworks illuminated your form, he swore the sight before him was the most breathtaking view of his entire life. A light breeze blew by, the echoing explosions from the fireworks somehow fading into the distance. He glanced down at your lips and, even if ever so slightly began to lean in. A fuzzy feeling started in your chest as you closed the gap. His lips were warm, you’d never grow tired of the way he held you, kissed you as if you were the most precious thing in the world. You murmured softly after you pulled away, gentleness laced in your expression. “Happy New Years, Chu.” 

A/n: Thank you for reading! I hope you can find many things that make you smile this year ^^

Tagging: @a-random-weeb @ringsofsaturnnnn

[colorsunimaginable]

the spare // chapter sixty-nine // death eater ! tom hiddleston oc x plus size ofc - voldemort wins au

story summary: 

While on a mission to avenge the death of her best friend, Ilvermorny graduate Melisa Alder finds herself in the middle of the fight to defeat Voldemort. Upon capture after the Dark Lord's triumph, she's being sold at an auction with other muggle borns and blood traitors. Her only hope is also her only bidder - the tall, dark, and handsome Thomus Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy's younger half-brother. Is he just another Death Eater or is he hiding more than just his face beneath the mask? Will she realize her true potential to be one of the resistance's greatest weapons?

*a Voldemort Wins AU with Tom Hiddleston cast as an OC x a plus size protagonist* *takes place in The Auction universe by Lovesbitca8*

words for this chapter: 4.6k warnings for this chapter: p in v

banners by @cafekitsune

MASTERLIST

Chapter Sixty-Nine:

The closet is dark, but there’s just enough light reflecting from the floor to ceiling mirror. I can see the white of Rodolphus’ eyes as they grow in shock. 

Then he grins.

“Well, well, well. Hello there, pet.” His wand presses into my cheek and my grip on the knife tightens, the sharp edge digging into his throat. The smug look on his face sours as his smile dips and his eyes narrow. “How did he do it?”

“How did he do it?” I growl. “You mean how did I ?”

“Get away from her,” Thomus snarls, popping in from around the edge of the door.

Rodolphus doesn’t move, but I ease the knife back a little. The movement draws Thomus’ eyes and he gapes at me. 

“ Alder ,” he hisses. “What in Merlin’s name are you doing?”

“Back up,” I bark at both of them. I don’t like being cornered like this. Thomus glares, but listens, backing out of Rodolphus’ way when he finally moves. I follow, keeping the blade within stabbing distance. Out in the room, Thomus snatches Rodolphus’ wand from his grip, keeping his own pointed at him. 

I twist the knife, turning the pointy end to press up under his jaw. “Tell me how to break the curse.”

Thomus is standing just beyond Rodolphus’ shoulder, his expression hard as he shakes his head, warning me not to continue. Rageful frustration boils and bursts from my chest. “What other option is there!? One misfired spell and I’m right back to where I was - or worse ?”

“You’re scared ,” Rodolphus purrs, not bothering to hide his satisfaction. “As you should be, Mudblood. Whatever it is you’ve done, it won’t be enough.” 

I fight to keep my lower lip from trembling, but I twist my knife, pressing upwards. He looks me dead on and doesn’t flinch when his skin punctures from the pressure. A line of dark blood trickles down his neck, staining his white collar. 

“He’s not going to tell you,” Thomus says calmly, putting his hand on my raised arm. My gaze bounces from one man to the other before I latch onto Thomus’ eyes. They’re firm, indicating his emotions are under control, fully masked.

Meanwhile, I’m the complete opposite. My throat is tight and I know if I try to speak, my voice will wobble and I won’t be able to hold the tears back. Swallowing audibly, I start lowering the knife. 

Rodolphus chooses that moment to snicker. “That’s right, dog, listen to your master.”

Now that makes me snap. The rage in me spikes so strong, he’s lucky I only stun him. His knees give out from under him and he crumples to the floor. The decision was impulsive, but not one I regret.

“I was under the impression that your magic was keeping the curse contained. Is that not true?” he asks.

I take a few deep breaths, feeling a little better with Rodolphus knocked out. “It is,” I reply slowly, matching his tone. Finding it hard to meet his eyes, I inspect the skull handle of the knife in my hands. “But one day it might not be.”

He steps forward, cupping my cheek, and forcing eye contact. “I promise to find a solution. This won’t be forever.”

“Okay,” I whisper. My heart believes him, trusts him. I step back and look down at Rodolphus. “What’re we going to do now?”

Thomus sighs loudly and crouches down. “It’ll have to be something terribly clever or I’m knee deep in a pond of shit.”

An unexpected giggle escapes as I crouch down by the pile of broken lenses and bent metal that remains of my glasses. “You mean knee deep up shit creek?”

“Isn’t that what I said?”

“Close.” My hand hovers over the pile as I try to keep a straight face and murmur. “ Oculus Reparo .”

A white light flashes over my glasses as the pieces come back together again. When I put them on, Thomus is still kneeling by Rodolphus, poking through his pockets.

“Do you rummage through pockets often?” I ask, a bit surprised. So far he’s pulled out a flask, a few galleons, mints, and a folded handkerchief. 

Thomus shrugs. “Easy to get information without so much as a word spoken.”

“Hm… Fair enough,” I sift through the small pile of things and pause at the heaviness of the handkerchief. Hoping not to find any boogers in there, I use only the tips of my fingers to shake it around. Thankfully, no boogers, but something golden and shiny with a distinct hourglass shape clatters to the floor. 

“Is that a bloody Time-Turner?” Thomus says with disbelief. “What’s he doing with that?”

I gasp. “This solves our problem, doesn’t it?” I ask excitedly. “We only need to go back to the last couple of minutes before he knocks. We just have to be ready.”

Thomus takes a sniff of whatever’s in the flask, raising a brow at me before taking a sip. “Ready with what?” he asks. “We were kind of in the middle of something there, if you care to recall.”

As I scramble for something clever to say, I glance up at him to find his eyes trailing down my body. I’d get to be right in the middle of that again? I swear my clit throbs at the thought. 

I clear my throat and change the subject. “Maybe you came up here because you were feeling sick? Drank too much? Does that sound plausible?” My hand stretches out toward the bottle of champagne he’d brought in earlier and it drifts soundlessly over the floor to me. I use magic to uncork it before taking a long sip. I pass it over to him as I continue to speak. “Because I’m thinking, you’re already gonna be sweaty and red-faced anyway, you know? And you might as well actually drink, it’ll make it more believable.”

“Right,” he nods after a moment’s consideration. He brings the bottle to his lips. “And where will you be?”

“Disillusioned. It’s what I should have done the first time,” I admit. “Have you used a Time-Turner before?”

“Only a few times. Yourself?”

I shake my head. “Never.”

He points his wand at Rodolphus’ wound and heals it, scourgifying his collar too. “Then we’ll need to be extra careful.”

After a surprisingly quick discussion, we agree on what needs to stay the same and what needs to change. We ready the scene and get into position. From Thomus’ explanation, if we’re relatively in the same spot, doing the same thing as our past selves at the time we’re traveling to, we should morph into our past selves.

“How much time do you think you’ll need before he knocks?” I ask, holding the turner up close to get a better look at the fine sands. 

Thomus sits on the window seat, loosening his tie and shrugging off his jacket again. I’ve remained in my leggings and hoodie, having skipped the outfit change to save time. I run my hands over the sides of his face, fingers threading into his hair. His hands find my hips and he guides me closer in between his knees. His hands travel under the hoodie, roughly grabbing my breasts and squeezing. His fingers on my nipples are oh, so soft though.

“You’re sure we’re not gonna forget the first time around?” I ask, hearing the nervousness in my voice. 

“Darling, if we do, I’ll have no problem recreating that experience with you,” he promises.

His reassurance makes me feel better and I let my mouth find his. He kisses me like it’s the first time he’s done so all night. His tongue traces and savors the taste of my lips. I quickly become lost in the gentleness, my head beginning to swim with desire for him all over again.

His hands on my hips urge me to turn around, reminding me of our mission. When I hear the soft clicks of his belt being undone, I quickly thumb my pants and undies to my knees. His fingers spread across the curve of my butt, his palm caressing. I plant my hands on his thighs, just above his knees and push my hips backward.

Thomus chuckles and shoves the hem of my hoodie further up my waist, humming his approval. “Look at you, so needy, already?”

I bite my lip and silently laugh. My eyes are closed, trying to focus on how I feel. Every measured breath, the ache in my thighs, the thick head of his cock as it easily slides past my still-slick lips.

I take a sharp, full breath to speak, but I still sound breathless. “More like impatient.”

True to my word, I rock my hips back and he glides home in one go. The forceful, delicious impact of my body on his makes him release a deep groan. His fingers dig into my hips painfully, pulling me to him still. Short, desperate moans escape my throat as I adjust to his size and the tight fit. My thighs are already burning from this position and from earlier, but his cock just feels so fucking good. The muscles in his thighs flex beneath my hands as he grinds against my ass. 

Before we get carried away, I fumble for the Time-Turner hanging from its long chain around my neck. I twist my torso, slinging the chain around his neck too. 

His breath is on the edge of running away from him as he speaks. “Give the gear a half turn forward and a quarter turn back. That should put us where we need to be.”

I nod, unable to stop moving my hips as I turn the knob the specific way Thomus instructed. The moment I’m done, I hear the rapid ticking of a clock and gears turning as the hourglass begins to spin. 

We watch the room as time reverses. I see ourselves crouched over Rodolphus before he’s on his feet, backing up towards the hallway door. I see Past-Thomus undress and see myself backing out of the closet stark naked. At that sight, I quickly avert my gaze back to Thomus.

All too soon, our past and present selves join at the same place on the window seat. Our positions are different, but the act is the same. I refocus on rocking my body and feeling every drag of his cock in my pussy.

I can tell the exact moment when our past and present realign themselves. My pussy is pulsing and suddenly much wetter. My body feels like I’ve been getting thoroughly fucked for a bit longer than it does two breaths ago. The pleasure flowing through me skyrockets right to the beginnings of a mind-numbing orgasm. 

Thomus shudders behind me, releasing a guttural groan, having landed in the same predicament. Then without any warning, his hands are shoving me forward and pulling me back, fucking me like he just can’t help himself. His hips are somehow jerking up, too, making his cock hit just the right spot. My eyes roll into the back of my head as my orgasm takes over my body. I push him as deep as he can go, feeling my pussy squeeze and contract around his big cock.

“ Merlin’s beard ,” he hisses low as he cums, fingers digging bruises into my hips. His hips are twitching underneath me, shoving his spasming cock in and out the tiniest bit, milking every last ounce of pleasure from my cunt.

“Oh my god,” I say when I can breathe again.

Thomus lets out another tortured groan as I force myself to stand. His dick slips out with an audibly wet plop and I can’t hold back a shaky laugh at his words, shimmying up my pants on wobbly legs.

Pants on, I grab the champagne and shove it towards him. “Drink up.”

He stands, redoing his belt. He’d already opted to take his suit jacket off. I reach out to unbutton the top of his shirt, then up further to ruffle his hair a little. He takes the bottle from me and chugs just as Rodolphus announces his arrival with his fist against the back of the door. 

Of course we’d been expecting it, so this time we don’t immediately jump into panic mode. Thomus takes his time drinking, unbothered by the persistent asshole at the door. My eyes bounce around nervously, and I wave my hand towards the bathroom, making sure it’s lit as if he were just in there.

“Thomus!” Rodolphus barks. “Where’ve you been? I’ve been sent to fetch your ungrateful ass.”

Thomus pauses to burp before taking one last swig, then starts for the door. I grab the front of his shirt and plant a kiss on his cheek. He gives me one in return before I step back and Disillusion myself against the wall. 

Thomus opens the door just enough for his body to be shown. He slumps against the frame, and I can hear the faux exhaustion in his voice. “What do you want?”

Rodolphus’ words repeat. “You missed your brother’s toast. How could you have - “

“Not that it’s any of your bloody business,” Thomus interrupts, “but I’ve been quite unwell this evening.” He fakes a gag, but it sounds pretty convincing to me. 

“You can’t be serious,” Rodolphus scoffs. “Do you honestly expect me to believe - “

“Believe what you wish,” Thomus interrupts. 

The door Thomus is propping open jolts suddenly, but he’s quick to grab it and prevent it from opening more. “Is she in there?”

“Who?”

“You bloody know who.”

“Seeing as how it’s my bedroom in my family estate, the contents of it are none of your business,” Thomus says pointedly. “Don’t you have anything better to do on New Year’s Eve?”

“This isn’t the first event you’ve mysteriously disappeared from,” Rodolphus says. “Forgive me for wanting to know my wife’s whereabouts.”

“I don’t care about your wife’s whereabouts,” Thomus seethes. “My only concern is that she isn’t here.”

“That’s a first -”

“I retreated to my own toilet to vomit, and the evidence should still be there, Lestrange, if you so desire to look.”

“Ugh,” Rodolphus scoffs angrily. “You’re revolting. Your mudblood’s really rubbing off on you.”

“If that was your only reason to disturb me - “

“Yaxley wants you to join us,” Rodolphus says. “In that little drawing room off the stairs.”

I can see Thomus’ stance reluctantly shift as he straightens. His elbow pops in and out of view as he finger-combs his hair again. 

“If I must,” Thomus growls, then he steps out, shutting the door behind him.

I breathe a sigh of relief and sag against the wall. Thank god that’s over. We got everything done in time.

In … time.

With horror, I look down and see the Time-Turner still dangling from my neck.

Oh my fucking god, how the fuck could I forget?! I mean, since we rewound time, does that mean he has another copy of this Time-Turner and we have this one for free?

I don’t even want a Time-Turner. It’s too tempting of a problem solver. I’ve gotta put it back in Rodolphus’ pocket.

Keeping my Disillusionment charm up, I creep open the door. Thomus and Rodolphus are hardly down the hall, so I open and close the door slowly so as to not make any noise. I’m still in my socks, so I quickly and, more importantly, quietly glide down the hard wood floors after them. The good thing about the Disillusionment charm is that as long as no one’s looking for you or really at you, you’re practically invisible. Especially if you’re really good at it - which I am.

By the top of the stairs, we aren’t alone anymore. Thomus had stopped for some reason and I guess it’s because he sees his brother. I hear a man call out, “Lucius! Come join us. We were just discussing Geneva.”

Thomus peeks over the railing as he continues down. Lucius replies, “Of course. Give me a moment to put my pet to bed.” My eyes immediately start looking for a place to tuck myself in and hide.

“Bring her,” the other man continues. “I was just about to come looking for you as well. We have the other one in here too. And see? Here comes Rodolphus with your brother.”

Oh my god, the other one ? What the fuck does that mean? Hermione wasn’t the only Lot allowed to come?

Thomus and Rodolphus have disappeared from sight, so I creep forward until I’m able to see heads below. Yaxley is standing next to the stairs, looking up at the pair descending them. Between their bodies, I see Lucius’ blond head, Hermione’s curls and twinkling jewelry.

Lucius still hesitates, even as they move to accommodate Thomus and Rodolphus. Yaxley gets impatient. “Don’t be stingy. Your guests want to see the finest horses in the show.” He smirks. “Maybe we’ll let them wrestle.”

“Just for a few minutes, I suppose,” Lucius stiffly replies.

No more words are said as they all shuffle into the small sitting room below the stairs. I move down the stairs so quickly I’m practically flying - well, falling. But I’m holding onto the railing for dear life, just trying to get to that door before it closes.

The feat proves impossible though, because that’s exactly what it does. And now I’m fucking stuck in the main hall. I can clearly see the couple hundred people still partying in the ballroom. Back to my last plan, which was looking for a place to hide. 

There’s a promising spot across the room by the windows. I beeline for the dark curtains, swiftly turning into them. Tucked away, I’ll still be able to see when they open the door.

I stand there long enough for my feet and thighs to ache, and for at least ten songs to go by, until finally someone opens the door. It’s Lucius and Hermione. He’s taking her back to her room, and thank fuck he doesn’t close the door. 

I dart to it, but then slowly inch my way in. My eyes bore into all the faces I can see, making sure no one is looking at me. Thomus is just lowering into a chair near the front of the room and Rodolphus is deeper in, sitting on the armrest of his brother’s chair. I crouch walk to Thomus’ chair, hiding between the back of it and a liquor cart. 

“And where’s your Lot this evening, Thomus?” Nott Sr.’s old, scratchy voice skitters from another chair. “Why isn’t she being trotted out as part of the Malfoy parade?”

My poor thighs can’t handle crouching anymore, so I kneel next to the wall, my face by Thomus’ shoulder. At Nott’s question, I look up at Thomus for his response. 

Dolohov snickers. “Because that one’s not a trophy, is she?”

Rabastan smiles after his drink. “You got that right, mate.” 

“Can you believe what Witch Weekly wrote about her?” Mulciber jumps in. “There’s no way a mudblood did all that.”

A few voice their agreements and laugh, because it’s just so funny I guess. Then Thomus’ soft, sure voice silences them. “Yes, I believe it. Why don’t you?”

The question’s aimed at Mulciber, who looks taken aback by it. He smiles in disbelief and his eyes bounce around the room. “Because it’s obvious, isn’t it? A girl like her, beating all those Purebloods, it’s got to be fake. The tournament was stolen from them by a bloody charlatan.”

“Mulciber,” Thomus says, sounding vaguely concerned at this man’s answer. “There’s thousands of eye-witnesses, first-hand photos, and official documentation of her achievements in those tournaments, and you believe they’re fake?”

All eyes swivel to Mulciber like the camera’s just zoomed in on his face. The embarrassment easily gets to him, because his face turns pink and he responds with anger. “Oh, right, like you’ve seen all this evidence.”

Surprisingly, Rodolphus is the first to Thomus’ defense. “The twat’s a bloody journalist,” he says, sounding appalled at his fellow Death Eater’s stupidity.

“So?”

“So yes, I’ve done plenty of proper research on her,” Thomus replies, a hard edge to his voice. “Is it really that hard to believe what they say is true?”

“Alright, fine, if she’s this big shot mudblood , what’s she doing with you then?” Rabastan asks. 

Before Thomus can even respond, Avery, who’s standing by the fireplace with Ginny tucked into his side, shoots out, “Would you ever consider selling her?”

“Why would you buy her ?” Mulciber asks, visibly disgusted. “You’ve already got the second most expensive cunt of the lot!”

“You should know by now that we all have different tastes, Mulciber,” Avery says, clearly referencing something. “Sometimes my pet is a bit too… fragile, if you catch my meaning.”

God, why are all of these men such sadistic fucks ? I’m glad I’m hidden so I can hide the disgust on my face.

“She isn’t on the market,” Thomus states, almost angrily. “I’m very aware of the value of my property and she’s worth far more than you think.”

Avery gives him a dubious look. “Surely it can’t be all that large of a sum. She isn’t even a virgin anymore.”

“You got that right,” Dolohov snickers. “Verified that myself.”

“And it was never any secret,” Rodolphus slides in. 

A lot of them kinda laugh at that. Not Thomus, though. Rodolphus winks at him from across the room, and Thomus’ hands clench tightly in his lap. Being this close to him means I can hear the deep, steadying breath he takes.

Avery heartily chuckles. “Well, it all feels the same in the dark. Doesn’t it, Thomus?”

“I… have to disagree,” Thomus says without the same humor. “With this war, all the long hours and hard days, a soft body to come home to is a welcoming respite.”

His honest confession silences the room before Dolohov cracks a joke. “Well, I need a nice tighter ass than that fat cow’s got.”

“Young man, watch your tongue!” one of the portraits hisses. Looks like one of Thomus’ grandmothers. 

Some snicker at the scolding, but Yaxley’s authoritative voice from the end of the couch speaks above it. “Did you hear they’re demanding her release?” 

They’re what? My eyes widen and the vibe of the room suddenly turns serious at the question. 

“Yes, I’ve heard,” Thomus answers.

“Who’s demanding her release?” Rodolphus asks.

“ Witch Weekly and their American associates The Witch’s Voice ,” Yaxley says. “Whether or not the mudblood actually possesses this preternatural wandless magical ability doesn’t matter - they certainly believe it. Of course her release is out of the question. She needs to remain under lock and key, not with the rebels fighting against us.” He looks around the room, meeting everyone’s eyes, settling on Thomus’ last. “How much of a threat do you believe she poses?”

“She does not pose a threat while she’s in my custody,” Thomus replies. “I’ve gone to great personal lengths to ensure that.”

My chest is painfully tight, an ache growing there at his words. What’s he talking about? 

“Excellent,” Yaxley says. “Expect the Dark Lord to demand an audience with you soon within the new year.”

“Yes, sir,” Thomus replies.

Yaxley stands, buttoning his jacket. “Now, I will rejoin my wife and daughter in the ballroom as I encourage you all to as well.”

Thus begins everyone’s exit. They mill about, taking their time, chatting over nothing that I really care about. Thomus doesn’t move immediately and I take this opportunity to place my hand on his forearm resting on the chair. Tension springs to his muscles at my touch and I slide my hand down to his. He subtly glances down at his hand to watch me slip the Time-Turner into it. I get on one knee, lifting my lips to his ear.

“Put this back in his pocket,” I whisper. “I’m gonna wait here until the coast is clear.”

I slink back into my corner, watching as he drops his chin, not looking in my direction. Rodolphus has already left the room, so I know Thomus is gonna have to follow him. Which he does when he realizes the few remaining in the room aren’t planning to leave yet. 

Of the three that remain, Mulciber and Rabastan say a few things I can’t hear before they’re snickering amongst themselves. Nott Sir. is passed out in his chair. The other two slowly make their way to the door, their conversation growing louder.

“Did you hear back from Montague’s uncle in France?” Mulciber asks.

Rabastan sighs heavily. “No, so that means there's another defector for Thomus to find.”

“I can’t believe the boy would leave, especially with his father’s health.”

They pause by the door. Rabastan scans the hallway and double checks that Nott is sleeping.

“Thomus is supposedly the last person to have seen him,” Rabastan says, “but you didn’t hear that from me.”

Mulciber agrees to keep quiet as they finally leave the room. 

I’m frozen while my brain struggles to process all of this new information until Nott’s snore reminds me my exit window is closing. Without being seen, I slip back upstairs to Thomus’ room.

~*~

I finally pass out for a bit after crawling into bed for the millionth time tonight. It’s still dark when he returns. When he sees that I’m awake, he gives me a gentle smile and kisses my forehead.

My heart thuds heavily in my chest, very awake now that I’m swooning over forehead kisses.

He pulls back the covers and I open my arms to him. He crawls right in, his head on my chest and my arms around his shoulders.

“How’d it go?” I ask. “With Rodolphus?”

“Bit underwhelming,” he answers. His voice is a little muffled because his face is half-buried in my boob. “I just waited until he was drunk enough. Didn’t take long.”

“That’s a relief,” I sigh. 

“What’s a relief is you not being seen,” he says, sounding irritated and impressed. “Had you been there the entire time?”

“I only came in when your brother and Hermione left.”

He exhales heavily and his head shakes a bit. “I’m sorry you had to hear all of that.”

I think for a second, then I chuckle. “I’ve definitely said way worse to myself, don’t worry. They can say all they want, but I did get absolutely railed tonight, so…”

His shoulders shake under my hands with silent laughter. “Yes, that’s true,” he says after he can take a breath. “I’m surprised you haven’t any questions regarding the articles about you.”

“The ones demanding my release?”

“Yes.”

“Well, isn’t it up to you? It’s not like the cops can come and take me away, right?”

His arms tighten over mine, his leg hiking over my thigh. “No one can take you from me,” he says darkly. “I won’t let them.”

I’m stunned by the intensity of his words. New year, new Thomus, I guess. My fingers start to comb through his hair, which does its job to calm both him and me. 

Tonight’s been a big night for us. The whole thing with Rodolphus, the meeting, and let's not forget he more or less admitted to having feelings for me, to caring about me more than he should.

The problem is that I want it so… so bad. The whole thing with Rodolphus could've went much worse if he didn't trust me to handle myself. He went to so much trouble to sneak me in here to be able to kiss me for New Years. He even defended me in front of a roomful of his peers and superiors. Like, how else am I supposed to feel? How am I not supposed to want more when I've been gifted a taste of what I've always wanted? This has to be the universe's form of punishing me.

For now, I kiss his temple and drape my arms over his shoulders to hold him tighter, dreading the day I can't.

[elmundodeflor]

If there's anything Levi Ackerman's learnt, is that things never go as expected.

He was born in a place where every day he was put up to challenge. He had lost his mom and friends.

He found it ironic— some kind of tragedy one almost wants to laugh at. Each time he thought he could finally sit back, get comfortable, relax, life showed him how wrong he was for it.

"Farlan and Isabel, right?", Hanji's voice makes him startle. Their words turn to drawings in the air— figments of ice that spiral through the night. "Were they your siblings?"

Levi shrugs it off. It's been a year since that day, but the memories still make his chest hurt. Like a wound that has yet to get closed.

"None of your business.", he says. Hanji looks at him through the corner of their eye, then lets out a soft giggle. He never understood them; — how they could still be light-hearted in a world so heavy. He was harsh and closed-off. They could have gotten offended at him for his distance— shouted at him for being this cold. But they hadn't. They hadn't and, instead, they could only graze him bright smiles in turn.

"You know...", they speak. They're in the headquarters' rooftop, watching the snow. It's New Years Eve; the first one where they can see the yard turn this pristine shade of white. "My father used to tell me that, upon celebrations, our big, big family table didn't start where he sat, nor ended where I was sitting."

Levi raises a brow. He can see their hair, poking out of their hat, dusted off with snowflakes. The slightest tinge of pink that burns on the bridge of their nose.

Hanji continues.

"He said that the table kept going, and going, and going, until it wrapped around the world and appeared right behind him.", they say. "That everyone we knew was sitting there besides us. Grandpa, my mom... even Farlan and Isabel could be there, too!"

Levi scoffs. He can frame the picture in his mind, actually; vivid, and wild, and colorful. He didn't know Hanji's family, but he imagines them, as well; all with their same brown eyes and glasses. The table's filled with food; warm rice, roast-beef, potatoe soup. He can taste the sweet and spice on his tongue, smell the veil of smoke that comes from the kitchen. His mom sits next to him, graceful as she's always been. She wears a white shirt, a silver necklace ducked underneath.

He turns to her and smiles; a small tug at his lips that resembles hers. He's dying to tell her something, to ask her questions, to introduce her to Hanji.

"It's nice, I guess...", they say, once more. They're leaning on the railings, staring over at the skies. "Dad used to say that, in order to meet everyone again, we had to pretend that we were little kids. That it was important for us to believe in magic..."

Levi stays silent; his eyes closed when the wirlwind blows. He had always expected for miracles, back when Kuchel would return home late. He had always hoped for some force to make her warm again. To fill the tiny holes that'd crack his heart.

Now, little there's left of that child he once was. But he can play pretend, as Hanji's father would say. He can see, instead of just look.

Farlan and Isabel bicker over who'll take the spot next to him. There's a bouquet of flowers, front and center, surrounded by dry leafs and candles. He can hear Erwin's voice, as he pours up some wine for him. He can watch over at his squad, who he's proud of, all passing down the plates and drinks.

It's a sight he grows fond of. An image that's warm and makes him bubble up with joy. He feels less alone, now that he's allowed himself to believe. That he's let kid-Levi have this one wish turn true.

"Hey", Hanji elbows him, almost as if to wake him from his daydream.

He blinks at them, still dizzy, and his breaths swirl into white clouds. Now, they'll go downstairs to have dinner with everyone else, and there won't be roast beef or potatoe soup. The table won't have fresh flowers. There probably won't even be wine. Still, he thinks, Erwin will be there. And Mike. And Nanaba. And his squad, too.

They'll light candles, and there will be a trail of smoke coming from the kitchen. And so, when the clock hits twelve and everyone cheers, he swears, he'll believe in magic. He'll be a child all over. He'll see, and not just look.

He'll sit next to his mother, and ask her the questions he'd been dying to. He'll let Farlan and Isabel take turns on the chair besides him. He'll have champagne with Hanji's dad.

It's okay with him, really— that he'll only get to have this, a small portion of them, for the rest of his life. He's finally come to terms with one's own, human fatality. Erwin's the big brother he's never had, Hanji has that same grace of his mother's.

"Beep-boop", they wave a hand in front of him. "Earth calling Levi?"

He rolls his eyes at them.

"What is it now?"

They pout, then drag him by the sleeves of his parka.

"Have you even been listening? We have to get going!"

Levi stares at them, — at how their glasses have almost frosted. Petra tells Oluo that his cravat's ridiculous. Moblit's rushing over with the food. There's the clink of porcelain and the smell of bread. It all floats up to the roof, where they both have been, then fades off with the snow.

He's aware, this year there won't be dessert, or champagne, or his mother, either. But he has this, instead— these people he considers family. A big, big group of misfits that somehow fit together.

He feels less alone, now that he's allowed himself to believe, that love can take shape in such cruel world. This is what kid-Levi would have wanted, he tells himself. The warmth. The company.

"Let's go, then.", he says, and Hanji laughs at him, dragging him further down the stairs.

Truth is, spending New Years like this— being a Scout— comes as a complete surprise to him. That this isn't at all how he expected things to be.

Then again, he figures, however, he's alright with it. This, — Hanji, the family he's found, being a Scout, even—, is the one choice he won't ever regret.

[thee-great-enigma]

A little New Year's drabble expect more

Lemme know if I should add onto this maybe with more characters or smth. Also, I'm trying out using [name] for reader instead of (?)

Also, @silkval I plan to get part two out soon for you I'm sorry I forgot it was in my drafts

Male reader x Lonely lil Kaeya :(

What about Kaeya who hasn't been able to celebrate holidays much because he doesn't have people to spend them with. He's not one for big party's and prefers to just sit at the bar trying to pick on his brother just to be able to talk to him.

But you're there.

And you wanna talk to him.

Not just because you also don't feel like socializing with anyone else, but because you find him interesting. The silver-tongued, charming, pretty, always smiling, and outgoing Cavalry Captain of Monstadt, not wanting to really party with anyone. You found it a little ironic.

So you a little awkwardly scooted over to the stool beside him, Diluc having long walked away to ignore Kaeya.

Kaeya raised an eyebrow and turned to face you, because he couldn't really see you well when you were sitting directly in the blind spot his eye patch provided.

"Oh? What are you doing here [name]? Shouldn't you be partying with the others, family and whatnot?" He said, taking a sip of his favorite drink.

"I could say the same thing for you. But I'm afraid I just don't have the energy for a party right now. Maybe later. Although, I like to entertain the idea that we could have a little party of our own."

"Is that so? What would we do at this little party?"

"Well, let me think. We could play some board games up on the roof of my humble abode, we could drink and eat sweats that we bake together, we could do little sparklers and draw pictures and countdown to midnight together. And we can squeeze in whatever else you want in there."

Kaeya took another sip of his drink as if considering your offer, but really he knew his answer before you even said what you'd do together.

"Alright then. Let's welcome the New Year together, dear [name]."

[ejzah]

A/N: Wishing everyone a Happy New Year! Can’t believe it’s the end of another year.

***

Until the End of Time

“Are they asleep?” Deeks whispered, creeping into the living room. Kensi nodded, speaking equally quiet.

“Just a minute ago.”

Peering over the couch, Deeks smiled down at the twins cradled on Kensi’s lap. At three days old, Caleb and Sophia were remarkably calm and settled into the family. Deeks wasn’t sure if it was just a honeymoon period, but he intended to enjoy it for as long as it lasted.

“Come here,” Kensi said, patting the spare cushion. Deeks slid in next to her, carefully transferring Caleb into his arms. Caleb twitched slightly, one of his hands clenching and unclenching, but then settled again, turning his little face into Deeks’ chest.

“How was your meeting?”

“Good. I think we made some headway on the case. Sorry about skipping out on you,” Deeks apologized. Technically, he was supposed to be on maternity leave right now, but one of his clients had called in a state.

“It’s ok. I’m glad you were able to help.“ She leaned up to kiss him. “But now I get you all to myself for the rest of the holiday.”

“All yours,” he promised. Then reached out to tweak Sophia’s bare foot. “And these guys.”

“Not exactly a wild celebration,” Kensi observed wryly. “I think if I have anything to drink, I’ll pass out in two seconds.”

Deeks chuckled, feeling pretty much the same. Even with the twins sleeping well, they still were fairly exhausted.

“It may be a sedate night, but it’s certainly been a wild year,” Deeks said, caressing Kensi’s cheek in a soothing rhythm. “We started out the year with one kid, working for NCIS, to food poisoning turning into a surprise pregnancy—”

“Oh my god, you’re never going to let me live down the food poisoning thing, are you?” Kensi groaned, pressing her forehead into his chest.

“Oh, that story’s going to come up every time we talk about these two.” He chuckled, remembering Kensi’s ire aimed in his direction, followed by her immediate giddy apology when they found out she was pregnant. “You yelled at me for like a week straight and threw away my chicken parmigiana the day after I got it. And all the time it was our little Pastry Babies causing all the trouble.”

Kensi’s lips twisted in a grimace, then she allowed a sheepish smile. “It is kind of ridiculous that I thought I had food poisoning for two weeks and never once thought I could be pregnant.”

“But it made the surprise that much better,” Deeks said.

“Would you change anything?” Kensi asked unexpectedly. Deeks sensed there was more to the question, so he stayed silent, waiting for her to gather her thoughts

“This year is completely different that from what we expected. Obviously not the job part, because we were both pretty burnt out on fieldwork. Clearly.” She made a noise that perfectly encapsulated Deeks’ feelings on the matter. “But it probably would have been easier if we had more time to plan for these guys or to buy a bigger house.” Finishing, Kensi titled her head up towards Deeks.

“Would I change having the most beautiful twins in the world with the love of my life?” He said, shaking his head. “No. Not in a million years, Kens. This life we built with Rosa, we’re continuing to build with the twins, is everything, and I couldn’t think of anything that would make it better.”

Kensi wiped a tear away from her eye, laughing wetly. “Ok, you need to stop making such amazing speeches while I’m still coming down from pregnancy hormones,” she joked. She leaned forward until their lips met. “I love you, Marty Deeks, and I wouldn’t want to live this life with anyone but you.”

“I love you, Kensi Blye. Until the end of time,” Deeks whispered back.

[getmehighonmagic]

Last Line Written in 2023

Firstly, HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE! ♥ I've had a very blessed evening by myself and celebrated the new year with my cat and blackcurrant flavoured cider, which is now my favourite. I hope everyone had a lovely evening with loved ones and good food!

Now, onto this thing. Thank you for the tags @kiwiana-writes @firenati0n @hgejfmw-hgejhsf ♥ I'm actually finishing up my New Year's fic, so the last line I wrote was from this one. If I can get my head in the game, this fic will be posted tomorrow!

“A tiny surprise for you?” Henry suggests, pulling his coat and one side of his shirt open to flash Alex the tiniest strip of baby blue lace. “Perhaps,” he says with a shrug. “I’m gonna die,” Alex whines, grabbing onto Henry’s hips when he turns around and starts walking back to the door. “Oh God, I’m going to die.”

I'm no pressure tagging @sparklepocalypse @clottedcreamfudge @congee4lunch @violetbaudelaire-quagmire @magicandarchery @bigassbowlingballhead @eusuntgratie @winderlylandchime @happiness-of-the-pursuit @anincompletelist

[sheena-is-a-punk-rocker]

Ringing in the new year with three soldiers, an insurance agent, and a criminal who sucks at geography and spelling

Got a prompt for a New Year's fic in which Harley meets Rick's army buddies and they try to wrap their heads around the fact that their friend is dating THE Harley Quinn. Happy New Year, motherfuckers!

Rick’s sitting on the couch in a rented cabin in the woods—sipping a beer and catching up on life with his two closest army buddies that he hasn’t seen since his ill-fated reunion trip that was interrupted six months ago. Harley’s with him this time, so no chance of anything bad happening.

“Dude, you’re dating Harley Quinn?” His buddy, Kane, asks incredulously.

Apparently he hadn’t specified last time they hung out. Whoops.

“Isn’t she wanted in like seven countries?” His other friend, Ramirez, asks.

“Not anymore,” he replies. Actually, that might not be true, now that he thinks about it. They have immunity from Waller and her bullshit, but not necessarily any foreign governments. Best not to take any international trips, just to be on the safe side.

“Wasn’t she with the Joker for like, a really long time? How has he not killed you yet?”

“Oh, I don’t think Mistah J is gonna be a problem for us anymore,” Harley slurs as she makes her way into the living room—plastic glass of champagne in her hand. She plops down on his lap and pats his cheek. “Ain’t that right, baby?”

He chuckles and pulls her closer. “How many glasses of champagne have you had, Harls?”

“Um… I lost count?”

“How many bottles have you had?”

“Oh! Two!”

He grabs the glass out of her hand and downs the rest of it. “Okay, that’s enough of that for you.”

“They weren’t big bottles!” Harley whines.

“Wait wait wait,” Kane interjects. “You can’t just drop a bomb like that and not elaborate. Did she kill him, Flag?”

“Wasn’t me!”

“You killed him?”

Rick contemplates his answer very carefully. These are his ride or die best friends who have been through the worst with him so he’s pretty sure they won’t turn him into the cops.

“Seriously maimed him,” is what he ends up landing on.

“With his bare hands!” Harley says proudly, with a wet kiss to his cheek.

There’s awed silence for several moments as what he just revealed sinks in. He doesn’t see what’s so surprising about it. It’s not like he hasn’t killed before. He’s killed so many people, in fact, that he’s lost count. Besides, Joker isn’t really that scary.

Ramirez looks like he’s getting ready to say something about the whole thing when Kane’s wife, Rachel, makes an appearance. She has beer and a glass of champagne with her—the latter of which she offers to Harley, who makes grabby hands at it.

He grabs it before she can and sets it aside on an end table out of her reach. “Awww, you suck!”

He chuckles and kisses her temple. “You’ll thank me later when you’re not puking your guts out at midnight, Harls.”

That seems to satisfy her and she relaxes into his embrace.

“So,” Ramirez says. “This is the same Harley who almost burned the apartment down trying to make mac n cheese?”

“That was one time!”

“Three times, Harls. And then there was the time you set off the fire alarm making cookies.”

“That was one time!”

“And the time you—” she claps a hand over his mouth before he can finish his sentence.

“I think they get it! Now can we please change the subject?”

Rachel does the honors, as she comes back to the living room with her own glass of champagne. “So, Harley, what do you do for work?”

“Oh lots of stuff! Rob banks, murder dictators, yell at doctors. I have a card!”

She shoves her hand in her pocket and emerges with her handwritten business card. It’s covered in glitter and the ink is smudged. She hands it over to Rachel, who doesn’t really know what to make of the whole situation.

“Oh. I just… work in life insurance,” she says awkwardly, before attempting to read the card.

Rick snorts and tries to cover it up with a cough. People never quite know what to make of Harley when they first meet her.

“Does that say… ‘mercerany’?”

“It does,” he says with a laugh. It’s a running joke at this point. She’s in his phone under the name “Mercerany #4 (Harls)”.

“I was six margaritas and about five shots of tequila deep at that point, so sue me.”

“You also just suck at spelling even when you’re sober, Harls.”

“Fuck off!”

Rachel squints at the smudged handwriting. “Finder of lost things?”

“Oh! Yeah! I’m great at findin’ lost shit! If ya lose somethin’, I’m your gal!”

The alcohol keeps flowing as Harley launches into her story about her time with the Birds of Prey and Roman Sionis. Before Rick knows it, Rachel is lamenting about her asshole coworker who’s been making her life a living hell.

“And HR won’t do anything about it!”

“Oooh, want me to show up and set her desk on fire?”

Rachel laughs and almost chokes on her champagne.

“She’s serious, you know,” he feels the need to clarify. And then adds, “Maybe don’t go straight for arson, Harls? You’d probably get your point across just fine by yelling at her.”

“Can I at least use the giant hammer?”

“Sure, why not,” he says, before downing the rest of his beer.

“God, you are so cool!” Rachel gushes. She’s at least a full bottle of champagne deep at this point. “Can we be best friends?”

“Yes!” Harley agrees. “Ooooh! You should do roller derby with me!”

“Harls, they live in Montana.”

“Where the fuck is Montana?”

“Across the country, Harls. The state we’re in right now, in fact.”

“Oh. Well that sucks.”

The women settle for getting each other’s phone numbers and promising to text each other every single day.

Rick checks his watch once Harley starts losing steam—five minutes to midnight. He nudges her awake and tells her, “C’mon, wake up, you’re gonna miss it.”

She’s wide awake once the countdown starts.

Ten! Nine! Eight!

She quickly stands up and pulls him out the door to the front porch—where they’re surrounded by a blanket of snow.

“Happy New Year!” they hear from inside the house.

Harley rolls up on her toes and pulls him into a kiss. “Happy New Year, baby,” she says, forehead pressed against his.

“Happy New Year, Harls.”

They share another kiss as the snow starts falling again.

[tyfinn]

New Year's Kiss(es)

A little something to close out 2023, and to reach my personal goal of writing 300,000 words in the SC fandom. Read it here.

[kmomof4]

Stupid Questions... (And the Stupid Men Who Ask Them) A New Year’s Fic by @kmomof4

Slipping in one more fic on my most productive writing year yet! @iverna​ @caught-in-the-filter​ and @everything-person​ were discussing an EXTREMELY boneheaded Facebook/Twitter post the other day on the CS Movie Marathon Discord and I decided to write it. I truly hope I did the HYSTERICAL conversation between the ladies justice.

Thank you to @jrob64​ for her beta skills and her guidance on the fic as well as her assurance that the fic really is funny and to @hollyethecurious​ for being a sounding board about what direction to take it in. 

I really hope y’all enjoy and let me know what you think!

Summary: Neal is an idiot and really steps in it. CS gets together. Everyone’s happy.

Rating: T

Words: Almost 2900

Tags: New Years Eve, Neal is Clueless

On ao3

Tagging the usuals. 

@hollyethecurious​ @winterbaby89​ @snowbellewells​ @stahlop​ @resident-of-storybrooke​ @jennjenn615​ @kingofmyheart14​ @wistfulcynic​ @branlovestowrite​ @thisonesatellite​ @ultraluckycatnd​ @flslp87​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ @let-it-raines​ @shireness-says​ @kymbersmith-90​ @darkcolinodonorgasm​ @bethacaciakay​ @searchingwardrobes​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​ @teamhook​ @aprilqueen84​ @qualitycoffeethings​ @superchocovian​ @artistic-writer​ @donteattheappleshook​ @doodlelolly0910​ @seriouslyhooked​ @tiganasummertree​ @lfh1226-linda​ @xsajx​ @klynn-stormz​ @jrob64​ @wefoundloveunderthelight​ @zaharadessert​ @elizabeethan​ @goforlaunchcee​ @gingerpolyglot​ @allons-y-to-hogwarts-713​ @sailtoafarawayland​ @justanother-unluckysoul​ @veryverynotgoodwrites​ @jonesfandomfanatic​ @deckerstarblanche​ @the-darkdragonfly​ @batana54​ @purplehawkcaptain​ @k-leemac​ @motherkatereloyshipper​ @apiratewhopines​ @killiansqueenofthejollyroger​ @onceuponahookandswan​ @meat-pie-with-sauce​ @cosette141​ @pirateprincessofpizza​ @xarandomdreamx​ @fleurdepetite​ @hookmecaptain​ @o-wild-west-wind​

*I am updating my tag list for ‘23, so if you want to remain on my list, or be added, please contact me either here or on discord and let me know.*

Under the cut, unless Tumblr ate it.

                                   Group Chat

                  Killian, David, Robin, Will, Liam,

                                Victor, Neal

N: hey guys. Do girls actually orgasm?

K: 🤨

L: are you kidding?

R: what???!!!

N: seriously hear me out do women actually orgasm? I mean maybe that’s why theres so many unsatisfied women… theyve been taught that they should, but they really cant

K: 🤦😱

D: …

                                      Killian

D: Is he serious? I mean, really?

                                                 K: I’m afraid he is 😳

D: OMG

                                                                                                         Group Chat

                  Killian, David, Robin, Will, Liam,

                                  Victor, Neal

V: I’ve actually wondered that too

N: THANK YOU VICTOR

W: What’d I miss?

😳

Ya might want to consider, lads, that you’re doing it wrong… Pun very much intended

~*~*~

New Year’s Eve

David and Mary Margaret’s farmhouse

“I think I’m gonna ask the ladies,” Neal said, leaning casually against the counter sipping his beer while Killian straightened up the kitchen.

“Ask the ladies what?” he asked.

“From the group chat the other day,” Neal explained.

Killian stopped what he was doing and stared at Neal.

“Are you kidding me? What purpose… WHY would you do that?”

“Who better to ask?” he said, sounding a bit indignant. “I mean, they would know, right?”

Killian rolled his eyes. The idiot was going to get his ass handed to him on a silver platter, and Killian had to admit, he’d enjoy watching it. He’d never liked the man. His general arrogance and superiority complex irritated him to no end. And especially when he was around Emma. To hear Neal talk, you’d think he was the greatest thing that’d ever happened to her and that he’d been the one to break it off with her over a year ago. When actually, Killian and a few others in their group knew that Neal was lousy in bed, so she’d broken it off with him after just a few months. But since she’d never raised an objection to him occasionally coming back around when she’d have the most reason to, he’d decided to keep his mouth shut. The alcohol had been flowing pretty freely all night, but he didn’t think Neal was drunk enough to think that asking this question was really a good idea.

Robin came in then to see Killian putting the rest of the trash in the garbage can, studiously avoiding Neal’s eyes and Neal looking seriously affronted.

“What’s going on, guys?”

“This Einstein wants to ask the ladies what he asked us in the group chat the other day.”

Robin couldn’t stop the bark laugh that burst from him at Killian’s statement. Neal’s face reddened even further.

“It’s your funeral,” Robin snickered and Neal left the kitchen with an angry huff. Robin brought himself under control and smirked at Killian. “This I’ve got to see. Come on, mate.”

The tiny curl of Killian’s mouth made Robin’s grin even wider. They pushed through the doors from the kitchen to the den. Neal had just settled back down in his chair and was looking around the room, obviously waiting for a lull in the various conversations happening. Mary Margaret sat on David’s lap, her arms looped around his neck and was conversing with Liam and his girlfriend, Elsa.

Whale was deep in conversation with Ruby, and Emma and Regina were talking animatedly near the window. Will and Belle were snuggled up in front of the fire.

The ladies by the window came back into the den, drawing everyone’s attention briefly. Neal saw his chance and took it.

“I saw a post on Twitter the other day and wanted to ask you ladies about it,” he said loudly, with a sideways glance at Killian and Robin. It was all Killian could do to not shake his head and roll his eyes at the man. He wondered if he should go pop some popcorn to eat while watching the show about to commence.

“What was it?” Mary Margaret asked. David’s eyes got big and shot over to Killian and Robin. Killian gave a short sharp nod and David shut his eyes in dismay.

“It asked if women really orgasm.” Silence met Neal’s statement.

Killian’s eyes darted around, taking in the expressions on all the different faces in the room. There was incredulity and embarrassment on the faces of the ladies and the men had a mixture of horror and resignation along with a bit of curiosity in Victor’s case.

“Do women really orgasm?” Regina repeated slowly and deliberately, with a roll of her eyes. “Only someone as boneheaded and clueless as you, Neal, would ask that question,” she snarked. Robin moved toward her and wrapped his arm around her waist, nuzzling her neck.

“I tried to tell him, babe.” He placed a kiss on her pulse point, making her shiver. Robin smirked at Neal before continuing. “But he wouldn’t listen.”

Regina turned toward him and wrapped her arms around his neck before turning her face back toward Neal. “I can assure you, women orgasm.”

“But how do you know?” Victor asked. “I mean, the evidence for men is indisputable, but for women, there’s no objective physiological evidence for it.”

“Yeah,” Neal agreed, obviously appreciating the support.

Killian burst out laughing at them, and Liam turned stunned eyes on his college roommate while Elsa’s cheeks flamed.

“Ya wouldn’t know a woman’s pleasure if it knocked you upside the head, mate,” Will shot at Victor over his shoulder.

“Neither would Neal,” Emma murmured under her breath, cutting her eyes toward the man in question and then at Killian. When she spotted him looking at her, her cheeks reddened.

“I knew there had to be a reason Whale was charming someone new every month,” David said. “Nobody would go for it more than once.”

“But maybe he has a point?”

Killian’s neck jerked so hard turning it toward Emma, he was amazed he didn’t pull something. “Swan. SWAN!” he repeated, absolutely horrified. “Do you mean to tell me that you’ve never…”

“No!” she exclaimed. “But… I mean…” she stammered, her cheeks as red as the leather jacket she favored, “just, you know, it’s different when it’s, uh, with a partner. As opposed to… something else. I mean, maybe some women really can’t… you know.”

“Whatever you’ve been told. Whatever you’ve experienced, Swan,” he couldn’t help cutting his eyes over at Neal at that point before meeting her own again, “I can guarantee you is incorrect.” He waggled his eyebrows at her trying to lighten the mood a bit. “And I’d be more than willing and happy to prove it to you anytime you wish.”

“Yeah, I bet you would,” smirked Liam, who was well aware of how his brother felt about Emma.

Regina rolled her eyes. “Surely there’s someone in this town willing to educate these two idiots.”

Ruby smirked and looped her arms around Whale’s neck. “I bet I could teach him a few things,” she purred.

Victor’s face looked absolutely delighted as he wrapped his arms around her waist. “I am yours to command,” he said, earnestly.

“Don’t look at me,” Emma said, hands held up in a ‘stay back’ gesture. “I may be the only unattached female here, but I’ve had my fill of ‘wham, bam, thank you, ma’am.’” She cut her eyes back toward Neal again. “Once was one time too many.”

Neal’s face was so red with embarrassment, it was nearly purple. Killian almost felt sorry for the man being outed like this. But then he thought about Neal’s treatment of Emma and smiled in approval. Before he could make his own smart comment, Neal surged to his feet and bolted for the front door, slamming it shut behind him. Killian thought he heard him muttering something along the lines of doesn’t know what she’s talking about. He could only hope that was the last they’d see of him.

He could see the tension release from Emma’s shoulders as soon as Neal left and he had to admit, he was relieved as well. Everyone else went back to their conversations and Killian approached Emma where she was standing by the Christmas tree.

“Are you alright there, love?”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just ignore him most of the time. But that was…” she trailed away with a shake of her head.

“Have to agree with you,” he said, taking a sip of his water. There was almost an hour before the ball dropped and if he wanted to be able to drive home tonight, it was time to switch.

Emma took a sip of her own and cleared her throat nervously, her eyes darting around the room at all the couples. Following her gaze, he saw several couples he wasn’t sure would make it to the ball drop.

“Some people need to get a room,” she muttered.

Killian snorted into his glass, thankful he’d already swallowed. “They won’t make it much longer, I don’t think,” he assured her.

And sure enough. It wasn’t fifteen minutes later when Ruby and Whale were saying their goodbyes. Robin, Regina, Will, and Belle had all already left.

“Don’t forget brunch tomorrow, Emma,” Ruby said.

Emma raised her eyebrow at her friend. “Uh huh, like I’m the one who’ll have to leave a man in my bed to get there.”

Ruby grinned wolfishly. “I’ll text you if I’m not going to make it.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Emma dismissed. “Have fun. Be safe.”

“Always,” she said with a wink, turning toward the door where Victor was saying goodbye to David, Killian, and Liam.

Elsa shot Emma a look. “That’s not necessarily true, you know.”

“What?” Emma asked.

“That you wouldn’t need to leave a man in your bed to make brunch with Ruby tomorrow.”

“Are you talking about Killian?” she asked. “He wasn’t serious,” she continued, rolling her eyes.

“Are you sure about that, Emma?” Mary Margaret asked. “He has mooned over you forever.”

Elsa nodded in agreement. “It’s obvious to everyone but you, Emma. That man is crazy about you. Why do you think he hasn’t dated since you and Neal broke up?”

Emma looked sheepish, cutting her eyes toward the door and shrugged her shoulders.

“You should go for it, Emma,” Mary Margaret urged her. “He’s made the offer, the ball is in your court. You have to be the one to act. He’s not going to say anymore about it. He’ll wait for you and whatever you’re willing to give.”

Emma looked over at the door again as Killian laughed loudly at something Liam just said. His eyes caught hers and his mirth disappeared as he smiled gently at her. Just that small interaction was enough to send her heart racing. Of course, she’d always been attracted to him. Who wouldn’t be? With his gentleman tendencies, crystal blue eyes, dark brown hair and dark scruff with just a hint of ginger, the man was undeniably gorgeous. And a massive flirt. He’d never given her any indication that he’d be interested in anything more than just one night. And Emma wasn’t willing to risk the friendship she had with him on one night. But what her friends were telling her now was making her head spin. And she didn’t know what she should do about that.

Once Ruby and Victor were gone, the other three couples turned off all the lights, save the TV and Christmas tree, and settled in the den to watch the live coverage of the ball drop. Emma sat next to Killian on the sofa, but wouldn’t let herself get too comfortable with him. His arm was slung across the back of the sofa and it was incredibly tempting to snuggle into his side and let him wrap his arm around her shoulder. But given her vacillation on the pertinent question, she didn’t want to send mixed signals. And what if she was right and he really wasn’t serious? She didn’t think she’d be able to stand it if she succumbed to temptation and he rejected her. As midnight approached, her nerves increased.

Emma turned slightly to look at Elsa. Bathed in the light from the fire, she couldn’t see her friend’s expression very well, but she gave Emma a slight nod and smile of encouragement. Emma smiled back and turned to look at Killian. The darkness of the room wrapped itself around them until Emma was aware of nothing but Killian looking right back at her. Emma caught her breath at what she saw in his eyes. Desire, devotion, love. She could hear the countdown from the flatscreen in the background, but it was nothing more than an unimportant nuisance to what was happening between her and Killian.

Before she could second guess herself, she moved toward him and brushed her lips against his.

That was all it took. It was like a dam broke. He wrapped his arms around her and drew her back to him, capturing her lips with his. His hands plunged into her hair, as he requested entrance with his tongue.

 Emma moaned at the back of her throat as she eagerly granted his request. He pillaged and plundered like a pirate of old and Emma felt a shiver of pleasure cascade down her spine. She gasped as his arms tightened around her, her breasts flattening against the hard planes of his chest.

Pulling back with a soft whimper of disappointment, she gazed into his eyes. They were blown with arousal and she could feel his hardened length against her hip where she all but laid across his torso.

“You know,” he whispered, “I’ve heard it said that whatever you’re doing at midnight on New Years, is what you can expect for the coming year. Or something along those lines anyway.”

“Hmmm,” she replied. “You know, I’ve heard that too.” Emma couldn’t miss the white of his teeth as he grinned widely at her statement. She responded in kind. “So are you ok with that? With this? Us?”

His arms tightened around her and he bent down and kissed the end of her nose. Emma didn’t think anyone had ever done anything that cute to her before and it made her grin even wider.

“I am very much ok with it, Swan. As long as you are.”

“I am.” She looked around the room at the other couples, still caught up in their own embraces, feeling her cheeks heat. “You want to get out of here?” She caught her bottom lip between her teeth as she looked at him. He squeezed her hip slightly and released a quiet groan at her question.

Emma jumped up from the sofa, Killian following her, drawing the attention of everyone else.

“This was fun, M’s,” she gushed. If she wasn’t so flustered, she’d likely laugh at the lustful haze and bewildered look on David and Mary Margaret’s faces at being interrupted.

“Huh?” she asked, shaking her head, trying to put her hostess hat back on. “Oh, right! Thanks for coming,” she exclaimed, standing and pulling Emma into a tight embrace.

David, Liam, and Elsa also rose, David holding his hand out to shake. “Thanks for coming, guys.” He was more collected than Mary Margaret and gave Killian a significant look. Liam, too, raised his eyebrows at Killian, noticing how closely he stood to Emma, his hand resting lightly on her waist.

“Is this what I think it is,” Liam asked softly, where the ladies wouldn’t hear.

Killian’s cheeks flamed and he had to struggle not to scratch at the place behind his ear that always itched when he was nervous or embarrassed.

“Yes, brother. And you have my assurance,” he continued, glancing at David, “I won’t do anything to hurt her. I’m in this for the long haul.”

David put his hand on Killian’s shoulder. “Good. It’s about damn time.”

“Agreed,” Liam said.

Everyone took their leave, and Killian escorted Emma back to her apartment where he proceeded to show her, in exquisite detail and for many hours, just how in this for the long haul he was.

~*~*~

January 3

Granny’s Diner

Emma made her way into Granny’s to finally meet up with Ruby for their annual New Years Brunch. It had been postponed and postponed again when they both couldn’t be bothered to leave their respective men to meet up.

Ruby’s grin was wide and wolfish as she sat down.

“A little sore are we?” she asked.

Emma licked her lips nervously. “Maybe just a little.”

Ruby howled. “I always knew Jones would be good in the sack.” She leaned forward eagerly. “How many times? Not total, but the first night.”

Emma bit her lip before replying. “Four.”

Ruby threw her head back as she laughed. She got herself under control, her eyes twinkling. “It was a little slow going at first, but Victor’s a quick study. He’ll be fine.” Ruby’s grin was all teeth and Emma grinned back before her attention was drawn to the back of the diner, where Neal rose from his seat, violently throwing his fork down on the table and bolting for the door. His face was thunderous and it wasn’t hard to figure out that he’d overheard their conversation.

Emma rolled her eyes as Ruby giggled.

“Stupid men…” she said before joining Ruby in joyous laughter, expressing all the happiness in her heart for the new year before them.

~*~*~

Happy New Year, everyone!! Thank you for reading and sharing! I’d love to know what you think!

[bluebellhairpin]

A/N: This is all me. I'm shipping you with me, but also I'm married to Erwin. But we could kiss if you wanted us to. (I have no idea what this is but its over 3k long and I put my heart and soul into it, and I just wanted it posted as soon as I could because I love it THAT MUCH.) - Nemo

Summary: Somehow you - a nobody college student- have found yourself invited to the most prestigious New Years parties in the country, and the hostess takes a liking to you.

Warnings: Some bitchy guests and a cry in the bathroom.

Masterlist || art <3

Invitations to the Smith’s New Years Parties were unspeakably converted. 

Getting an invitation was like getting a ticket to the Wonka factory. Everyone was jealous, but some respect was given to you because you’d done something worth being invited to the Smiths. Them being the most prestigious and known couple in the whole city - sweethearts by any name and with enough combined wealth to have their generosity make a difference - everyone loved them.

Everyone wanted to be them. Or be with them. 

Erwin - the husband whose charisma left anyones knees weak, and a quick thinking mind that never had him clutching at straws for what to say. He was surely his parents pride and joy, handsomely picturesque and with a kind smile to boot. 

His wife, though, was more than just a pretty face to hang off his accomplishments. She was truly the heart and soul of their kindness. Erwin wasn’t half as ready to spend a few ten thousand dollars on charities every few months, but his wife? She threw cash around to those who needed it as much as she could. And he’d let her, he’d do anything for her. 

She had him wrapped around her little finger like a teenage fool in love - even though they’d been married for close to ten years - and anyone could tell she was just as head over heels for him too. 

The Smith’s never held parties at their home - parties were to meet new acquaintances, the home was where you had friends - and each New Years Eve celebration was at someplace new. Someplace glamorous and glittering like the stars, photos of it splashed over social media the next day. Last year it was at a garden near a lake - further out from the city and done up like some storybook wonderland. 

And they never went to the same place twice.

You’d been dropped off in front of the building by a cab - a sprawling red carpet lined the footpath up to where the doorman stood by a revolving door.

You could see people chatting inside the foyer - all dressed to the nines. One had a glittering yellow dress with her hair done back in intricate braids and a man on each arm who were decked out with just as much glamour - one in red with a thick mane of hair, the other in orange with a blond undercut. They looked like they’d been before. 

Remembering how you’d started looking for an outfit as soon as the gold envelope came through your mail, and how you’d looked at yourself in the mirror thinking you looked really nice. Even your roommate said you looked the part. Simple, and the earrings really pulled it all together, you’d thought. Thinking now, though, maybe at least you shouldn’t have found your clothes at a second-hand store. 

Gripping your clutch, you approached the doorman - a little unsure about what to do. He smiled kindly, and you offered a shy one in return and fished out your invitation. He instantly recognised it with a nod and instructed you to take an elevator to the eleventh floor. 

And if you were feeling intimidated in the foyer - simply passing everyone by to get to the lift that would take you to the party - it was nothing compared to how you felt stepping out of the elevator. 

You looked to your left and knew exactly where you were supposed to go. 

A huge dining room lay beyond two propped-open glass doors. Twinkling lights of gold and yellow lined the ceiling, and round tables were decked out with fancy dinner sets and cheese boards of food. Across the far wall was glass, and a balcony looking across the cityscape - perfect for firework viewing, even if you stayed indoors. Another wall had a stage with a wooden floor in front of it, where a band had been put together and was currently playing upbeat jazz, while the opposite wall across the tables was more food - and no doubt the kitchen. 

You could tell - while it was a big room, and probably wouldn’t be chocked full of people - that only about half the guests had even arrived yet and it was only just past 9pm. 

You worried momentarily that you’d have trouble finding a seat, but a table plan came into view as you walked through the doors. Finding your name, you felt your palms get sweaty. Surely these were randomly assigned - why else would you not only be sitting on their table, but also right next to Mrs Smith herself? 

You felt a great need to sit - anywhere at all really - because of a wave of lightheadedness, but luckily your table was close by, near the centre of the room. Of course it was. 

Once seated, a waiter passed by with a tray of various drinks. You picked one and gulped down half its contents in one go - to cool your insides down more than anything else. A cheerful eruption of greeting had you turn your direction back to the balcony - and there they were, enthusiastically greeting the trio you saw below in the foyer. 

Erwin stood with an arm around his wife. He was in a deep gold three piece suit with the top three buttons of his dress shirt undone. He looked like he’d stepped off one of those business magazines you’d see in a corner store display. His wife looked just as photo-worthy. 

Her hair was styled back and her dress had a red velvet corset with a flowy silk skirt - a slit up one side with shining silver stones around her neck and wrist, and a shimmer of more around her exposed thigh. 

They were, admittedly, less flashy than some of their guests, but it was obvious that they held the attention of those around them as they greeted everyone with shaken hands and kissed cheeks.

As the minutes ticked by and they greeted more guests, you started noticing things. 

You’d never been so close to them before - mostly seen on social media clips or tabloid news - but they kept sending looks to each other back and forth. Softer, or harsher, knowing and less so - all depending on who they were talking to. Something about it made you think they were telepathically linked - after so long together people would start to think the same way. 

You didn’t know at that point in the night, but it meant they weren’t as kind as they looked. 

It meant Mr and Mrs Smith could be cruel, and mean, and they could shun whoever they wanted - and with how everyone liked them, and how powerful they were, meant they could get away with it. It meant everyone would follow.

Socialites were like that - people came and went just like trends, no matter how big your impact is. But the ones that stayed, by some soul-selling miracle, stayed for good. And those that stayed had the biggest say in who else was able to stay too.

Luckily, more often than not, the Smith’s kindness outweighed their darker side. And luckily, others in their circle were more than content following. 

Bottom line; whatever they say goes. 

The night went on, and eventually - despite your inner turmoil about how you should go and approach them yourself - the couple made their way to your joined table. By now they’d begun nursing drink glasses of their own, and an arm reached beside you to place a champagne flute down.

Then a silk red dress slid into the seat next to yours. 

“Hi,” she said, and you had trouble meeting her eyes, “You must be -”

You blurted out your name before she could continue, sticking your hand out to shake. She took it, wrapping her fingers around your palm and shaking slowly. 

“Nice to meet you, officially. I’m really glad you were able to make it tonight.” she softly said, letting go of your hand and grabbing her glass again as she got comfortable in her seat. “I was a little worried you’d get scared.”

You met her eyes for a moment - some shade of brown, or honey, maybe green? - then turned to the platter of food, distracting yourself by choosing a grape. 

“Why would I do that?” 

“Most college students we invite don't even RSVP.” You gawked a little at that.

“How’d you know I was in college?” 

“We try to invite a variety of people to our parties,” she said as if you hadn’t noticed - which you hadn’t. “We request looks at the more promising non-scholarship students in a few colleges - there's a lot of job openings that can come from simply meeting people - so we give them a chance to get their feelers out on some more upper-class opportunities.”

She leaned forward on her elbows, trying to meet your eyes. When you did, she smiled - there you are, they said. 

“Not everyone needs scholarships, what they need is a chance to prove themselves to the right people.” You knew she wasn't necessarily wrong. 

You still would’ve liked a scholarship though. 

“So don’t drink too much, and go say hi to some people.” she said, leaning a little closer to give a reassuring pat on your shoulder. “If you need anything, come interrupt me. I’d love an excuse to get away from some of the people here.” She turned away from you with a wink, giving her attention back to her husband - who you noticed as he did you, and raised his glass in brief greeting. 

You looked around the room - indeed there were a few people here you recognized - there were people who matched with both your major and interests. If only you didn’t feel so much like you were thrust into the deep end of a swimming pool with no floaters on.

It was ten minutes until midnight. 

So far, you've done better than you’d thought you would’ve when it comes to introducing yourself. Quite a few people were rather friendly, and the ones who were less so still had made conversations short and sweet. Though one thing had been bothering you most the night. 

You’d guess from their age, and how they all lingered together that they were college students like you - invited for their promise in whatever major they studied - but unlike the two or so students you had met, they stuck out like sore thumbs. 

You did too, in a dull kind of way, but they did in a way that was worse. Like the gaggle of popular girls at prom who were spoiled and entitled and did themselves up too much. Or like they didn’t belong because they snuck in. 

They kept looking around the room, giggling and pointing and talking behind their hands. Surely more than just you had noticed how clique-y they were being. Most gossip was pointed at other guests - as if any self-respecting person would dare to do that to the Smith’s guests - but as you walked past their table back towards your seat, you heard them talking about you. 

“Look at their fit, it belongs in a dumpster.”

“Been busy kissing ass all evening, hope they know a New Years kiss is meant to be on the lips.” 

How had they even been let in, you wondered, as you tried to ignore them. You looked fine, and you were doing what you were told to do. They arrived after you, and you knew that they hadn’t been given the attention or time of Mrs Smith like you had. 

You were sitting on the Smith table, you reminded yourself, they weren’t. 

But somehow that only made you feel worse. 

Most of the guests were inside the dining hall or out on the balcony, leaving the foyer sparse - you hopped the bathroom would be empty. Because you were washed with a wave of sadness - you should be in bed, you shouldn’t be here. You didn’t fit in here. You needed a little cry as the clock struck midnight. 

The bathroom was just as fancy as the rest of the building, but you didn’t think about that too much as you ripped some paper towel from around near the sinks, and practically fell on one of the ottomans. You heard the door Swing open behind you and tried to fix yourself enough for whoever it was to pass by without asking anything. 

But then they sat down behind you, and a hand brushed your shoulder before running away again. 

“What happened?” Of course it was her - someone ran from her party crying, she’d need to know what to fix so it wouldn’t happen again.

“It’s nothing.” She leaned back on one hand, sitting far enough away not to push the subject, but close enough to know she wanted to know. You sighed. 

“I don’t really fit here.” you mumbled, picking at the paper in your hand. “It’s nice, and it looks really pretty, and I do really like it here, but it’s… I’m not…”

“It’s intimidating, I know.” she said, quietly nodding. For once, when you looked up at her, she wasn’t looking at you first. “It took Erwin half of our marriage for him to stop having to convince me to come to these parties - and they’re mostly my idea.” 

She looked at you, and crossed one leg over the other. 

“I know how you feel. I swear it.” She said, “And I also know that you’re very brave. I didn’t last half as long as you have at my first New Years party, and you don’t even have a husband to hide behind.” She tapped her fingers against the fabric of the seat, and you had half a mind to believe what she said - that someone so at ease now used to be as skittish and unsure as you. 

“Thank you.” you breathed, feeling a little better, and using the paper to wipe away your ruined make-up. She watched as you composed yourself, smoothing down the front of your clothes and fixing your hair a little. You stood near one of the large mirrors, feeling a little overwhelmed still. 

Her nose scrunched, and she tutted as she shook her head. 

“Here,” she said, turning and reaching behind her neck, unclasping her necklace, “Try this on. Sometimes you need something flashy to hide behind.” 

“Oh no, I -” But despite your protests she ignored you and pulled the shining crystals across your neck. They were still warm from where they once were on her. Shining against your skin, and you had to admit they looked even better when they were this close.

“They look like part of that Cartier necklace from the movie.” Your comment made her let out a breathy laugh.

“This is Swarovski, actually. Quite different.” She said, adjusting the gems so they sat flat. “They suit you.” 

“I can’t wear it.” you protested. She shook her head, standing behind you in the mirror. 

“You can keep it.” she said, insistent and stubborn, “It suits you. We’re supposed to all look fabulous in crystals - but I look better wearing pearls, you’d be doing me a favour.” Of course you would be. 

You reached a hand up to graze the crystals - they did suit you, and somehow matched your outfit down to your earrings. You looked back at her, still stunning even without a centrepiece of her jewellery. 

“What about you?” She raised an eye. What about me? ”You don’t have one anymore.” You explained, fiddling with one of the gems resting on your collarbone. She smiled, a smug cheekiness reached her eyes.

“It won’t matter, my husband will be quick to remedy the situation if it does.” 

She’d let you through the door first, after you’d finished making yourself properly presentable again. What superied you - more than the rest of what had happened so far tonight - was how easily her hand slipped through to rest in the crook of your elbow. You found yourself not minding as much as you probably should have. 

It was like she belonged there. 

You could see in the eyes of the guests as you walked back into the room. They took you both in and waves passed over their faces. 

It wasn’t pity or shock as they registered the fact you now had a necklace, and that she was missing hers. It was recognition, and for some certain ones - ones who knew they’d made some awful mistake in making you feel bad - dread. 

It told everyone that you had someone watching your back - someone they didn’t want to have to find themselves facing if they were to try and get to you. It told you that you were going to be okay, that you had a friend - one that could be the best one to have on a night like this.

It helped you. Made you feel a little more important. A little more pretty. You guessed, from what she said, that half of belonging was looking the part. 

The necklace wasn’t diamonds - they were crystals - but on the neck of someone so important it didn’t matter what they weren’t. It mattered what they looked like, what everyone would assume they would be. 

No one would look twice at a string of gems on the neck of Mrs Smith, thinking they weren’t the Best. No one would look at you wearing her necklace thinking they were fake either.

She was right in saying that what you needed was something flashy to hide behind.

As the timer changed from minutes until seconds, you found yourself in a pleasant position. One you would’ve never guessed you’d be in. Ever. 

You were still in the dining room - technically - but the windows separating it from the balcony had been pulled back and bunched together so you couldn’t tell when it started or stopped. A cool breeze cut through the room, diminishing the stuffy atmosphere and making way for a clean slate - a fresh start to a midnight new year. 

Five. 

Mrs Smith still had her fingers curled around your arm, but she’d latched onto Erwin on her other side. With all the people in the room, standing and sitting and dancing, you fit right by their side like a always-been-there friend. Like you belonged there. 

Four. 

You looked across at the groups of people, eyes catching on the same trio from before readying themselves for kisses and cheers. Them and others preparing to welcome a new start with every stereotype imaginable under the sun. 

Three. 

You watched Erwin lean down to whisper into his wife’s ear, she reflexively gripped you tighter as she giggled at his unknown words. You smiled even though you didn’t know what it was about, because it felt like the right thing to do.

Two.

2023 would come to an end with a cheer and flash of lights. With kisses and new beginnings. You knew, deep down, that this would be a better year. For the first time in a long time you felt that this year would be better.

One.

[colorsunimaginable]

the spare // chapter sixty-eight // death eater ! tom hiddleston oc x plus size ofc - voldemort wins au

story summary: 

While on a mission to avenge the death of her best friend, Ilvermorny graduate Melisa Alder finds herself in the middle of the fight to defeat Voldemort. Upon capture after the Dark Lord's triumph, she's being sold at an auction with other muggle borns and blood traitors. Her only hope is also her only bidder - the tall, dark, and handsome Thomus Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy's younger half-brother. Is he just another Death Eater or is he hiding more than just his face beneath the mask? Will she realize her true potential to be one of the resistance's greatest weapons?

*a Voldemort Wins AU with Tom Hiddleston cast as an OC x a plus size protagonist* *takes place in The Auction universe by Lovesbitca8*

words for this fic: 6.7k warnings for this chapter: p in v, fingering, dirty talk

a million boops to my beta reader banners by @cafekitsune

CHAPTER MASTERLIST

Chapter Sixty-Eight:

Cliveden’s gardens at night in the winter are beautiful. They’re vast and eerily empty, though that could just be the stillness of the night. Victorian lamp posts light the way and with the gently falling snow, kinda gives me Narnia vibes.

 I wander around, careful to stick to the crunchy gravel paths and keep the main house in sight. This isn’t the first time I’ve had such an opportunity for escape. Yeah, I could Apparate anywhere, but why? Now that a plan will be in place, what’s the point? It’s exactly what I wanted. 

Movement draws my eye and I catch Diana’s head above the shrubbery, heading in my direction. I’m not ready to go inside yet, so I sit on a nearby bench and wait for her to join me.

“Did they send you to make sure I was still here?” I ask, mostly teasing.

“Kyle did,” she admits as she sits next to me. She’s all bundled up in a stylish thick wool coat while I’m just fine in my Ilvermorny sweater and Thomus’ scarf. “But that’s alright, I’d much rather talk to you.”

Instantly my guard's up. “About what?”

She hesitates for a moment, but I give her my best encouraging expression, despite my raging nerves. 

“Well, I wanted to ask how you feel about Thomus.”

I blink, my eyebrows shooting up. “Oh, um, well, I -”

“It’s just that Jake seems to think you genuinely care about him because of how adamant you are about his safety,” she says. “Now that I’ve met you and I’ve seen you two together, I think he’s right, but I wonder if it’s more than that.”

I think about my answer for a few moments, but respond with a question instead. “Is this because you two used to date?”

She immediately shakes her head and chuckles. “Definitely not. It didn’t last longer than a month or two and it was a long time ago.”

“Did-did he break up with you?” I ask with some hesitation.

“I dumped him actually,” she says. “He just… When we hung out or went on dates, his mind always seemed like it was elsewhere.  The only time he seemed fully present and invested was when we…” she trails off. 

“When what?” I prompt.

She gives me a sheepish expression. “Sorry, it might be a bit TMI.”

I shrug and shake my head. “Don’t worry. There’s no such thing as TMI for me. I need everything.” Even if that information guts me. I’d always rather know.

“When we were sleeping together,” she says all in one breath.

I don’t say anything, waiting to hear more. “Oh, is that it?”

Her eyebrows tilt up in sympathy. “I suppose if I were in your situation I wouldn’t want to hear about it.”

“Yeah,” I say, looking down. “I can see that. Do you know what he was so focused on?”

“Well, I know his mother had passed away a few months before and then there was… her .”

“Bellatrix,” I sigh knowingly.

“He visited her every couple weeks - no matter what. I didn’t even know he was still going after we started dating. When I confronted him, he insisted there was nothing physical going on between them, but I… had my doubts. He told me he stopped going after that, but I know he went back after it ended,” she explains. “Does he still see her often?”

“I… have no idea honestly.”

“Have you not asked?”

I shake my head. “Why would I?”

“Because you two are…” she sighs. “It’s complicated, I know.”

“There’s a massive power imbalance between us and I’m not going to let myself forget that, regardless of how I feel.”

“What about how he feels?” she asks gently.

“If anything he feels is real, then why am I still his prisoner?” I answer a little too quickly. “He doesn’t see me as his equal. I don’t want to belong to him like I’m some kind of possession. I want a partner willing to rely on me as I want to rely on them in return. How can anyone be devoted to an object?” I finish by inhaling sharply, having taken short breaths during my lament. 

Her lips press together as she regards me with a cautious look. “The world has really changed since Harry Potter died,” she says. “No one is doing well - especially muggleborns. No one has been able to fly under the radar since they started implementing some kind of forced registry.” She pauses and then chuckles. “And you would not be able to go unnoticed.”

I sigh. “It’s the hair isn’t it?”

“Actually, no,” she says. “You’d be surprised how popular some of these articles about you have been.”

Now this, I’m taken aback. "Articles? As in more than one?"

"I'm afraid so. The best one is from the New York Ghost , but Witch Weekly's was pretty nice. Does someone have it out for you at The Daily Prophet , by any chance?"

"Probably Rita Skeeter," I grumble. I want to know what they've been saying about me. "Though I'm surprised I was interesting enough for one article, let alone multiple."

"I disagree," she says. "I think what you're doing is very brave. You haven't given up despite all these odds stacked against you. Honestly, I was really excited to meet you when I heard you were coming."

I blush, laughing awkwardly. "I, um, I'm sorry, I definitely had no idea you existed until tonight. Thank you for inviting me to that thing on New Years Eve, even though I can't go. It reminded me of what being normal was like."

"No problem!" she smiles. "I would've been glad to have you. You’re super cool and totally normal.” She winks at me and quietly laughs to herself. “But seriously, you should consider thinking that he might just want to keep you safe, where he can protect you.”

“But I can protect myself ,” I gently protest. “It’s because I’ve been under his ‘care’ that I’ve been vulnerable! He has to realize that.”

Her eyes soften with sympathy. “I think he does, because there was one weekend Jake told me about. He’d just met you and Thomus in Edinburgh and you’d been… assaulted while they’d all just been standing there, unknowing. He said he’d never seen Thomus be that violent before - violent without using magic that is.”

I stare at her eye-wided, enthralled with this story. This change in perspective. 

“And then the next night, there’d been this party Thomus got drunk at and Jake said he could tell something was really bothering him. Apparently, he was really reluctant to talk about it, too.”

I scoff. “I hope he got over himself and opened up so you can share this information with me now.”

“Yeah, so he finally said he blamed himself for being an idiot and not paying better attention. Like, it really hit him that your safety was in his hands.”

I… don’t know what I’m allowed to feel. My heart wants to swoon and my mind wants to roll its eyes. Except, if he’s not as terrible as I thought, am I allowed to hope? 

“I think I remember when he came home,” I admit. “We continued drinking and he asked me how I felt - which was very new for us at the time.”

Diana smiles ruefully. “Does he get points for trying, at least?”

“We’ll see,” I say. “I’m definitely nervous that it could all just be a… fling to him.”

Diana startles me by releasing a loud cackle.

“A fling?!” she bellows, struggling to catch her breath. “Oh honey, you’re delusional.”

“What? No!” I protest. “I’m being realistic.”

“Oh Lady Morgana,” she says, wiping tears from her eyes and standing. “Come on, let’s go inside before my fingers fall off.”

~*~

By the early hours of the morning, I’m utterly exhausted. 

Kyle had changed his mind and decided to tell me his roughly outlined plan. It’s not terrible, but luckily the rough bits still have time to be hammered out. I should have plenty of notice before I have to leave, plenty of time for contingencies.

Thomus is out like a light, still snoring softly, when I return. I try to be as quiet as possible as I strip down to my undies and crawl into the massive four-poster bed with him. 

It must not be massive enough, though, because just me softly rolling into position beneath the covers is enough to rouse a few sleepy words from him.

“Darling?” he rasps and I feel his hands reach for me in the dark.

“Hi,” I whisper. “Sorry I woke you.”

He hums and pulls himself closer, resting his head on my chest. “How did we get back to the cottage?” he says sleepily, curling himself against me.

“We didn’t,” I say, running a hand through his hair and the other over his shoulders. “We’re still at Cliveden.”

“Hm, I don’t remember getting here.”

His tone isn’t setting off any alarm bells. It’s low and gravelly, like he’s not entirely awake yet.  He’s just mindlessly chatting and I just have to be casual.

“Well, you were very drunk,” I say. “You passed out playing Exploding Snap. Jake had to levitate you up here.”

His arm around my waist tightens, pulling me tighter against him. “You didn’t leave.”

I don’t say anything, panic instantly spiking my heart rate, and I hope he’s not awake enough to pay attention.

“You could have, but you didn’t,” he continues. “Not that I’d blame you if you did.”

I stay silent, trying to convince myself that his calm demeanor is because whatever he’s talking about, couldn’t be about the drama of the night. There's no way he was awake enough to hear what we said. 

“No,” I murmur. “I didn’t.”

“What room did he put us in?” he murmurs.

I let out a sudden strained laugh. “You’d never guess.”

~*~

On New Year’s Eve, Thomus leaves again. He says it’s to finish last minute tasks for the Gala and whatnot and I feel… depressed… again. I’m mostly uninterested in eating - I ate a bologna and cheese sandwich for dinner. I’m not in the mood to read, listen to music or watch any movies, but I’ve had The Nanny on all day - just to make the house less quiet.

So I just go to bed at the blessed hour of 8pm. 

I’ve barely been in bed for longer than fifteen minutes when the easily recognizable sound of the Floo roaring to life drifts up the stairs. I’ve sat up by the time Thomus finds me.

“In bed already?” he asks, surprised. “On New Year's Eve?”

I shrug, holding the blanket up to my naked chest. “It’s not the easiest holiday to spend by yourself.”

Thomus sits on the edge of the bed, swiftly leaning in to kiss my cheek. “And I don’t intend for you to, I agree completely.” He jumps up, taking long strides through the bathroom to my room, where I hear him opening the wardrobe. I sigh, scooting to the edge to throw my legs over it. It’s just my luck I was already in bed.

“A little warning might have been nice,” I say when he returns, arm cradling a black hoodie and black leggings. 

He takes one look at me and the next moment he’s tossing my clothes on the bed and crowding into my space. His large hands cradle my head as he braces me for his lips on mine. He leans in and I have to prop my arms behind me so we don’t fall backward. Of course this causes the blanket to fall and his hand swoops down to cup and grope my chest, the attention causing my nipples to harden. 

His kisses take my breath away and my thighs are quick to part for him. His hips slide right into the space provided, grinding his hard-on against me. My kisses slacken because all of my attention goes right to my throbbing clit and I desperately whimper.  

His hips rock against me one more time before he pulls away, both of us breathless. His eyes trail down my body as he speaks. “We don’t have much time,” he says. “I will have to savor you later.”

When he steps completely away from me, I’m left cold, so I quickly slide on the oversized hoodie as he adjusts himself in his pants.

“Savor me?” I ask when I stand, stepping into the pants one leg at a time.

He chuckles, watching me wiggle the waistband up over my hips and stomach. “I thought it was a bit more romantic than fuck.”

Ping . There goes the tiniest fracture in my heart for him. I scramble for something clever or funny to say. 

“I suppose it could’ve been worse,” I say, popping in a British accent for the last word. “You could’ve said shag .”

“Cute,” he smirks.

I follow him downstairs, sliding on my socks before I stop at the door for my sneakers and turn for the fireplace.

He clicks his tongue. “Not that way.”

I narrow my eyes and follow him out the door. He takes me to the spot beyond the fence and touches the tattoo before Apparating us to the Manor. The front gates are open and he swiftly takes hold of my tattoo again to get me over the barrier. 

We walk down the entrance path, under gilded arches and golden fairy lights crossing overhead from the tall hedges. Holding my hand, he pulls me around the building along the back toward a door being held open by an elf.

“Miss,” Remmy says to me in a disinterested greeting and drops his voice to a whisper. “Master Thomus, Mistress expects you in fifteen minutes. Master isn’t even dressed -”

“Don’t worry, Remmy, I will be there,” Thomus reassures them as we pass. “Mums the word about Miss Alder, remember?”

“Yes, yes, Remmy remembers,” the elf dismisses. 

Thomus leads me to his room, making sure to use hallways noticeably absent of chatty portraits. A familiar route because of the many times I'd avoided them myself. The moment we’re in his room, he heads for the bathroom, already stripping. There’s a black robed suit hanging from a hook on the door. 

“Please tell me you're not gonna surprise me with a ball gown, are you?” I ask, hopping up onto the bed and toeing my shoes off. 

“I value my neck, thanks,” he remarks, pulling on first his suit pants, then the black button up shirt. “Would you grab me a pair of cufflinks from the closet?”

“Does it matter which one?” I ask, knowing he's got a variety. 

“No.”

By the time I emerge from the closet, elegant silver M stamped cufflinks in hand, he’s already dressed. He smiles at me as I pass him the tiny pieces of metal. 

“All you have to do is wait for a few hours,” he says, his mood curiously… cheerful? “Go back to sleep if you'd like - just don't leave this room. Only Remmy knows you're here.” 

“Why all the fuss?” I ask, my eyes greedily taking his suited form in. I suppress the desire to pull him close by his silk tie for a kiss. He looks too suave and sophisticated and… way out of my league.

“For the simple reason that I don’t want certain guests to know you’re here,” he explains, stepping into the bathroom once again. I hear him spritz a bottle of something.

“And why is that again?” 

He glides out of the bathroom, passing me by with a quick peck to my cheek. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”

I completely ignore the fact he didn’t answer my question, because I’m way too distracted by his suddenly fragrant cologne. I breathe in lung-fulls of cedar and pine, trying not to swoon in his wake as he pulls out his wand to light the fireplace. 

Then he’s gone, the door audibly locking behind him.

~*~

Well, I definitely try to sleep. Except I wasn’t even tired when I climbed into bed the first time.

First I change into a purple wispy nightgown with a deep vee in the neck that stops at my thighs. Then I change out of it when the frills around the short sleeves become too itchy under the covers, opting instead for a simpler one with long sleeves and a hem that falls around my ankles. 

All this, just to be uncomfortable in every position I try. Nevermind the fact my mind keeps doing laps of worrying, wondering who exactly Thomus doesn’t want to know I’m here. Rodolphus? Bellatrix? Is he dancing and flirting with her while her husband tracks me down this very moment? 

Finally I give up and decide to grab a handful of Thomus’ old Daily Prophets and settle on the cushioned bench in the alcove of one of his windows. I sit sideways on it, my back against the wall with the door in my line of sight. 

I’m about to cast a subtle illumination spell to help my poor eyesight in this dim lighting when movement out the window catches my eye. It’s the curtains billowing out of the open doors to the ball room - or the large drawing room as Narcissa calls it. Golden light spills from windows and the doorway  as the guests' shadows and silhouettes move within. Some are moving swiftly as if dancing while some are mingling. Before I can think better of it, I’m pushing open the French window closest to me.

I hear boisterous laughter and the low hum of chatter, and best of all, music drifts up to me like a leaf in the breeze. It’s the exact kind of music I’d imagine would play at a ball like this, and I can’t help but picture myself down there, in some pretty dress twirling around the room with Thomus.

I sit there, content to listen to the string quartet and people watch. Some come outside for the cool air, others to have a private word alone with each other. 

Hermione is relatively easy to spot. Her black gown is ridiculously puffy around the skirt, but synched skin-tight in the bodice, and even from here I can see the jewels glittering on her chest. I’m surprised to see Draco by her side, dressed head to toe in white. They linger by the door, always surrounded by ladies vying for his attention. I can’t help but notice how his hand slowly caresses her back, almost… lovingly from her waist up to her shoulders and nape when he thinks no one is watching.

Thankfully, I don’t see Bellatrix, but I also don’t see Thomus, either. An inconsequential fact I try not to linger on.

I don’t know how long I sit like that, but eventually Thomus returns, quietly stepping into the room with two empty champagne glasses and a bottle.

“I kinda feel like Cinderella wanting to go to the ball,” I say softly as he approaches. He looks politely puzzled and before he can ask, I explain, “It’s just a No-Maj fairytale.”

“Ah,” he hums. He takes hold of the forgotten newspapers on the other side of the bench and raises an eyebrow.

I feel a blush creep up my throat and try to keep my tone nonchalant. “I… maybe like to read your articles,” I say. “It’s crazy to think we both spent time at The Daily Prophet , but at different times so we never ran into each other.”

I feel like I’m rambling, but how could I not? He looks and smells far too dashing for me to think clearly. 

“It is a bit ironic,” he says, replacing his papers where I’d gotten them from before returning. He takes up the rest of the bench, his back to the window, and places the glasses and bottle on the floor next to him.

“Do you think things might’ve been different if we’d met there instead?” I ask hesitantly, knowing all too well his opinions on ‘what if’s. “Before?”

Thomus sighs heavily and the air puffs out his cheeks. He raises an eyebrow and gives me a sideways look. “Honestly?”

I nod. “Yeah, always.”

“Hm, I think…” his mouth downturns as he speaks, his voice betraying his amusement. “I’d find you the most annoying person on the planet.”

A disbelieving laugh bursts out. “What?!”

He nods, completely solemn. “Oh yeah, always asking questions, always bothering me.”

“Oh no, I’d have to talk to you about our job ,” I say with dramatic sarcasm, trying and failing to keep the smile off my face. “Oh no, what a nightmare.”

Thomus grabs my ankle, lifting my foot so he can shift closer, until my calf rests on his opposite thigh. That hand slides from my ankle all the way up my leg, and I’m disappointed it’s not under my nightgown. “It would have been an absolute nightmare to have you prance into my office every bloody day,” he continues as his fingers meet the crease at my hip and wedge themselves in. Then they keep traveling and grip all the plentiful flesh there. “I’d never be able to get any work done because I’d constantly be thinking about bending you over my desk.”

My eyes run laps over the sharp lines of his face, trying to determine if he’s serious. “Is that so?”

Thomus’ eyes drop to my mouth, his free hand brings his thumb to brush my lower lip. “These would be the worst. With every meddlesome question you ask, I’d only be able to think about how they’d taste.”

I’m holding my breath - my heart thudding, my ears burning. I’m suddenly very unnecessarily conscious of how far my glasses have slipped down my nose, the cool breeze from the window across my chest, and how heavy I’m breathing over his thumb. And for some reason his accent is doing funny things to my insides right now, of all times. 

His voice is low, husky, and oh, so hot. “I’d be thinking about how you’d sound when I touched you. And yes, I say when . I could only endure such torture for so long before I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off you.”

I snort, a disbelieving smile breaking out under his thumb. “You make me sound like some kind of irresistible vixen.” A chuckle rumbles out of his chest, but I keep going. “Well, I have good news for you - I wouldn’t object to any of that.”

“Is that so?” His hand caresses from my jaw to my neck. 

I bite my lip to control my grin. “Well, yeah. Why do you think I’d be bothering you so much in the first place?”

Thomus lets out a breathy chuckle and sits back, his eyes crinkling in the corners. I can only stare, mesmerized by seeing genuine happiness on his face.

“So,” I say brightly. “Are you enjoying this party you put so much effort into preparing?”

His smile fades. “Not as much as I ought to, I suppose.”

“Oh, why not?” I ask, placing my hand over his one on my neck, feeling along the lines of his knuckles and fingers.

“The people down there…” he starts, eyes gazing out the window, “the only thing I’ve ever been to them is a source for gossip and scandal. And then the few who look past all that see the Malfoy name and nothing else.”

I let that process. “So what you’re saying is you’re a real catch?”

He bursts out laughing, the hand from my hip reaching up to scratch his chin. “Yeah, for those desperate to social climb.”

“So you’re a desperately eligible bachelor ?” I tease with a bit more drama to my tone. “How interesting. All the finest debutantes must be lining up down there, so what ever are you doing up here with me?”

“I’m a little old for debutantes.” He settles toward me into a more relaxing position, pulling his knee up and pressing his calf onto the bench under my thighs. With his face closer to mine now, his softly spoken words are loud and clear. “And besides, your company is vastly preferable over theirs.”

My face floods with heat and I crumble under his direct eye contact. My mouth suddenly feels as dry as the desert while I’m forced to figure out some kind of intelligent reply. “Quite shocking, really,” I say, my voice a whisper until I clear my throat, swallowing down some nerves. “Who wouldn’t want to hang out with the wizarding world’s most crankiest?”

He laughs again. “Are you talking about me or them?”

I’m about to answer, but a dull tapping sound coming from the party draws my attention. The guests are returning inside, tapping their wands against their champagne glasses. 

“Ten minutes to midnight,” Thomus explains. “Lucius and Narcissa are about to make their toast.”

I slip my other hand around the one he has at my neck, both of mine cradling it near my chest as I glance at the clock on his mantle. “I guess that means you have to go?”

“Probably,” he admits slowly. “But I’m here.”

“Hold on, speaking of being here, isn’t Draco supposed to be in Switzerland?” I jut in, my eyes easily finding him and Hermione on the edge of the crowd. 

“He is and Lucius is absolutely furious,” he sighs. “I can’t believe he’d be so foolish.”

“Well, it's obvious, right?” I ask, side-eying him, unsure if this is something I could even talk about. “He’s like, really into Hermione.”

A few moments tick by in silence as I stare at the crowd below. I glance at him to see his eyes had been on me the whole time, his expression pensive. When our eyes meet, he holds them for a moment before his gaze follows his hand as both of his gently hold mine instead. He pulls back my left sleeve, his fingers lightly tracing his name inked on my skin. Then he goes further, tracing the white puckered lines of the scar Bellatrix left me. 

“What’re you thinking about?” I whisper.

His lips curl ruefully. “I’m thinking about how much of a hypocrite I am. I’ve called him foolish when here I am,” he says. “Unable to stay away.”

“From what?” I breathe, feeling stupid the moment I finish. My heart is beating so hard I wonder if he can feel my pulse where he holds my arm.

Thomus’ eyes hold on my arm, avoidant of my own. His voice is soft like he's telling me a secret. “I snuck you in tonight because I couldn’t bear not spending it with you.”

My eyebrows come together and I feel my head shake. “It’s just another year.”

“No,” he says, his eyes flashing up to mine, adamant. “Moments like these are important, to spend with those who are important. That’s why they’re all gathered down there, isn’t it? To go into the New Year praising the Dark Lord’s reign, congratulating themselves for their accomplishments this year.” He looks back down at our hands, at his name. “I know I don’t have much to celebrate in that regard, but I do know that you’re important to me… and frankly I'm tired of pretending otherwise.”

I can only stare at him. Unable to think, unable to breathe . How could he say something like that? 

When I finally have to draw breath after what feels like an eternity, I only get to say his name. “Thomus -”

The loud popping of fireworks bursts from below, along with some cheer that has me turning my gaze away only briefly. I turn back and Thomus’ mouth descends on mine. 

The kiss is full and wonderful, but short. He pulls back inches away to search into my gaze, like he’s asking for permission, like he’s making sure what he just said was okay. 

It was more than okay. It’s exactly what my heart wants to hear, even though my own stubborn insecurities push doubt into my mind. 

I can’t say anything back. I can’t tell him how I feel.

But I can show him.

Our lips meet again in a rush. At least it feels like that to me, like we just can’t bare being apart anymore. I pour my heart and soul into this kiss. My hands find their way into his hair, his caress and grip every part of my body he can reach. 

Soon I’m pushing him back so I can climb onto his lap. He’s pulled up my nightgown and the cool air feels amazing on my bare legs. I’ve got one foot on the floor and the other is bent at the knee, helping control my balance while I’m grinding on him. 

He keeps pulling me to him, my weight rocking into him, and I brace a hand on the wall in the bay window as he falls further back, keeping me upright. His hands slip under my nightgown, roaming my thighs. I adjust my hips, feeling brave enough to put both hands on his chest to steady me. His suit pants can’t hide how hard he is. I try to use that as a reminder he’s genuinely into me. No matter how many times I’m in his lap, it’s still hard to believe he wants me here. 

“How long till you have to go back?” I ask with controlled breaths. 

He growls. “Just fuck me, baby.” His fingers painfully dig into my hips as he pulls me down, undulating his hips against me. “I don’t want to be anywhere else.”

There are things I want to blurt out, simple little words swelling in my chest that threaten to ruin everything. 

But if I confess how I feel, it wouldn’t change anything. I’ll still be his prisoner. His possession.

I don’t wanna be an object. I long to be more .

My hands slide up his chest to meet at his neckline, shoving my fingers into the knot on his tie. I don’t bother pulling it all the way off before I go at his buttons, not stopping until his muscled chest and abdomen are revealed. My hips rock, rubbing my pussy over his cock straining to be let free. 

Then I jump up, standing to shimmy my undies to the floor. Thomus sits up and shrugs off his suit jacket, pulling off his tie completely. I pause, waiting to return to my seat, but then he looks at me, his eyes raking me up and down. 

“I want that off,” he says, referring to the only article of clothing I have left. 

I struggle not to make a face, because I still have a hard time being completely naked in front of him. If we were in bed, that would be different. This just feels too exposed.

I grip the material around my hips and step toward him. “Take it off for me?” I ask.

Lust-filled eyes lock on mine and his hands go to my thighs, sliding them up my sides, taking the gown with them. I raise my arms to help him pull it off the rest of the way and a blast of cool air from the window makes goosebumps rise all over me. It sends a shiver through my body and my nipples harden.

When my arms are free, I step even closer and cup his face, pressing my lips to his. I kiss him softly, from one corner of his mouth to the other. While I distract his mouth with sweet kisses, one hand takes off my glasses and the other goes to his belt.

Of course, I can only use one brain cell at a time, so my mouth becomes distracted when I struggle with undoing his belt. I just pull my mouth away all together so I can get a visual on my hands. I glance up at Thomus’ face to find his heated gaze focused on mine. 

“Sorry,” I mutter, looking down at the matter at hand. “Not very sexy, I know.”

“Oh, on the contrary,” he says and inhales sharply when my hands finally wrap around his swollen cock. My palms glide up and down gently before giving it a firm squeeze. My thumb circles his head, spreading a bead of pre-cum, and he leans forward, lips and tongue tracing a path from my neck to my breasts. One of his big hands cups my breast and when he immediately bites down on my nipple, I gasp and whimper. His tongue soothes away the pain, swirling around the stiff peak. 

His other hand slides down my thigh, fingers feeling the dimples and divots until they hook behind my knee. My hands go to his shoulders for balance as he lifts my foot until it’s on the bench. His fingers quickly glide back up my thigh, this time underneath it to where it’s most sensitive and softest. 

Thomus’ lips release my nipple and he pulls back enough to see my face. “I think you’re very sexy,” he murmurs. “From this pretty little pussy of yours” - his fingers glide through my folds, teasingly spreading the slipperiness from the center to my clit - “to those lips I just can’t seem to get enough of.”

His thumb presses in on my clit and my train of thought struggles to stay on track. “You’re pretty hot too,” I say breathily. “You’ve got these shoulders and thighs and hands that just -” My words are cut off by a moan when he slips two fingers inside me.

“That just what?” he teases, unmistakably smug. 

It takes me a moment to answer because his thumb in combination with his fingers curling against my g-spot have my hips rocking and my brain turning to mush. My breaths come in short pants and my eyes are pinched closed, focused on riding the pleasurable waves his fingers are orchestrating. 

“Concentrate, darling,” he presses. “Answer me.”

“Hands,” I gasp, my fingers digging into his shoulders, “hands that do terrible… awful things to me.”

His fingers turn aggressive, pressing harder and rhythmic as he hums in approval. “That’s a good girl.”

His lips return to my nipple and that pushes me past the point of no return. A stream of curses and Thomus’ name tumble from my mouth. My toes curl and my body goes stiff as my orgasm washes over me. Thomus slows his long fingers, but still presses in hard on my g-spot as my pussy pulses around him.

When I can finally breathe again, I push at Thomus’ shoulders and he leans back, bringing his drenched digits up to his mouth. He groans at my taste and resituates himself on the bench, pushing his pants and briefs past his thighs. I’m still dazed from my orgasm when Thomus pulls me on top of him. He holds his cock at the base and guides me until he’s sliding home, deep inside my pussy. 

“Oh fuck,” I moan, my eyes closing. This position never fails to put him as deep inside as possible, and if I really sit on his lap, he’s hitting my cervix. But that would be painful, so instead I move my hips around slowly, figuring out what angle works best and won’t kill my thighs. One particular move makes him groan and my eyes flutter open to find his locked intently on me, watching my body move. I definitely found the right one.

I start to go a little faster, a little harder. I have a hand on a window pane and the other grasping his shoulder to stabilize me. My thighs are burning, but the pain isn’t enough to make me stop. He’s inside me, and I love being connected like this. What I feel for him never feels more real than it does in moments like this. When I can’t be in denial.

With the increasing intensity of my hips, little whimpers start to tumble from my mouth alongside my panting. My bottom lip is nailed between my teeth and as I can feel my orgasm hurtling towards me, fuck is the only word coming out of my mouth. 

Whenever he feels they could use more attention, his hands never fail to stray to my breasts. Supporting them as they bounce and sway, leaning forward to kiss and nibble at my nipples. 

“So fucking beautiful,” I hear him grind out above the steady and erotic sound of our bodies joining. 

My orgasm is close - so, so close. I’m starting to go crazed, desperate to cum again. Thomus is, too. I can hear it in his voice as he groans.

“Baby, I need you to cum on me.” His voice is strained like he’s in utter agony. 

I let out a frustrated whimper as I pause to grind on his lap, hoping for an angle that hits my clit. 

“I need - can you - ?” I gasp out. 

I don’t even have to finish my sentence before his fingers wiggle in under my belly. My pussy’s so slippery, the pads of his fingers find the hood of my clit and press in, rubbing it in circles. My hips jerk, bouncing up and down on his cock, continuing even as my orgasm finally crashes over my body. I throw my head back as my back arches. His body stiffens below me as he cums, groaning out his pleasure.

“Beautiful darling, well done,” he pants with praise after we both have a chance to breathe, his voice shaking. “I lov-”

Thomus is abruptly cut off by loud banging on his door.

We both jump like we’ve been hit. There’s a moment where our eyes meet and I see panic cross his face just as it does on mine. 

“Thomus!” a familiar man’s voice calls from beyond the door. 

Thomus blinks, his expression hardening. He brings a finger up to his lips, warning me to be quiet. “Closet,” he whispers. “Go. Now.”

Nodding, my legs are like jelly as I push myself off of him. He’s hastily throwing on his suit as I bend to scoop up my nightgown and undies. I dash for the closet. It’s dark enough I can just hide behind the open door. Instead of the nightgown though, I opt for my pants and hoodie. Plus a pair of Thomus’ socks while I’m at it because mine are lost in the sheets somewhere.

While I’m desperately dressing, the man at the door calls for Thomus again. “Where have you been, Thomus? I’ve been sent to fetch your ungrateful ass.”

I squeeze behind the closet door to peek through the crack between the hinges just as Thomus strides to the door. He’s fully dressed and smoothing back his hair with his fingers. He pauses to take a deep breath before opening the door. 

It’s Rodolphus. 

“What do you want,” Thomus demands, sounding amazingly composed.

Rodolphus leans a hand on the doorframe. “You missed your brother’s toast,” he says, a mocking lilt to his tone. His hair is disheveled, the tie to his tux hangs loose around his neck. “How could you have missed this moment to show support for the Dark Lord? Your family? ”

“I don’t answer to you,” Thomus says. He keeps his back straight and his chin up.

Rodolphus puts a finger to his chin, tapping it. “And then I remembered a few other times you’ve mysteriously disappeared from similar events,” Rodolphus continues before abruptly shoving past Thomus into the room. Thomus tries grabbing his coat tails, but he somehow avoids him.

Rodolphus stops in the middle of the room, eyeing it while slowly turning back to Thomus. He inhales heavily through his nose and steps back towards the window with the bench. “A moment ago, I was convinced you were up here fucking my wife,” he says casually. He reaches for something on it and my anxiety explodes in my chest the moment I see him pick up my glasses. “Of course, I was only half-right. This room reeks of sex, but my wife has never hid.”

Rodolphus drops my glasses and stomps on them with his shoe, crushing my lenses under his sole. The glass crunches as he turns, backing up towards the closet. Thomus watches him with furious eyes. His hands are empty, but I know in the blink of an eye he’d have his wand.

“I’m surprised you can still get it up for her since her… accident ,” Rodolphus taunts. “She’s utterly repulsing if you ask me.”

“I didn’t,” Thomus bites.

He’s so close to the closet. My fingers feel for anything on the shelf behind me and immediately feel the unmistakable smooth metal of Thomus’ shoehorn, the very one I tried to pummel him with. 

Maybe New Year’s Eve kisses are good luck.

I raise it over my head as he steps to the doorway.

“Your silence is very telling,” Rodolphus chuckles as he slowly steps into the closet. I hear his footsteps on the wood floor as he disappears on the other side of the door.

I’ve shoved my anxiety down enough so I don’t panic as he reappears, wand scanning the room.

Just as he turns to me, I transfigure the shoehorn into a dagger, and hold it up to his throat.

[andthebubbles]

Pairing: Seb/Kimi

Summary: At twenty-seven, Seb has never seen fireworks before in his life.

Warning: character death (sort of/entirely yes… but also sort of no, but yes…)

A/N: robot Seb!

[elmundodeflor]

This is routine. The old ABBA album playing on the tv. The smell of lavender detergent seeping through every corner of their living room.

Hanji sings, as they cook dinner for Erwin and the rest, and he helps in every now and again: tasting the handmade tomatoe sauce for experimentation, telling them if they'd gone overboard with salt or pepper, too.

They've been living together for a little over two years now: his stuff all neatly placed next to messy paperwork and crumpled lab reports, their laundry room huddled with medic white coats and wrinkled colored socks.

Hanji always tells him it's an eclectic clash of styles, indeed: the opposites-attract making an authentic work of art out of their small, shared apartment. And he agrees, nevertheless, though: toothbrushes green and purple sitting together atop the sink, black dress-shoes combined with yellow Crocs on their closet-shelves.

He smiles, and takes a quick look at them over his shoulder. It seems now, that a tropical hurricane has howled through their kitchen, turned the furniture upside-down.

"I pomise I'll be cleaning things up soon!", Hanji rushes to say, shouting over the music, almost as if they'd just read right through his stare. And he can only thank them for it, really, even when they don't do enough to reach his awfully-high hygene standards:

That they've been steadily patient to study the parts of his heart that hurt. That they've learnt how to love him from dusk to sunrise, constant and in spite of it all.

He nods, and turns back to mopping the wood floors a second time, just in case one wasn't ever good enough. He knows he'll probably have to do it over again once Hanji is done with the meal, but he doesn't mind much.

This is routine, he tells himself. And, as he hears their voice invade their newly-called home with yet another melody, he's sure:

He wouldn't trade it for the world.

[zerolostwalks]

Christmas dialogue prompt! "Will you be my new year's kiss?" Rulie

Reggie exhaled a sigh of relief as the cooler night air hit him. The fact that this club had an outdoor patio area on their roof was severely underutilized. It was nice to get a break from the crowds.

Sure he could have probably taken his jacket off while he was inside but that wouldn’t change how close everyone was to each other. Or remove the overwhelming smell of alcohol that permeated the air. 

Plus it was quickly approaching midnight and he’d rather not be surrounded by couples at the moment. He had tried flirting with a few people earlier but that hadn’t really gone anywhere

He’d found a good spot leaning against the railing of the patio area, attempting to see any form of starlight in the sky above. His search was interrupted, “this spot taken?”

He turned to see a curly haired young woman about his age. Her dark eyes shined bright like the stars he couldn’t find. 

She looked vaguely familiar but Reggie wasn’t quite sure why. 

“It’s all yours,” he gestured to the open patch of railing beside him.

“You were in the band that played earlier, right?”  She smiled-a beautifully breathtaking smile that showed off an adorable gap between her front teeth-as she leaned against the handrail. “You guys were really good.”

He stood a little taller at her praise. “Tell your friends,” he echoed himself from on stage earlier with a wink, his crooked smirk a little cheekier than before.

“Right, I’ll tell all my friends about you guys,” she said with a nod. “Sunset Swerve, right?”

“Sunset Curve,” he pouted as he mimed drawing a crescent shape in the air. Then he caught the way she was biting her lower lip, shoulders subtly shaking. Wait, had she done that on purpose?

It’s in this moment of shocked confusion and her stifling giggles that he remembered why she looked familiar. “Oh!” his shout caused her to furrow her brows, “You were in my intro to Psych class.”  

“What?” She laughed out, nose wrinkling.

“Yeah, Psych 101 with Hidgens.” He tried his best to not shout in his excited explanation, “You normally sat up front near the lectern, your laptop has some purple flowers decorating it.”

Her bewildered smile was overtaken by an excited look of recognition, “Were you the guy who fell out of his chair because he fell asleep?”

“God, remind me to never take another 8 am class.” He groaned as he hid his face, or more specifically tried to hide the blush setting his face aflame. 

“That’d be easier if I actually knew your name.” She laughed as she nudged him with her shoulder. For some reason his neck and ears caught the wildfire that was his blush. 

“It's Reggie.”

“I’m Julie.” she said, her smile unwavering as someone's muffled shout came from inside announcing five minutes until midnight.  “You got anybody you need to get back to?”

“No,” Reggie admitted. He swallowed hard around the sudden nest of butterflies settling in his chest at the glimmer in her eyes before he asked, “you?”

She shook her head with a soft no of her own, then leaned a little closer. “Will you be my new year’s kiss?”

“Sure,” Reggie squeaked with an emphatic nod.

Neither of them returned to the party, enjoying the rest of their new year on the roof. Reggie even let Julie borrow his jacket when she began to shiver slightly. Even if the kiss they exchanged to ring in the new year was only a brief chaste press of lips it wasn’t the last kiss they shared that night.

[twwpress]

Weekly Briefing #26: December 18th - December 25th

Welcome back to the Weekly Press Briefing, where we bring you highlights from The West Wing fandom each week, including new fics, ongoing challenges, and more! This briefing covers all things posted from December 18 – December 25, 2022 (we’re posting a day late this week due to Christmas). Did we miss something? Let us know; you can find our contact info at the bottom of this briefing!

Challenges/Prompts:

The following is a roundup of open challenges/prompts. Do you have a challenge or event you’d like us to promote? Be sure to get in touch with us! Contact info is at the bottom of this briefing.

The December 20 prompts in 20 days are up on Tumblr.

@JessBakesCakes and @thefinestmuffin are hosting a fic reading challenge running through January 7, 2023. Details in this thread.

@flowersinapril_ posted a 30-Day Christmas Challenge with holiday prompts. 

Photos/Videos:

Here’s what was posted from December 18 - December 25.

Bradley Whitford posted photos of his pets. 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 

Bradley Whitford posted a photo of Amy Landecker at Joshua Tree.

Marlee Matlin posted videos wishing everyone a Merry Christmas and a Happy Hanukkah.

Marlee Matlin posted a photo and a Happy Birthday wish for a friend, Alexis Kashar.

Marlee Matlin posted a photo and a Happy Birthday wish for her daughter, Isabelle.

Amy Landecker posted some photos of her and Brad on vacation 1 | 2

Rob Lowe posted the trailer to his new movie, Dog Gone, premiering on Netflix in January.

Rob Lowe posted a photo of himself and his wife, Sheryl Berkoff.

Mary McCormack posted a photo of family members she is spending time with for the holidays.

Kim Webster posted a funny video of herself preparing poultry.

Dulé Hill posted some family photos.

Dulé Hill posted a photo with his daughter at a San Diego Chargers game.

Joshua Malina posted a photo of some latkes he made.

Joshua Malina posted a photo of himself getting prepared for a new job.

Donna Moss Daily: December 18 | December 19 | December 20 | December 21 | December 22 | December 23 | December 24 | December 25

Daily Josh Lyman: December 18 | December 19 | December 20 | December 21 | December 22 | December 23 | December 24 | December 25

No Context BWhit: December 18 | December 19 | December 20 | December 21 | December 22 | December 22 (2) | December 23 | December 24 | December 25

@JanelMilfoney: December 20 | December 24 | December 25 | December 25 (2)

Edits/Artwork:

#JOSHDONNA: no thing defines a man like love that makes him soft by sam_writes_fics [VIDEO EDIT]

Creator Spotlight:

We’re skipping the creator spotlight this week. We’ll be back next week with another great creator!

 Miscellaneous:

Happy birthday to John Spencer. We miss you!

This Week in Canon:

Welcome to This Week in Canon, where we revisit moments in The West Wing that occurred on these dates during the show’s run.

Season 2, Episode 10: Noël aired on December 20, 2000.

Happy Birthday, Toby Ziegler! Toby was born December 23, 1954. 

Editor’s Choice:

It’s the last week of 2022! Let’s send it off with some New’s Year’s Eve-themed fics!

auld lang syne by hufflepuffhermione for TheBreakfastGenie | Rated T | Josh Lyman/Donna Moss | Complete | Nine New Year’s Eve parties, and the things that Josh discovers.

A Better Year by Lady_of_Winterhell | Rated T | C. J. Cregg/Toby Ziegler, Josh Lyman/Donna Moss | Complete | It’s New Year’s Eve, and the Senior Staffers have a gala to attend!

the last page by octothorpetopus  | Rated G | Josh Lyman/Sam Seaborn | Complete | sam wouldn't be so lonely if it weren't new year's eve. he wouldn't be so lonely if he hadn't been broken up with the week previous, either. the last new year's eve of the millennium (depending who you ask) is shaping up to be an eventful one.

and your eyes look like coming home by crossingdelancey | Rated T | C.J. Cregg/Andrea Wyatt | Complete | It’s a room full of people, with drinks, and colourful lights, and laughter, and half-assed swing dancing, and somehow there’s nowhere she’d rather be than in quiet a corner with Andy Wyatt.

—

for ivy

based on the prompt ‘you’re teasing me again

glitter on the floor after the party by JediAnnieScrambler for beabea | Rated T | C.J. Cregg/Andrea Wyatt, C. J. Cregg/Toby Ziegler, Andrea Wyatt/Toby Ziegler, C. J. Cregg/Andrea Wyatt/Toby Ziegler | Complete | “Come here often?”

“Only when the company is good,” said the woman, “I’m Andy.”

“CJ,” she said as the people inside began counting down.

(For the Department of Fanworks’ 20 in 20 prompt challenge. Day 18: Midnight)

And a Happy New Year by spinninginfinity | Rated G | Josh Lyman/Donna Moss | Complete | Josh has to work late on New Year's Eve.

‘You should go meet the others. I’ll be there before midnight, I promise.’

Fantasy 8.18 - A New Year by LizaCameron | Rated T Josh Lyman/Donna Moss | Complete | Josh proposes to Donna and old friends visit. The troops head home for the holidays as a new crisis looms.

Part 3 of TWW Fantasy Season 8 Series

Fics:

Presenting your weekly roundup of fics posted in the tag for The West Wing on Archive of Our Own. If you are so inclined, please be sure to leave the authors some love in the form of kudos or comments. Be mindful of posted warnings/tags for each story.

Josh/Donna

Heres to the Fools Who Dream by banginbeeps for zeeskeit | Rated G | Josh Lyman/Donna Moss | Complete

happy golden days by mikaylawrites | Rated G | Josh Lyman/Donna Moss | Complete

voulez-vous by swancharmings | Rated E | Josh Lyman/Donna Moss | Complete

like we were in paris (we were somewhere else) by BeneathAnOrangeSky | Rated M | Josh Lyman/Donna Moss | In Progress

i’ve got a blank space baby (and i’ll write your name) by sam_writes_fics for JessBakesCakes | Rated M | Josh Lyman/Donna Moss | In Progress

Festive Drabbles 2022 by WitchyPrentiss | Rated G | Josh Lyman/Donna Moss | In Progress

you’re here (where you should be) by joshatella (shuuuliet) | Rated G | Josh Lyman/Donna Moss | Complete

Happenstance by BimadaBomily | Not Rated | Josh Lyman/Donna Moss | In Progress

How Will He Find Me by Shinyrosa | Rated T | Josh Lyman/Donna Moss | In Progress

what else can I give him, poor as I am? by park_all_covered_with_cheese | Rated G | Josh Lyman/Donna Moss | Complete

christmas comes (this time each year) by fairwinds09 for JessBakesCakes | Rated E | Josh Lyman/Donna Moss | Complete

no other quite like her by JessBakesCakes | Rated G | Josh Lyman/Donna Moss | Complete 

Anywhere But Here by casliyn | Rated E | Josh Lyman/Donna Moss | In Progress

The Theory of Entropy by Jane_3yr3 | Rated M | Josh Lyman/Donna Moss | In Progress

 Sam/Josh

Pieces Form the Whole by eowyn_of_rohan | Rated E | Josh Lyman/Sam Seaborn | In Progress

Sufganiyot and Other Declarations of Love by eowyn_of_rohan | Rated G | Josh Lyman/Sam Seaborn | Complete

 Other Pairings/Gen Fic

If I had never met you, you couldn’t have gone by miabicicletta | Danny Concannon/C.J. Cregg | Rated T | Complete

Where The Hell…? by dumbchemist | Rated T | No pairings listed | In progress 

Wait For Me by imperfectirises | Rated M | Abbey Bartlet/Jed Bartlet | In Progress

security consulting by rearviewmirror (Breaking Bad crossover) | Rated T | Leo McGarry & Mike Ehrmantraut | Complete

 Multiple Pairings

A True Blue Miracle by mlea7675 | Rated T | Helen Santos/Matt Santos, Abbey Bartlet/Jed Bartlet, Josh Lyman/Donna Moss | Complete

The Christmas Tree Lighting by mlea7675, Spybaby47 (Gilmore Girls crossover) | Abbey Bartlet/Jed Bartlet, Logan Huntzberger/Original Character(s) | Complete

Christmas Night by LadyArcher_13 | Rated G | Danny Concannon/C.J. Cregg, Josh Lyman/Donna Moss | Complete

Something Else Hoc by eyes_onthehorizon | Rated T | Danny Concannon/C. J. Cregg, Josh Lyman/Donna Moss, Helen Santos/Matt Santos, Abbey Bartlet/Jed Bartlet, Leo McGarry/Annabeth Schott, Zoey Bartlet/Charlie Young, Mallory O'Brien/Sam Seaborn, Will Bailey/Kate Harper, Will Bailey/Sam Seaborn | In Progress

THE WEEKLY PRESS BRIEFING TEAM CAN BE REACHED VIA THE FOLLOWING METHODS:

Twitter: @TWWPress

Email: weeklypressbriefing@gmail.com

Feel free to let us know if we missed something, if you have an event you’d like us to promote, or if you have an item that you’d like included in the next briefing!

xx, What’s next?