#rain from like. midnight on Christmas eve on

[bhalspawn]

hey fun fact! wheelchair accessible means i can get inside on my own. if i need a team of at least 3 people to make sure i dont break my neck it's not accessible

[scarletttries]

Christmas By Myself This Year (Moon Knight Request)

Pairing: Steven Grant x GN!Reader

Rating: Pure fluff, gender neutral pronouns throughout :)

Word Count: 1.9k

Author's Note: My Christmas gift to all the Steven Grant lovers, after I got the sweetest anon request for something along the lines of Steven turning up on your doorstep on Christmas Eve 🥰I hope you are all having the best festive period that you can 💕

Christmas By Myself This Year (Steven Grant Fluff)

"This is great."

You stated each word matter-of-factly to yourself as you put the final bauble on the miniature Christmas tree you'd perched in the middle of your coffee table. You hadn't been planning on decorating this year, part of a promise you made yourself to use your precious few days off to prioritise self-care and ignore all the pressures that usually came with Christmas; family drama, big nights with your friends that left you exhausted, and never enough hours in the day to do something for yourself after looking for everyone else. No, this year you were taking control of your own Christmas and spending it at home, alone. It was going to be perfect, and you had been so proud of yourself when you decided to be alone this holiday period, so when you went out to get everything you needed for your favourite meal and saw some decorations discounted on Christmas Eve you couldn't help but take it as a sign to put up a few little celebratory trinkets.

You'd started with some fairy lights around the windows of your little flat, then popped some colourful baubles on the foot-high tree, now finally the finishing touch. You giggled to yourself as you tied a piece of ribbon to the nail above your front door, a neat bow holding a swinging piece of mistletoe in place. The face that flashed through your mind was that of Steven Grant, a regular at the vegetarian restaurant you worked at, his big brown eyes staring warmly up at you as if you were old friends. As well as being one of your most loyal customers, he was also by far the friendliest, visiting you often at work and talking your ear off in an effort to get to know you better, even going as far as to walk you home one night with an umbrella extended above you both when you forgot your own in the worst of the London weather. He was sweet and shy and awkward, all while being undeniably handsome but completely unaware of it. You realised you were smiling to yourself at the mere thought of the man, shaking your head as you turned your back to the door and wondered if it would break your own Christmas rules to try and bump into him at midnight on new year's eve.

You let the thought ruminate as you threw on a festive playlist and heated up some mulled wine on your stove, grateful for the moment of peace but also quickly feeling the tinge of loneliness in your quiet home. It was a relief to be away from work and family, so why did you keep glancing at the sofa like you were looking at someone? Maybe it was the string of bad dates this year had thrown your way, each one an unmitigated disaster. Or the fact that you'd just seen two of your friends get engaged this winter. Maybe you did want to be spending your Christmas with someone. Maybe you just didn't have that special someone in your life yet? So Christmas alone it is.

"This is great.." You sighed as you turned off the heat and poured the steaming burgundy potion into a festive mug, topping it with a slice of orange and then absent-mindedly doing the same to a second mug. Holding one in each hand you walked back to the coffee table, setting them down as you realised they would both just be for you, the playlist almost drowned out by torrential rain picking up outside your windows. Another wave of loneliness washed over you at the first sip, and suddenly you didn't feel much like being alone at all.

And then the doorbell rang.

You weren't expecting anyone, everyone you could think of being out of town for their own holiday adventures, so you slowly approached the door, debating dialing 9-9 into your phone just in case, and peered through the peephole.

"Steven?" You practically ripped the door open at the sight of the cold, soaked man, struggling with the chain just long enough you feared he might have turned around and walked home already. "What are you doing here? Are you okay?" Wide-eyed and almost apologetic Steven quickly nodded his head, tripping over his tongue as he spoke. He had spent all day preparing a few words from when he got brave enough to see you, but he wasn't expecting to miss you so much that he'd turn up on your doorstep on Christmas Eve, and he didn't prepare an answer for when you asked if he was okay.

"Merry Christmas! Oh, um, I'm fine, sorry, this must seem mad. I'm here and I didn't call first and now I'm dripping on your nice door mat." He trailed off in a panicked chuckle, each word making him realise quite what a sorry sight he must be.

"Do you want to come inside Steven? I just made mulled wine?" Your smile was just as welcoming as your words and even though he dreaded the thought of intruding, he found himself floating into your cosy home very happily.

"Are you sure? I don't want to be a bother. You have such a nice place, I'd hate to drip all over it." He found the tension melting from his shoulders as your hands settled there, suddenly remembering just why he missed being around you so much.

"You're not a bother at all Steven, you are very welcome here. Let me take your wet coat." He willingly shrugged off the damp layer and mumbled his thank yous as you shut the door behind him, letting him delve deeper into your inner sanctum. His face lit up as he surveyed your walls, a dozen new insights into your life and the things that you loved, your warm space so uniquely you but welcoming to everyone all the same. He felt at ease and at home, like he did whenever he got to spend time with you.

You on the other hand could feel your pulse racing as his flushed cheeks drew closer to yours, every beaming smile thrown your way as he looked around raising the temperature in your home by a degree or two. Trying to pull yourself together you turned on your heels and picked up the mugs you'd just filled up, extending one to Steven.

"I accidentally made two mugs of this, so I must have known you were coming!" You cringed at how isolated that sentence made you feel, but Steven's shaking hands wrapping around the mug and soaking up its warmth helped to put you at ease.

"You're too kind to me, love. I'm sorry to interrupt your private Christmas, I know you were looking forward to a bit of alone time this year."

"To be honest, the alone time got old pretty quickly. I'm really glad you stopped by, I could use the company. But, and I hope this doesn't sound rude, why did you stop by Steven?"

"Oh right of course! Sorry, got a bit carried away making myself at home there. I just wanted to give you something." Steven blushed as he set down his cup and rushed back to his coat, pulling a little envelope topped with a bow out of the pocket. "This is for you." He presented it proudly, watching in eager anticipation as you carefully unsealed it and slid out the little card.

"A gift card for my favourite coffee shop? That's so sweet Steven, thank you! I'm sorry I didn't get you anything, but I really appreciate this." It never ceased to amaze you just how thoughtful he could be, and just how closely he listened to everything you had to say.

"Well this might be something you could do for me. But only if you want! Um, I wanted to ask if you would ever want to go for a coffee with me some time? I really like talking to you, and seeing you, and spending time with you, and I know I only ever do it when you're working and that can make it tricky for us to talk too much, so I wanted to ask you on a proper date in the new year? But also you don't have to say yes, I got you the gift card so I could still technically buy you a coffee even if you don't want to go and get it with me. Which would be fine. But I would really like to go with you.." You could see the desperate panic building in his eyes as he went back and forth on the sentiment, hands wringing frantically as he tried to get the words out even though he couldn't remember anything he'd prepared every time he opened his mouth. You worried if you let him talk much longer he'd end up blue in the face or sprinting for the door, so setting the card down on the table, you figured out one way to shut him up and answer his question at the same time.

One hand landed gently on the side of his face, thumb running across his flushed cheek, while the other found his trembling fingers. His lips stopped mid-movement in awestruck disbelief as you glanced down at his mouth before slowly but surely leaning into him. Your bottom lip met his, plump and soft and hanging slightly open, and then as your noses brushed, the cupid bows of your upper lips kissed. It was sweet and soft and his lips felt cold against yours, uncertain as if you might pull away on second thought. You gave him a second to react, letting the cogs whir in his brain until finally his hand squeezed back at yours, an arm wrapping around your waist as he dived in for more. His jaw tensed as his lips applied more pressure, chasing the high that came from finally tasting you, pulling you tightly against his chest to soak up as much of your warmth and scent as he could possibly consume. He felt almost drunk as he finally pulled away, resting his forehead on yours with a giddy grin, summoning a little more confidence to ask again,

"Does this mean you'll go for coffee with me, love?"

"It definitely does Steven." Your second kiss was interrupted by the elated giggle that crept past his lips, before he went to plant peck after peck on you, this outcome even better than he could have ever hoped a Christmas miracle would be. You caught a glimpse of the recently strung up mistletoe over Steven's shoulder as you pulled him in for a hug, smiling to yourself at the wonderful turnaround your evening had had. You could feel Steven's grin against your cheek as he muttered quietly in your ear,

"If you want any more company this Christmas, I haven't got any plans. We can do anything you want."

"This is great." For the first time tonight, as Steven wrapped his arms around you even more tightly, you truly meant it.

[allwaswell16]

All the One Direction fics I read and enjoyed in January 2024. You can listen to my podcast to hear me talk about each of these fics as well as an overview of what was posted on ao3 including the fics on this month’s fic roundup which you can find here! Please let the writers know if you liked the fics by leaving kudos and comments! Happy reading!

Fanfictional Podcast #58 |  ko-fi | fic recs

- Louis/Harry -

❄️ and i would search the night sky to find you by devilinmybrain / @thedevilinmybrain

(E, 56k, omegaverse) Harry Styles is a high class, well-bred Omega attending Bosworth Academy - a prestigious boarding school looking over the small town on Kinsey. He has his whole life already planned for him, learning his place as the potential mate for an important Alpha, practicing his home making skills, and be obedient above all else.

❄️ You're Not My Type (still I fall) by Imogenlee / @imogenleewriter

(M, 38k, omegaverse) This is just a bit of rain; it'll blow over. Then Harry will just... well, alright, he isn't entirely sure what to do when the rain stops because he'll still be stuck and lost. 

❄️ I Really Like Your Styles: The Baking Advent-ure by @homosociallyyours

(T, 35k, coffee shop) Louis isn't much for frills, and the coffee shop he co-owns with his best friend Liam is evidence of that. Yes, it's got a decent sized, well-kept industrial kitchen, but Louis insists that people come to coffee shops for coffee, not mediocre pastry and plastic wrapped cookies. 

❄️ Until the Pearls Get Lost by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup

(M, 25k, omegaverse) With rumours swirling around about the reason for the rejected bond, Harry gives in to Liam’s pleas. He hasn’t the slightest idea how that decision will shape the rest of his life.

❄️ Something To Remember by @parmahamlarrie

(T, 25k, soulmate au) Will a trip to Maui’s most exclusive and private resort bring these two soulmates together, or will their bodies be constant reminders of what they missed out on?

❄️ Rolling Stone UK Awards AU (series) by INnenaHeart / @thechavier

(M, 15k, canon divergence) Harry started walking away from him and he felt like he was missing the moment, if he let him go like this he would lose on something. Something great. Something beautiful.

❄️ Sex Drunk Suckerpunch by thinlines / @thinlinez

(E, 7k, sugar baby) Sugar Baby Louis did what any sugar baby should avoid doing but (clichely) end up doing anyways, that is, failing for his sugar mama.

❄️ Harmony by @nouies

(E, 6k, omegaverse) When they get stuck together in an elevator, Harry scents Louis after nothing else works to bring him out of his panicked state.

❄️ Saving Sweet Creature by The_Halcyonic_Lachesist / @chai-hat-tea

(G, 6k, mermaid) Louis lives a life he wouldn’t change anything for, with Cliff by his side. What happens when he meets a mermaid who quite likely hates him?

❄️ powerless (and i don't care) by localopa / @voulezloux

(E, 4k, daddy kink) everyone on tour calls each other daddy, don’t ask why. and louis is so used to calling everyone “daddy” that, when he finally comes home, naturally he calls harry that.

❄️ Tuca Tuca (ILikeYouILikeYouILikeYou) by @persephoneflouwers

(E, 4k, canon) The San Francisco getaway AU, where Harry is needy and Louis has a flight to LA in a few hours.

❄️ Stuck in Midnight Traffic by LetTheMusicMoveYou / @letthemusicmoveyou28

(M, 3k, Christmas) the one where two broken people meet in an empty tube car on Christmas Eve. Can they find a way to heal each other?

❄️ Just Hold On by @silverstuff50

(M, 3k, security guard) “Harry, I’m fine.” Louis says soothingly. “I know I’m safe because you and Joni are there. As long as I can feel you holding me I know I’ll be ok.”

❄️ tuck a knife with my heart up my sleeve by padfootyoudog / @louisisworthit

(G, 2k, royal au) Doncaster loses the war, and Louis is the prize.

❄️ Mistletoe Kiss by @neondiamond

(G, 1k, roommates) A little bit of mistletoe is just the thing Louis needed to let his roommate Harry know he’s got quite the crush on him.

❄️ Oh Christmas Three by @tommokat

(M, 1k, omegaverse) A birthday surprise goes awry. Louis doesn’t understand. Harry blames the oven.

❄️ Always You by @enchantedlandcoffee

(G, 1k, exes) Louis calls his ex on Valentine's Day.

- Rare Pairs -

❄️ like a moth into a flame by we_are_the_same / @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed

(T, 5k, Zayn/Louis) A student writes Zayn a sex poem. The only logical conclusion is for Louis and Zayn to fake date.

❄️ Fine Line by LadyAJ_13 / @ladyaj-13

(G, 1k, Louis/Nick Grimshaw) Telling his family was always going to be a big deal, but doing it alone was a sacrifice he could make. He never thought they’d fall about laughing.

❄️ to wake up by your side is all I wanna do by @beardyboyzx

(G, 1k, Zayn/Niall) Sometimes, Niall still thinks about the way Zayn’s laugh sounds when they watch TV and Niall makes up fake answers for whatever quiz show they’re watching.

[hyuckmov]

haechan — fallingforyou

bestfriend!haechan x reader, (feat. best friend mark, mentions of yeri) 5k, unrequited love angst for the most part, a bit of fluff, a happy ending this time, christmas and new years eve season vibes a/n: this is loosely based on 'fallingforyou' by the 1975 because...'i don't wanna be your friend/i wanna kiss your neck' but also hopefully its a little more than that...this goes out to all of you who've been in love with your best friend :) i'm scared there's more mark than haechan in this LOL also for someone who doesn't write long prose 5k is a little amazing for me </3 lmk if you like it thru my asks!

1 dec

you were only having this conversation with mark because haechan couldn’t make it for movie night. 

movie nights without haechan were a quiet affair. with no one clamoring over which movie to put on and insisting on playing a series of games to decide, with no arguments over snacks or blankets or which lights to turn off, you and mark sat down and easily picked a movie from the watch-list. things were peaceful. until mark decided to bring up a topic you had sincerely hoped he wouldn’t. 

“hey, i have to ask…” he sat up from where he was slumped on the couch. not paying him much attention, you nodded so he knew you were listening. “have you really never had feelings for haechan?” 

turning over to look at him, you groaned. “mark we’ve been through this…” 

he slid off the couch and joined you on the floor, pressing pause on the movie so there was silence instead. “give me your honest answer.” 

you truly, genuinely, hated whenever he brought this up. you hated whenever anyone would ask whether you and haechan were dating, or if he had a crush on you, or any other variation of how are you only friends? truthfully, you hate it because whenever someone asks, you imagine it for a split second: it puts feelings and images in your head that are difficult to forget, and before you know it you can’t act normal around your best friend for about the next two weeks. 

but then you embarrass yourself: you linger too long on his hands over the popcorn, you stare a little too much when he’s across the table during dinner, and haechan notices. he laughs in your face, and that makes you drop any other feelings you have settling in your stomach. business as usual. lather rinse repeat. 

mark is still looking at you, his wide eyes telling you he really wants to talk it out this time. mark is a big believer in having all your feelings out, and in ‘open communication’. you’re surprised that it’s been 4 months since he brought up the issue. 

“mark, just tell me what you want to say.” 

“okay.” he pauses, and you can see him lay out his line of reasoning in his head. “what would you do if haechan told you he had a big project due and he was stuck at the library working on it?” 

“i would go over there and help him.” you say, without thinking much about it. “i did that, actually. literally last week.” 

“okay, cool, you’re a good friend.” mark takes a breath, “what would you do if haechan told you, that right now at this very moment, he really wanted to eat ramen.” 

you raised your eyebrows because that wasn’t out of character for haechan at all. “go over there with ramen in a pot.” 

mark nods, but he’s just warming up. “it’s midnight right now, in case you were wondering. it’s also raining outside, but i’ll move on. how many times have you helped haechan just over this past week?” 

you’re beginning to catch on to what he’s implying. “we’re friends. that’s what good, loyal, friends do. we help each other out!” 

“i’m not finished.” 

“well, hurry up with your point and less with the hypotheticals.” you turn back to the tv, and you are about to press play on the movie when mark asks- 

“do you say i love you to each other?” 

your reply of ‘yes” sticks in your throat. yes you do. frequently. but its a throwaway comment, its how you end phonecalls, its what you say before you step out of the door. neither of you mean it. do you? “we don’t mean it.” you settle on your answer. 

“he might not mean it.” mark sighs. “think about it y/n. you’ve blown off dates with people who were interested in you just because haechan wanted to hang out. you’re with him almost every second of every day. you would drop everything just to do something he asked. you don’t do that for me, that’s for certain.” you open your mouth to protest, and he quickly adds “not that i mind. i know we’re good friends. i’m just saying.” 

“what are you saying?” 

mark takes a deep breath. “you treat haechan like your boyfriend.” 

the words settle in your brain for a second. you want to say you don’t, but you think a little deeper. if you and haechan were in a relationship, what would you do differently? where would things change? we would be kissing you think. then, fuck. why am i thinking about kissing haechan? then, if this is love, then yes i’m in love with him.

but mark hasn’t finished his thought. “you think of haechan as your boyfriend, you act like you’re his girlfriend, and i’m only bringing this up today because…” 

“he doesn’t.” your eyes meet mark’s, and in that second, the both of you understand each other far better than can be put into words. 

10 dec

you really hate that mark brought it up. and this time, it feels a bit different than before, because mark has really made some points. do you act like you’re his girlfriend? should you stop? should you scale back? it would be horrible if you just wasted all this apparent girlfriend-isms on your best friend. 

“is something wrong today?” you’re having your weekly lunches with haechan at the cafe near the library, and he’s sitting across from you, and everything is normal: you’re at your regular seat, with your regular choice of lunch in front of you, and haechan is telling you about some way mark messed up the microwave last night. but also everything isn’t normal, because you’re back in the depths of pondering your relationship with haechan, and suddenly you’re wondering if this could be a date in some other universe. 

“nothing’s wrong.” you poke at your food. “so are you getting a new microwave?” 

“y/n i’m serious. did something happen? you’re being really…” he squints his eyes as he examines you closely, and somehow this makes your cheeks feel warm. you can’t look at him in the eyes. “you’re just…you keep not looking at me. why aren’t you looking at me? do you know something?” 

“know what?” suddenly, you’re attentive: know something? your mind is going wild with all the possibilities, because it’s beginning to sound like…

does he like you and he’s afraid you found out? 

“nothing” he says, far too quickly, and it makes your heart beat a little faster. 

“what are you keeping from me?” now you’re on the offensive, and you watch haechan duck his head to avoid your gaze. 

“i’ll tell you when i’m ready”, he mumbles and checks his phone for the time. “fuck. i have to go for class now.” 

“okay!” you’re a little breathless from all the thinking. an awkward kind of silence fills the space as he puts things into his bag, determinedly not looking in your direction. impulsively, you add, “you can tell me anything, you know that right?” 

“i know that. i guess i’m just…” he shoulders one of the straps on his backpack, and pauses to look at you. “i’m just scared of what might happen.” 

you’re hoping against hope. maybe this time things will be different. “i’ll wait. things will be okay, i’m sure of it.” 

“okay.” he smiles and stands up to go. and before you can lose your nerve, you say, as quickly and hopefully easily as you can: 

“loveyoubye!” 

he turns and his face breaks out into a wide smile. “bye y/n. love you. see you later.” 

maybe you do act like he’s yours. but maybe mark was wrong, because sometimes you think he acts like you’re his too. 

17 dec

it’s been a week, and whatever it was, you’re wondering if that moment in a cafe was completely hallucinated. 

haechan doesn’t bring up whatever he was keeping from you. you don’t want to push him, because good things take time, don’t they? you ask mark if he has any idea what it’s about, but apart from telling you not to get your hopes up, he doesn’t have a clue either. you think you could maybe go on living like this: delusional over the fact that your best friend might like you. ready at any moment to return the feelings but ready at any moment to also pretend like nothing ever happened. 

except maybe you couldn’t, because this whole situation has made the i love yous ever more painful. 

after the next movie night, when you’re about to head to your own flat, you stand around, putting on your shoes and taking them off again while haechan busies himself in his kitchen. mark had already left, leaving you one last skeptical look before he headed out. you want to tell haechan you love him, just to hear him say it back — but every time gets a bit harder because it means something a little realer. “haechan!” 

“yeah?” he walks out, still holding a plate. “get home safe y/n. text me when you get back.” 

“okay, goodnight.” you walk out of the door, and as casually as you can: “love you.” 

“mmhm. love you too.” haechan’s already gone when you turn back. 

as the days turn colder, december seeping into christmas in all its stories of love in the winter and warm fireplaces, it becomes a mini game for you: how many times could you get haechan to say he loved you, just to hear it? ending each phone call with love yous, that you just manage not to stumble over. facetiming at night, and waiting to say it but not getting a chance to as he falls asleep. in the library before haechan’s class, you take too long deciding how you should say it: i love you, or just love you! bye, love you! or love you bye! and haechan has already left, with a wave. 

you say it to his face once: as he’s adjusting the hood on your sweater for you before you leave the restaurant, and his face is so close to yours that you can count his eyelashes. and its so endearing, how his eyes crinkle into a smile, his hands brushing the hair out of your eyes, as he says it back. 

each time he does say it, you let it warm you from the inside out. you let yourself imagine that he means it, and it’s enough for you, just for now. 

20 dec

so your guard is truly down when he shows up to dinner at your apartment. you made kimchi jjigae, haechan’s favorite, and mark had come over too. the plates were cleared, but all of you lingered around the dining table for a while, talking quietly about little things, enjoying the warmth of the living room even as it gets colder and colder outside. 

haechan is a little tipsy from the soju mark brought over. his cheeks are dusted with red, and he’s becoming increasingly touchy: his hands playing with your fingers and his head gently tilted to rest against yours. you like it a little too much, and you could get used to it. you wonder if he’ll tell you he loves you today. 

“mark. y/n.” he swallows. “i asked yeri out today.” 

and just like that, the delusion from the past month, the confidence you’ve gained from knowing your feelings and imagining that maybe he returned them, all your i love yous and all of his, begin to feel like a cruel joke. 

mark is looking at you. carefully, he says, “that’s great haechan. i didn’t know you liked her.” 

haechan smiles: you can feel it against your shoulder. “me neither.” still playing with your fingers, “i think one day, i was sitting next to her in class, and i realised.” 

you think you’ve stopped breathing. normally, your silence would have been suspicious, and he should have noticed: should have turned to you, squinting, trying to figure out your opinion. but clearly you’re the last thing on his mind. “that’s so sweet. what did she say?” you try to sound excited, and you push him off of you like you can’t wait to hear the rest of the story, but really you just want to be away. 

“she said yes.” haechan laughs a little at that, and he’s so happy. “we’re going to the christmas party together. and the new years eve party.” 

mark laughs too, but his eyes never leave your face. “will you she be your new year’s kiss?” 

haechan’s eyes widen. “dude i didn’t even think about that. sure.” he leans back, and looks up at the ceiling and you know he’s thinking about her. you’re not thinking of anything.

later, as you’re both cleaning up the kitchen, haechan stops you gently with a hand on your wrist. he seems to have sobered a little, because the cloudy look in his eyes are gone. “i’m sorry i didn’t tell you. i was really scared i would make a big deal out of it if i told you and mark, only to get rejected.” he smiles a little. 

you nod a little, not sure how to respond. but then he looks at you with his eyebrows furrowed, and he takes your hands in his. “are you mad at me? i’m really sorry. i promise i’ll never keep anything from you again. i love you, and y-you’re my best friend.” 

and instantly, you want to hold on to him so badly that you don’t want to do anything that might drive him away. 

“i’m not mad at you.” and because you’re just a little selfish, you pull him in for a hug. just one last one, before everything changes. “i’m really really happy for you haechan.” and just because you’re such a good friend, the one who puts him before you always, you add as you pull away: “we should probably stop saying i love you. yeri might get the wrong idea.” 

he laughs a little. “you’re right. thanks y/n.” 

x

it’s a mark of how good a friend mark is that he walks haechan to the crosswalk before saying he left something at your place, and doubles back. 

when you swing open the door, the first thing he says is “i’m so sorry, i swear i didn’t know anything. it just happened.” and it’s that which makes it real, and makes you start to cry. he spends the rest of the night patting at your hair as you mess up his hoodie with your tears, his “i knows” punctuating your incoherent rants about how it should be you. because it should be you, but also there’s no reason for it to be, at all. and there’s nothing you can do. 

25 dec

mark solemnly promises he will watch over you for the whole christmas party. “just in case you get drunk and try to ruin yourself, or them.” he says. you tell him you don’t need someone watching you, and tell him to enjoy his christmas night, but he waves you off and slings an arm around your shoulder, for which you are grateful. it’s mostly been you and him this past week, haechan often busy with a date or another activity, and you’re a little grateful for that because seeing him in the flesh makes it hurt far more than all the hypothesizing you do in your head. 

it’s only 2 hours into the party, more people trickling in by the hour, and already he’s started a game with you where you point out possible people for you to go out with. both he and you know you would never make a move, as evidenced from what happened between you and the person we are pretending is not holding hands with his maybe girlfriend right now. but it’s fun to hypothesise. 

“he looks nice.” mark points at a boy you recognise as jaemin, who’s inspecting the back of your television.

“maybe.” you tilt your head, thinking about it. “he has a nice smile. oh and he helped me with calculus the other day — that was really nice of him.” 

“so you know him!” mark beams at you. “you should ask him what he’s doing with your tv.” 

“ask who what?” and the little bubble you’ve been sitting with mark in for the night is suddenly gone, because haechan has wandered over to the two of you, yeri following behind and smiling widely. he’s wearing a red striped sweater, the one that you picked out for him, and it looks so good that you curse a little internally.

“y/n was thinking of asking jaemin out.” mark says, swiftly. his arm tightens around your shoulder, encouraging you to stay calm. 

haechan looks taken aback. “you’ve never mentioned jaemin to me.” 

“i don’t have to tell you everything. you certainly don’t.” it’s a little mean, and not at all how you would speak with him usually but the way his fingers are interlaced with yeri’s is making you feel jumpy and annoyed. mark is giving you wide eyes, but he tries to pass it off with a laugh. 

“sorry. she’s just mean because she’s drunk.” you haven’t had a sip of alcohol the entire night, but you play along, and try to avoid haechan’s eyes. 

“sorry.” you mumble. haechan is still looking at you suspiciously, but yeri presses herself into his side and his expression clears. 

“yeri wanted to say thank you for hosting the party.” he smiles at her, like there’s something the two of them share. you think you’re going to be sick, but mark has been answering for you far too much. 

“thank you for coming. hope you had fun!” you smile as graciously as you can, but you tug on mark’s jacket with your other hand. “sorry, excuse us, we want to go say hi to jaemin for a bit.” 

mark helps you hop off the kitchen counter, steadying you with an arm as you look around the room for ‘jaemin’. the entire time, haechan watches, not sure why he can’t stop noticing how the two of you are acting, and how this is the first time he’s really seen the two of you so close. he wonders when you’ve ever been this comfortable linking arms with mark, or putting your head on his shoulder, and why hadn’t he noticed before? 

“wait-” he blurts out. you look at him questioningly. “be careful.” 

irritated at him, for making you talk to him and look at him like this, you respond “what?” a little too aggressively. you really can’t control it today. 

“with jaemin.” if you were still delusional, which you are trying very hard not to be, you would almost say it was as if he was making up what to say as he was saying it. “i heard he’s really rude. and not nice to date. at all.” 

you raise your eyebrows, because you know that anyone who’s met jaemin would never say that about him. “sure haechan. merry christmas.” 

and just like that, you leave him and yeri in the kitchen, mark guiding you through the crowd easily. jaemin is nowhere to be seen, so the both of you go to your bedroom, where you spend the rest of the night, mark valiantly trying to cheer you up by playing christmas songs for you on the guitar. 

and if haechan slipped away from the party to stand outside your bedroom, listening to you laughing and requesting mark do the high note from all i want for christmas is you again, you were none the wiser. 

but all you did know, was that when you and mark came out of the bedroom to kick everyone out of your apartment, haechan and yeri were kissing under the mistletoe, his hands wrapped around her waist, and her hands cupping his cheeks. you cheer loudly along with everyone else, and give him an aggressive thumbs up when he looks over at you and mark. you’re beginning to think you want to spend new years eve alone. 

31 dec

you were only having this conversation with haechan because the both of you were stuck, in your car, on the way to a new years eve party you swore you didn’t want to go to, because mark couldn’t make it. 

over the phone, he was really sorry. “i had no idea, but i have a family dinner tonight that i can’t get out of it. i’m really sorry y/n. don’t go to the party if you don’t want to.” 

“of course i don’t want to.” spending new year’s eve alone was bad, but it would be worse if you had to watch yeri and haechan kiss to seal their love forevermore as the clock struck midnight. “i’ll watch a good movie, and go to sleep. i might not even stay up for it. it’s just another night.” 

but that didn’t happen. haechan showed up at your door, breathless and panicked. his car broke down, and he had to go to the new years eve party to meet yeri, so could he please please please borrow your car? and could you please please please come with him, because he didn’t want to drive over alone? as you handed him your keys, seated in the passenger’s seat, in last year’s new year’s eve dress and mark’s huge hoodie over it, the words “you would drop everything just to do something he asked” rang in your head. 

would you go to a new years eve party if he asked, one that you weren’t planning on going to, in the middle of the night, even if you knew it would likely bring you immense pain? yes apparently, you would. apparently, you still treated him like your boyfriend when he was about to be someone else’s. 

haechan keeps looking over at you. how do you look so pretty, in the middle of the night, just getting ready for bed? and why are you wearing mark’s hoodie? “i’m really sorry for making you go out like this.” 

you wave him off. “it’s fine.” softer, “you know i’d do anything for you.” 

cars moved slowly around you, and their tail lights shone in a bright red lane all the way down busy highway. very soon, the car was barely moving. the two of you sitting there, stuck, as the clock on the dashboard blinked 11:40. running his hands on the top of the steering wheel, haechan spoke up first. “when did you get so close to mark?” 

“huh?” you’re genuinely confused. “why would you say that.” 

“you’ve just been a lot closer with him recently.” 

“we’ve always been friends.” you don’t want to say anything too cutting, anything that would make the silence in the car too heavy, but there is no other way to put it. “you’ve been busy.” with yeri hangs unspoken in the air — but its true. and you don’t even blame them. if haechan was your boyfriend, you would want to spend every second of the christmas season with him. “mark has just…been there.” 

haechan doesn’t reply to that. the car inches slowly forward. the song that plays from your phone is slow and deep, and when you look at the lights on his face, his eyes unfocused on the road you realise you just want to reach across the seat and wrap your arms around him. 

you think of skipping the song or switching to a christmas radio station, but you can’t bring yourself to ruin it. 

“y/n i.” haechan finally takes a deep breath. “i don’t know if its selfish of me, but i just feel like i’ve been losing you and i don’t know how to be back in your life in the way that we were.” 

the way we were. “haechan, i don’t think the way we were…was very good for us.” 

“what do you mean?” haechan turns, and looks at you. halfheartedly, you point to the road ahead, but the cars aren’t moving, and his eyes are focused on you. 

“have you ever really thought about what we were to each other?” you blame the lights. you blame the song. and you blame the fact that the clock reads 11:49, and you just want to be honest, maybe just for once in this cursed holiday season. “haechan, my life revolved around you. you were everything to me. and all i needed at the end of the day was just, you smiling at me, or you telling me you…” you can’t finish the sentence. you won’t. 

his heart snags on the were. the was. “i didn’t realize.” 

“well it did. and now you’re unhappy because i’m not just waiting for you to reply to my messages, or pick up my calls, because i’m spending time with mark now.” you are picking the entirely wrong fight. the whole argument is wrong, and you know it, but you look stubbornly out at the window. this confrontation was not going to turn into a confession, not when you were both on the way to literally help him kiss someone else. 

“i’m not unhappy.” haechan says, slowly. “i just…” the car behind you honks, and he hurriedly moves the car forward, but soon stops again. traffic on new years eve was impossible. “i lied that day.” you look over at him, unsure what he was talking about. “i didn’t ask yeri out. she asked me out.” 

you take a moment to process this, but it doesn’t really change anything. “okay.”

“and, i guess i never really thought about her that way before. but she just asked, and suddenly i realised that maybe i did like her. it’s weird, it kind of felt like after she asked me out all of our casual conversations in class just took on a different meaning. i’d never even really thought about her that way before, and suddenly it made sense.” 

why was he telling you this ?! you think love truly brings out the worst in people, because you wanted to jump out of the car instantly. you had to be happy for him, and there was no mark to act as a buffer. you’re about to say something, when he continues on. 

“i told you and mark that night because i waited for you to ask me why i really liked her. or really just, i don’t know, help me figure out exactly how i felt about her.” he ran his hand through his hair. “but i guess you just didn’t say anything and i just kind of went with it.” 

“well…” you try to disengage yourself from the situation. it sounded like haechan really valued your opinion, as a friend, and you hadn’t been there for him. “sorry. i guess it just took us by surprise.” you cringe as you realise that by speaking on mark’s behalf, it really did seem as if you were leaving haechan out. “took me by surprise, i mean. well, do you like her?” 

he laughs a little at that. “it’s a bit late for that, isn’t it?” 

“it’s never too late to rethink how you feel about someone.” you say, quietly. 

haechan looks over at you, and it’s his gaze: as if he’s looking for the answer in your eyes, that makes you look away. you glance at the clock, and suddenly you freeze. 11:58. you scramble to put on the radio. “fuck, haechan we’re not gonna make it.” 

“y/n-” 

“you should call yeri and tell her you’re going to be late. she’ll be really mad if you don’t show up. she must be really worried-” 

“y/n, please listen to me.” he takes both hands off the wheel, reaches out and holds your face in his hands. the radio announcer has just flickered on: the countdown has started. “i’m just going to say it. that day in the cafe: i was afraid you knew something. actually, i was afraid you realized that i liked you. every day, i would wait for you to say i love you, because i wanted to have a reason to say it, even if it was to say it back. i thought about how much you cared about me and i thought if i thought about you less, if i payed attention to other people, if i let more people into my life, it would be easier just being your friend." 

‘5!’

“but it’s not.” 

‘4!’

“it didn’t get easier, and i just miss you-”

‘3!’

“-every day because i think-” 

‘2!’

“i really think that…” 

‘1!’ 

and he doesn’t even bother finishing his sentence. he leans in, and kisses you. your head is wiped of everything he just said. you don’t think of yeri, you don’t think of mark, you don’t think about the afternoon at the cafe or that moment you saw under the mistletoe. you’re wrapped up in him, in the smell of his perfume. the graze of his fingertips against your cheek. and you reach out over the console, and wrap your arms around his waist like you always wanted to. 

when you break apart, the radio announcer wishing everyone a happy new year, he mumbles. “didn’t get to finish my confession.” 

you laugh and lean forward, to kiss him again. the cars on the road had all stopped, and you think that maybe the whole universe has been waiting for this moment. “i’ll do it for you. i think i really like you haechan. i think i love you.” 

and you think maybe it’s not so cruel, to sit with your best friend, who you are in love with, and who loves you back, the kiss still buzzing on your lips, as you watch the fireworks in the sky, the voice on the radio singing in the new year.

[starry-hughes]

fireplace snuggling (mackie samoskevich)

day 15 of star’s ficmas

kasey tkachuk x mackie samoskevich (au)

Mackie got into Sunrise late, some rain caused his flight to be delayed. It wasnt Christmas Day or even Christmas Eve but the delayed flight caused him to miss the yearly Tkachuk Christmas skate at wherever arena rink they were in the city for. He had received pictures of Kasey on the bench, not wanting to skate. She hadn’t really skated since her injury that caused her to be terrified of skating, decommitted herself from college and caused the worst family tension.

He tried not to think about how bad of a look it was for him to show up late, especially to Kasey Tkachuk’s parents. Kasey was excited though, she would have waited hours in the airport for her boyfriend. Her older brother, Matthew, was circling around the airport as she waited inside.

Mackie wouldn’t have expected anything less, seeing his girlfriend standing there as he was walking out of the airport. It was a day before Christmas and the airport was crowded, but he immediately spotted his girlfriend, standing in the Charlotte Checkers Christmas sweater he had sent her.

Kasey didn’t want to let go of Mackie as soon as she yanked him into her arms. “I missed you so much,” she practically cried as he hugged her. “I missed you too… hopefully no one is that upset I’m coming in at midnight?”

Kasey grinned, “Oh Matty is pissed, but he can get over it.”

The three got back to the house and Matthew mumbled something about going up to bed, telling Mackie that he better sleep on the couch. “He’s joking,” Kasey reassured. She was full of energy for it being almost one in the morning. “My mom made Matthew get this electric fireplace, she wanted a real one, but we live in Florida,” Kasey dragged her boyfriend over to the fireplace. Mackie sat next to his girlfriend who plopped herself down on the floor. He took the moment to finally kiss her.

Mackie wasn’t sure how long they kissed, but his lips were swollen and his hair tousled. “Kasey, I’m not sleeping with you on the floor of the living room,” Mackie warned as her hands fiddled with the sweatband of his sweatpants. Kasey reached over to grab the remote that controlled the fireplace and the sound of crackling and warmth entered the room.

“I’m hoping they send me back here soon, get to see you more,” Mackie started before yanking a pillow off the couch and laying down on the carpeted living room floor. Kasey was quick to snuggle into his side. “I hope so too,” Kasey played with his chain around his neck, “I like when you’re around.”

The young couple stayed up for another two hours, talking about anything and everything that came to their minds. “Mack?” Kasey whispered when she realized he hadn’t answered her question and looked over to find her boyfriend asleep. She smiled, snuggling into his side and closing her eyes, the sound of the crackling fireplace putting her to sleep.

“Aww they are so cute!” Emma whispered. “I’m going to wake them up,” Matthew said. “Matthew!” Taryn complained. “I’m waking them up.” Matthew stated. “Dude be nice,” Brady said.

Mackie was kicked gently in the leg and his eyes fluttered open. The sun was shining through the windows, it was morning. There was a blanket over the two of them, Mackie has a vague memory of Kasey getting up in the middle of the night to grab a blanket. “Kasey,” Mackie mumbled, “your family is awake.”

He sat up, realizing that the Tkachuk siblings were all stifling laughter and that Chantal and Keith Tkachuk were sitting close to the two on the floor. “Oh… Morning Mr and Mrs Tkachuk, thanks for inviting me to Christmas?”

Kasey woke up, sitting up and rubbing her eyes, her hair was its messy natural curls. “Hi mom, hi dad… So are we decorating cookies today or…”

[indristian]

More weirdly specific König Headcanons

By an austrian for an austrian character

He can hide how drunk he is pretty well, doesn't really start slurring his words and can hold deep conversations, the gig is over as soon as he stands up tho. He starts swaying pretty badly and has walked into more than one lamppost while intoxicated. Has apologized to every lamppost so far much to the amusement of everyone watching.

He isn't very religious but if someone starts praying the rosary in German his autopilot kicks in and he joins in. Same with certain church songs.

Started smoking at age 16 (don't worry, that was the legal age for smoking until like 5 years ago, then the gov changed it to 18) and regularly tries to quit. Nowadays he mostly smokes when stressed or drunk.

Tries to make everyone on his team say "Oachkatzlschwoaf" (means tail of a squirrel in an austrian dialect), refuses to tell anyone the English meaning bc he can't pronounce the word squirrel.

He's kinda choosy about the water he drinks. Water quality in austria is really good, so you can drink the tap water in the whole country. So when he's somewhere where the water is "technically" drinkable, but has a chlorine taste he prefers drinking bottled water.

Every new years eve at midnight he listens to the blue danube waltz, as is tradition in Austria.

There's a pocket in his tac vest that's reserved for Manner Schnitten. The people that saw something pink sticking out of his vest and made fun of him for it never get offered any when he opens a pack.

(Thanks to @court-of-fairytales for reminding me the Sissi movies exist) He has seen all of the movies, in theory, but the only times he has really seen them when he and his friends/teammates were "Sissi saufen" (saufen meaning drinking/binge drinking). It's a drinking game, mostly played around Christmas and new year, where you watch the 3 movies back to back and everytime someone in the movie says "your majesty" everyone has to stand up, say "long live the empress" and take a shot. Last man standing is the winner.

Has no visible tattoos but there's an AMA Gütesiegel stamp on his right buttcheek.

Kinds nsfw: Has absolutely quoted the "Ich will hinten rein!" ("I want in the back!" just with a lot more homoerotic implications) line when asked where he wanted to sit in a car and has gotten strange looks every time. (The movie this reference is from: (T)Raumschiff Surprise)

Kinda nsfw: He really likes talking to people in German (even if they don't really understand him) or teaching someone german words or phrases. The only thing he really hates is dirty talk in german, he'll do it if someone he's sleeping with requests it but he'll keep his face out of their sight bc he'll be 1000% be cringing.

Translates a lot of phrases literally bc the English equivalent "just doesn't have the right feel". Ends up saying things like "They look like a parcel someone ordered but never picked up", "They look like Bambi on stilts", "They have to pay attention like a clothes/shoe maker" ("aufpassen wie ein Haftelmacher", I know it as "aufpassen wie ein Haftelpitscher" but Google doesn't know it 😔) or "It's raining like the sky/like heaven is open".

Every time he sees someone with a Red Bull in their hand he has to resist the urge to say "You know, that's an austrian brand!"

The headcanons just keep coming!

And tbh after the last part I'm really tempted to make a playlist or a post compiling german songs König would get stuck in his head/would listen to. If anyone's interested please tell me!

Part one

Part two

Part four

Part five

Part six

[lilyofthevalleyys]

I love Rosekiller and I think I’ll make a fic rec list about it. Enjoy reading!!

Check the reblogs for more fic recs :)

1. any fic by graveryavery

My summary (MS): seriously, they’re amazing at writing. Have your pick of whichever fic.

Link: graveryavery

2. Drunk on Love by amethyst_citrine

status: 1/1

Summary: Evan Rosier has been in love with his best friend for years. He thinks that every time Barty Crouch Jr. flirts with him, it's just an act, making him roll his eyes and walk away. But maybe Evan is drunk, and thinks it's a good idea to stop running.

MS: Rosekiller at a party. Oh, what could go wrong? These two lovebirds are such idiots honestly

Link: Drunk on Love

3. Midnight Rain by blackmojito

status: 1/1

Summary: In the middle of December, in a house that's not his own, Evan learns the true meaning of warmth.

MS: I love their writing style in its short, sweet way. Also fluffy christmas fics? yes please 🤲

Link: Midnight Rain

4. I’m Not Going To Teach Him How To Dance With You by greensenne

status: 18/18

Summary:

“You’d be my best man wouldn’t you, Evs?

There’s an ugly pain burning low in his chest as he says, “Of course. What are friends for?”

Or, Barty's father forces him into an arranged marriage, and Evan is to be his best man. Which would be fine if Evan weren't head over heels in love with him.

MS: I know, this is a classic and everyone’s heard of it. But for the new people, this is probably a good place to start to get into shipping Rosekiller. And yk, a reread would be good 🤭

Link: The fic bcuz the title is too long

5. Spider-Man: Death Eater Parade by basiliscus

Status: 5/14

Summary: Evan Rosier has been Spider-Man since he was 15 years old and he is tired. He saw it all, he did it all and he hates himself more than any Rita Skeeter ever could. Evan Rosier has seen people die. He let people die. Evan Rosier is tired, his moral code is broken and then a ghost from the past comes to haunt him 5 years after he thought he buried him and sent him off to hell.

Barty Crouch hates Spider-Man. He can't stand the bastard who's willing to let people die when he has the ability to prevent it. Barty spends almost every day on whatever scene Spider-Man goes to. Only break to this routine is an awkward university dropout Evan Rosier that stumbles into his life.

Evan is living a double life as Spider-Man and quite literally hates it. He meets the only person who hates him more than he hates himself.

There's no person on Earth who hates Spider-Man more than Barty. The issue is Barty falls for Evan.

MS: Alright, here’s a Spider-Man alternate au fic with double identities and a enemies to lovers. It is still ongoing though, but love anyway

Link: Spider-Man: Death Eater Parade

6. A Truthful Joke by justreadandwritex

Status: 9/9

Summary: Evan and Barty have been best friends since the age of three. Now they're sixteen, at Hogwarts, surrounded by couples. They joke about it - a lot - but at a certain point, when is it a joke and when is it a desire?

On top of a sexuality crisis and family issues, has to deal with another feeling, or rather feelings. For his best friend.

And while his best friend seems to pull away from him, Barty tries everything in his power to keep Evan in his life. They're best friends after all, right? Just friends. Ha.

*Some chapters will discuss homophobia or family issues but I always give trigger warnings

MS: It’s beautiful and I like it. That’s it.

Link: A Truthful Joke

7. Annoying by godforsaken_mess

Status: 31/31

Summary: barty accidentally texts the wrong number. evan just happens to be the victim.

a texting story that i got the idea to write at 3am so you can expect perfection (sarcasm).

obviously rosekiller is the main ship but i'll shift focus onto the other ones from time to time so that they can happen as well.

more focus on the slytherins ofc but the friend group is split up so please forgive me 🙏

i don't own any of these characters!!

MS: Evan is a little shit here and I love him so it’s fine. Also love a good text fic so just 🫶

Link: Annoying

8. Call It What You Want by lxcuxex

Status: 1/1

Summary:

“Sometimes you two are worse than Regulus and James.”

Evan’s attention immediately snapped towards Dorcas who paused mid bite, “What? It’s true. You’re bickering like a married couple.”

Barty simply grinned, leaning forward. “Our fifth anniversary is coming up isn’t it my sweet Evan? Shall we go on a trip, love? Perhaps the countryside?” He suggested, watching as Evan’s face flushed a pink, bright on his freckled cheeks.

or

The one where Barty and Evan are too clueless to realize they are basically boyfriends.

MS: The last part of the summary is so true though. Anyway, love this fic and idk how many times i’ve reread it

Link: Call It What You Want

9. One got shot and the other got lost by All_for_the_andreil

Status: 1/1

Summary:

“Barty, what the fuck?”

-or-

Barty Crouch Jr. slowly losing his mind when he thinks Evan is dead and then being his psychotic self when he finds out he's being held hostage instead

TW: Blood and violence

MS: Look, I know I said I love a lot of the fics here but this one might take the cake. I love psycho Rosekiller even more than I love fluffy Rosekiller. If you look carefully, you’ll notice this may be the only crazy, semi-canon fic in this rec list, so yes.

Link: Too long title that I’m lazy to type

10. don’t want none of this (good times all times) by cherryknots

Status: 1/1

Summary:

“They’re messing with you both,” Lily whispered in his ear, and he had to lean in close to hear her over the cheers that were louder now as the kisses around the circle grew sloppier with each couple.

“Hm?” Evan blinked, still staring at the spot that had been previously occupied by Sirius. He was long gone now.

“Sirius and Barty,” Lily clarified patiently. “They got you and Remus right where they wanted you. I think that Sirius is currently… making it up to Remus right now in the dorm…"

Evan lifted his eyes back to Barty, who was still staring at him. At how close he was to Lily, a frown deepening on his face.

Oh?

So that’s what this was?

A small smile grew on Evan’s face, and he nodded in understanding. If Barty wanted to play, then Evan would, too.

or, Evan is dragged to another Gryffindor party, and to his dismay, Barty has to kiss Sirius Black during Spin the Bottle.

MS: Evan flirting back to Barty? Are you serious? Yes please. *snatches it and consumes greedily* but anyway, it’s a short fic about them messing with each other, although I have no idea why they would want to do that but yk, ok

Link: Too long title yet again

11. The Very First Night by constellationgrayson

Status: 1/1

Summary: Barty is a detective. Evan is a jewel thief.

But Barty wasn't always a detective, and one look from Evan is making him wonder if his new life is really as fulfilling as he wants it to be.

MS: A somewhat forbidden romance and I am insanely grateful to the author for making it a fade to black kinda scene at one point. Or maybe I just skipped it I can’t remember.

Link: The Very First Night

12. We Found Wonderland by kazsbf

Status: 1/1

Summary:

"Barty never liked closed captions before he met Evan. He hated the idea of having to read something he was meant to be watching, but he learned to love having closed captions automatically turned on for all his devices. He even had them set to automatic on his phone just in case Evan wanted to watch something when they were in the car or the library. He liked seeing Evan's eyes light up when he didn't have to turn them on and make accommodations for himself--they were already there for him."

MS: In other words: Evan is deaf and Barty arranges a date for them that accommodates his disability 🫶 Barty being the sweetest boyfriend

Link: We Found Wonderland

13. remember that night by regulvrs

Status: 1/1

Summary: Evan and Barty share their first kiss. The only problem? Barty doesn't remember it. And that ruins Evan.

MS: Angst with a happy ending! I wanted to throw something at Barty to knock some sense into him but tbf to him, he was drunk, though I have no idea how it works having never drank before or see someone truly drunk but ok

Link: remember that night

14. Sparks fly by bluesofacushion

Status: 1/1

Summary: Evan is head over heels in love with one of his best friends. What can he do? It’s not like Barty likes him back. He is fully determined to keep his secret with him to the grave but Pandora has other plans.

Based on ‘Sparks Fly’ by Taylor Swift so it’s mostly just fluff

MS: It is a sweet fic that is yes, mostly fluff

Link: Sparks fly

15. gods & monsters by littleredpartydress

Status: 1/1

Summary:

“Barty, can we talk?” Evan asked.

Fuck. Is it serious? He couldn’t talk to Evan about something serious right now.

“It’s private so, uh, do you mind following me?”

Of course he minded.

“Sure,” Barty agreed.

OR

Barty and Evan get together after Evan is encouraged by Pandora.

MS: Pandora being the matchmaker here is beautiful

Link: gods & monsters

16. To Be Seen by twoclosetothestars

Status: 1/1

Summary:

“Well, how long have you liked me for?” Evan asks.

“Since when I stayed at your house for summer break before fourth year,” Barty confesses.

“So really you have no room to judge because you didn't mention anything either!” Evan points out.

“Whatever,” Barty grumbles. “We’re both idiots. Now can we get to the part where we kiss because I’m really looking forward to that part?”

“I’m an idiot now, am I?”

“Yes,” Barty agrees. “An annoyingly beautiful, funny, smart, amazing idiot who I’d really like to kiss right now.”

“Sweet talker,” Evan teases, and then his lips are on Barty’s.

MS: They are idiots in love, your honor

Link: To Be Seen

17. All for you by dramaticwitchbitch

Status: 1/1

Summary: Evan was pining. He knew he was. But simply knowing that did not make him feels less pathetic. It should be impossible to fall on love with one’s best friend. But Evan’s poor heart had gone and done it anyway. Barty, of course, was wholly oblivious to Evans pining. Evan supposed it was a blessing anyway. He wasn’t sure if their friendship would survive the thing.

The thing, was what Evan called is quiet obsession with Barty that threatened to burst put into a huge love confession along the lines of, love me like I love you, let’s grow old together; every time Barty smiled at him. Or flirted with him. Or just sat next to him, smelling sinfully good. Or just existing in Evan’s vicinity. Evan had it bad.

MS: Rose is down so bad and so is Bee

Link: All for you

Hope you enjoyed reading all of them :) and surprise surprise, there are more fics that I have yet to read so i’ll most likely be adding on to this :D

[alwaysbethewest]

Kingsman fic: That's You for Me

Folks, you know that thing where you see a cowboy and you think, he's cute and all, but what if I wrote him as troubled and sad on New Year's Eve? Well—

Title: That's You for Me Pairing: Agent Whiskey/f!Reader Rating: Mature Word Count: 1.8k Content/warnings: alcohol, lingerie, a maudlin cowboy, established relationship, mundanity, softness, lap sitting, neither plot nor porn, kind of emotional hurt/comfort I guess? Reader is mostly blank slate but is described as having cleavage. Unbetaed but as always thank you to @mourningbirds1 and @fleetwoodmactshirt for being my sounding boards and cheerleaders 💞

It’s raining out, and the backseat of this car is a welcome refuge, warm and dry and clean. The driver has K-LOVE playing on the radio—quiet, contemporary love songs to Jesus after dark—and you wonder if he sees you as a soul in need of saving. You probably look the part—eye makeup overdone and smudged by now, and cleavage peeking out from under your coat. You’re buzzed on good champagne and mid-shelf vodka and you meet his eyes in the rearview mirror and give him a smile, because you can’t help it, because it’s New Year’s Eve and you’re filled with a sense of warmth and goodwill toward your fellow man.

Your own man had stayed home tonight, claiming a pile of work needed his attention, and the tone of his voice had told you it was an excuse, and the look on his face had told you not to push it, so you didn’t. The party was fun, even without him on your arm, but the want of him had been tugging you back home all evening and you’d bowed out well before midnight and summoned a cab.

The house is quiet, lit just enough for you to slip off your shoes and pick your way through the foyer and down the hall to the bedroom. You’re expecting him there, dozing already or relaxing with a book, ready to draw you in close and ring in the new year.

The bedroom is empty.

You wander through the house, making a detour to the kitchen for a glass of water and a plate of leftover iced sugar cookies from Christmas, and eventually you find Jack in the only place he ever could have been—his study.

It’s his favorite room in the house, the only one untouched by hired decorators or exes or you. It’s dark, and warm, and simple yet plush. His desk is massive, and he cuts an imposing figure behind it when he wants to. This room is designed to intimidate visitors as much as it is to suit himself.

Tonight, his posture is slumped in the sturdy desk chair, body half illuminated by the Tiffany-style table lamp to his right. The door is open, and you’re on bare feet, but he still catches you coming in and glances at his watch as he straightens upright.

“You’re back early,” he observes. “Welcome home.”

“Thank you.”

Under your feet, the carpet is soft. You dig your toes into the threads as you walk towards him, enjoying the sensation. You still have your coat on, and it makes you feel sexy, like showing up in nothing but a trench coat, even though you’re fully dressed. You pause by the side of his desk to set down your treats and make a show of slipping off the coat.

Jack pushes his chair back from the desk, leaning back, and looks you up and down. “Well, well, well. Those legs go all the way down to the floor, now don’t they.”

“Well, well, well,” you drawl, with a laugh, “where else would they go, honey?”

He waggles his eyebrows. “I can think of a few places.”

“Very clever,” you tell him dryly, but the champagne bubbling through your system must be impairing your judgment because you feel genuinely amused and can’t hold back a smile.

You slip in front of his chair, perching against the edge of the desk, and he swivels to face you head on, letting his gaze linger on your thighs where your hem is riding high. He’s taken by the sight, distracted from whatever he’d been at before you came in, but there’s a tightness around his eyes that you recognize, that you know won’t dissipate all that easy.

You cock your head, listening to the music he’s got playing quietly on the stereo system. It’s a woman’s voice, high-pitched and full of heartache, singing a song that you can’t quite place. It would sound sad even if you couldn’t make out the words.

“Tammy?” you ask. His eyes travel up to meet your own and he looks a little sheepish. He knows that you, more than anyone, can see right through him.

“She’s been keeping me company.”

You lift one foot and rub it against his ankle. He feels far away from you still, despite sitting right there.

“I would’ve stayed home with you,” you tell him.

He’s silent for a beat.

“I wanted you to have fun,” he says. He reaches past you to pick up the glass of whiskey on his desk, and then rolls in closer so you’re nearly touching.

You open your legs for him, making room for his knees between yours. He rests his left hand, broad and warm, on the bare expanse of your thigh, and takes a slow sip of his drink.

“Tell me about the party,” he says.

You brush your fingers over his knuckles, drifting your eyes down his body. He’s wearing a soft, dark blue cashmere sweater and well-fitting charcoal trousers. It’s an elegant look for lounging around the house, and for a moment you find yourself wishing he’d come with you tonight, just for the image you would’ve struck together, his subdued, clean lines and your sparkly, low-cut dress.

“It was fun,” you tell him. “Trace and Geri were there. They were sorry not to see you.”

He shifts his jaw, thoughtfully.

“I told them you had pressing work to take care of,” you assure him. “They understood. Geri said she’ll find a date to have us over for dinner soon. Just the four of us.”

He nods.

“Linda brought her new boyfriend,” you continue. “You would’ve hated him.”

Jack laughs, surprised. “Why’s that?”

You shrug. “Call it intuition.”

Call it the fact that the young man in question was clearly coked up all night, more like, but telling Jack that would ruin the good mood you’re trying to coax him into.

He makes a skeptical sound and slides his hand an inch higher, fingertips threatening to edge under the hem of your dress.

“What brought you home so early?” he asks. “I thought you’d be out past midnight.”

“The catering was no good,” you tell him. “And the music was too loud. And… I just thought—I would rather be here with you, anyway.”

He smiles, and shakes his head a little, like he doesn’t agree with your decision-making but appreciates the sentiment nonetheless. You reach your hand out to cup his jaw, brushing your thumb along his chin and up to the corner of his mouth, and you lean in closer, carefully, so he has nowhere to look but at you.

“Jack,” you whisper. “This is always where I’d rather be.”

He blinks, and you see something shift in his face—that tightness he’d been trying to mask momentarily relaxing away—a break in the self-punishing armor he’s put on tonight to keep everyone out. You’ve given him a statement of truth and he’s absorbing it now, reckoning with it, feeling the unhappy lies he’s told himself being tilted on their heads. He inhales, swallows hard, closes his eyes for a long moment. When he opens them again his face has gone a little softer, tension fading into relief, confusion turning to acceptance.

“Come here,” he murmurs, tugging at your hips.

He pulls you into his lap, straddling his thighs. Your dress rides up indecently and the space between you is shrouded dark and silky—his trouser fabric soft under your thighs and brushing through the thin layer of your underwear. His hands span across your back, holding you close and secure, and he tips his head up to press a kiss under your jawline before leaning forward and down to nose into the valley of your cleavage. He rests there for a long moment, just breathing in slowly, angling his head to arch into it when you scratch your fingers lightly into the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Nice perfume,” he says, muffled slightly against your chest.

“You gave it to me,” you remind him.

He hums, a self-satisfied sound. “I guess I have good taste.”

“I guess you do.”

He pulls upright again to look at you, and opens his mouth to say something, then hesitates. You wait him out, fingers still massaging at the back of his head, and after a moment he has that sheepish look again, see-through, like he’s remembering there’s no use hiding if it is from you.

“Thank you for choosing me,” he says quietly.

You feel something deep in your chest, a swell of tender affection for him overtaking you.

“Thank you for being everything I need,” you say.

He doesn’t shake his head this time. He searches your face, seeing the truth of it, and gives you a small, sincere smile.

He glances at his watch again.

“It’s only eleven. You want me to help keep you awake until midnight?”

“Yes please.”

“There’s a catch,” he warns you. You raise an eyebrow. “You have to take off this dress,” he says disapprovingly. “You look—incredibly sexy, but—those sequins are scratchy as a briar patch. I want to feel you.”

You laugh and gesture over your shoulder. “The zipper is right there, baby.” His hands are reaching for it before your sentence is complete, and your laughter at his haste gets lost in the slinky fabric pulling over your head as he takes the dress off you. He tosses it onto the desk and runs his hands down your sides, giving you a low whistle.

“That’s much better,” he says. “I guess I have good taste in lingerie, too.”

It’s warm in the study, and surprisingly comfortable sitting astride his lap in nothing but your bra and panties. He wasn’t wrong about the scratch of the sequins and how much nicer it is to touch your soft, bare skin. You lean forward, experimentally, and press your body to his, enjoying the luxurious feel of his cashmere sweater. You can smell the whiskey on his breath, pairing with your own warmly scented perfume, perfect complements to each other.

“I have a proposition for you,” you say.

“I like the sound of that.” He palms your ass and squeezes with intent.

“I’ll trade you one of my cookies for a sip of your whiskey.”

“A cookie—” He shifts under you, glancing around to find your plate of Christmas cookies. “Sugar, this is a two hundred dollar bottle of liquor. That’s just not a fair trade.”

You pull away, shooting him a small mock frown. “Two cookies, then.”

He looks calculating. “One cookie,” he says, holding up a finger, “and two kisses.”

“It’s really two hundred dollars?” you ask, and he nods. “Alright,” you decide. “One cookie, two kisses, and I’m going to throw in another one for free.”

“You’re a terrible negotiator,” he observes, but he doesn’t seem to mind it when you lean in for your kiss, and you don’t mind it either that you only get your whiskey half a dozen kisses later.

(teensy tiny tag list for this one: @loversandantiheroes, @pedrostories, @littlemisspascal, @thirstworldproblemss, @knittingqueen13)

[somekindofadeviant]

The snow recently cleared up here and even the ice is gone, only dreary rain remains. Who knows what the coming weeks will bring. Here are some Wintery recs to sip a mulled sommelier to. Also some Christmas ones, 'tis the time for family after all. Warning: Some of these fics are hosted on old archives, warnings may be absent or non-exhaustive. They may contain noncon and torture and oodles of murders. If you want detailed or specific warnings for a fic, please DM me or ask in the notes.

The Whole Family

A Winter's Tale by Coquette - Gorgeously descriptive and evocative. Viscerally captures the feeling of the freezing depths of Winter. Rating: Explicit, Era: Victorian House-Guests From Hell And How To Send Them Back There by Glassdarkly - The family have guests for Christmas. It goes about as well as you'd expect. Deliciously funny. Rating: Teen+, Era: Victorian The Perfect Present by Glassdarkly - A lil Christmas shopping. Rating: Teen+, Era: Victorian Charity Begins At Home by Glassdarkly - The fam doing good deeds for Gurnenthar's Ascendance. Spike's enjoying himself enormously. Rating: Teen+, Era: Victorian

The Party by whichclothes - When Darla and Drusilla decide to host a Christmas party, that new fledge just will not behave. It's up to Angelus to teach him a lesson. Tagged Spangelus, but the whole family is involved in the torment and fun. Rating: Explicit, Era: Victorian

William's First Death Day by Hello Spikey - A winter deathday party with presents and spankings, oh my! Delightfully fluffy. Rating: Mature, Era: Victorian

Red as Any Blood by Cornerofmadness - Christmas carols and fruitcake, can vampires survive it? Rating: Teen+, Era: Victorian

Skating Lessons by trixiefatcat - A wonderfully silly bit of fun. The family go ice skating and the men face their fiercest foe yet: a frozen pond. Rating: Mature(ish), Era: Victorian

Poached Pairs

Affectations by Chrystler - While Angel is hanging - literally - in LA, his sire is an entire continent away. And hating every New York minute. Rating: Mature, Pairing: Past Angel/Darla, Era: 1952

Equinox: Winter by Kita - Angel ponders four ways to lose his soul to the Seasons. Takes place right after Reprisal but before Epiphany. Rating: Mature, Pairing: Angel/Darla (other pairings in the other seasons), Era: A:tS Season 2

24 Hour Midnight by Rebcake - A little stay in The Icehotel. Rating: Teen+, Pairing: Drusilla/Spike, Era: 1996 Nothing to Dread by Rebcake - It's Christmas Eve a month after Buffy dropped an organ on him, and Spike still isn’t feeling it. Rating: Explicit, Pairing: Drusilla/Spike, Era: BtVS Season 2 Just a Couple of Misfits by Rebcake - A Sprusilla crossover with Rankin Bass's Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer. Rating: Teen+, Pairing: Drusilla/Spike, Era: Vague but Pre-Series

Home by Writtenbyfates - A sweet moment of contentment together in St Petersburg. Rating: Explicit, Pairing: Drusilla/Spike, Era: Victorian

It's A Christmas Miracle! by Laure Alexander -  Set after the church collapsed on him, Spike isn't recovering and it's Christmas time trapped in a musty basement in Sunnyhell. Rating: Mature, Pairing: Drusilla/Spike, Era: BtVS Season 2 Every Day With Her Is Like Christmas by Laure Alexander - Spike brings Drusilla her Christmas presents Rating: Explicit, Pairing: Drusilla/Spike, Era: 1970s or 1980s

The Gold Wrapped Box by duh_i_read - There's a bit of a mix-up at the department store. Woops. Rating: Teen+, Pairing: Drusilla/Spike, Era: Vague but Pre-Series

Waiting For Alice by thawrecka - He is not afraid. She is not bothered. It is not real. I don't know that this really fits the theme, except that the cold ice and wind is so very bitter and it's all so very chilling. Rating: Teen+, Pairing: Darla/Spike, Era: A:tS Season 5

The Tranquility of Christmas by Kindredspirit75 - Angelus celebrates Christmas with the younger members of the family. Gory cute fluff. Pairing: Angelus/Drusilla/Spike, Era: Victorian

The Truce by Glassdarkly - It's Christmas - a time for giving, and for old enemies (or should that be frenemies?) to bury the hatchet. Temporarily, at least. Rating: Explicit, Pairing: Angel/Spike, Era: A:tS Season 5

Twas the Night Before Xmas Spangel Style by vamptasticA - This poem is cute as heck Rating: Explicit(ish), Pairing: Angel/Spike, Era: A:tS Season 5

Strictly Come Vampires by fenderlove - Angel is forced to participate as Wolfram and Hart's representative in a charity event on New Year's Eve. Can Spike help him not make a fool out of himself? Rating: Explicit, Pairing, Angel/Spike, Era: AU from A:tS Season 5

Shining + Santa and his Blue Elf by Acacia5 - Some adorable Christmas fun, a lil double drabble with Spike subjecting himself to torment, then a ficlet of hijinks at the mall. Rating: Teen+, Pairing: Angel/Spike and Spike+Ilyria, Era: A:tS Season 5

Slip a Sable Under the Tree by Janet Lynn - The boys show each other a lil Christmas spirit. Rating: Explicit, Pairing: Angelus/Spike, Era: BtVS Season 2 A Merry Bloody Christmas by Singedbylife - Spike is facing yet another Christmas all alone. Rating: Teen+, Pairing: Angel/Spike, Era: Post-Series

History Repeats Itself? by snogged - A lovely little drabble. Spike and Angel repeat their “first time.” Rating: Mature, Pairing: Angel/Spike, Era: Unstated

Slice of Time by Josey - A delightful whiling away of time by the fireplace. Rating: Explicit, Pairing: Angelus/Will, Era: Victorian

Stranger Things Have Happened by Estepheia - Christmas 2001, Spike and Angel bury the hatchet. Rating: Mature, Pairing: Angel/Spike, Era: BtVS Season 6 Nothing Else Matters by Estepheia - 6 weeks after Christmas, a bruised and beaten Spike visits Angel. The sequel to Stranger Things Have Happened. Rating: Mature, Pairing: Angel/Spike, Era: BtVS Season 6

[studywgabi]

The Fucking Holidays

I'm nothing if not a copycat, boring, cliche. I want the corny matching pajamas. I want the naughty gifts. I want the making love by the fireplace. I want to be unwrapped under huge wood. I want to be proposed to on Christmas morning. I want to watch fucking Tommy and fucking Ellie, 7 and 5, respectively, tear open the wrapping paper to reveal the present I told them I wasn't going to buy while I smugly sip my coffee out of a mug that says some stupid fucking saying like "World's Okayest Maternal Figure." I want to bring someone home for Christmas. I don't want to show up on my parents' doorstep like some fucking sad little wet cat hiding from the rain in a cardboard box. A cat that also happens to be horny and hungover. I wonder what cats would be like drunk.

It's the holidays. How nice.

Fucking shoot me.

Money's tight right now but I want to save to get you a nice gift. But I want it to be something you actually want and will use. Ugh, men are so hard to shop for. Mom and I always get each other some dumb little thing that smells good and we love it. My dad and brother? A crapshoot every year. Is it too early to introduce you to them? Probably.

There's a million holiday parties that I don't want to go to alone. I want to force you to watch The Holiday with me. I want to bake cookies for you and absolutely destroy you in a snowball fight. God, I'm so childish. Maybe that's why you're still not here. You're too mature for me.

I want you to tell me how pretty I look blushing splotchy red from the cold and with snow in my hair. I want you to kiss me on New Year's Eve because you want to spend the next year with me. I never make it until midnight though. I'm out like a light by 10:30. And when I wake up, it's a new year, and I'm older, and I'm still alone.

Maybe during the school break we could go to Canada for a week. I wonder if Canadian teenagers go moose-tipping, but they're probably too nice for that.

I wish you were here. God, I really, really wish you were here.

[striveattemptfail]

And all I see is you (because you're near me) | MidoTaka, G, 1.7k

Summary: Ironically, he was looking forward to his shift on New Year’s Eve. He wouldn’t have to deal with the chaos of the New Year crowds. Barring an emergency, he knew he had no surgeries planned for midnight, and was likely going to ring in the New Year in his office, writing away at medical reports... His partner, predictably, had taken the day off after working tirelessly for weeks to put in enough hours so that it would be near impossible to call him in. When Shintarou explained his New Year plans, Kazunari (also predictably) whined at him. Read on Ao3

A/N: For the @knbexchange. Takes place post-canon, well into adulthood when Midorima is a surgeon and Takao is a nurse. The two got together in high school and have stayed together ever since.

A late gift because Midorima wanted to be stubborn. I hope you enjoy it anyway, @just-a-re-blog~!

Title from Thank You by Dido. Thank you to @imaginarydragonling for the speedy beta and being so understanding<3 Any other mistakes are mine.

~🎊~🎊~🎊~🎊~🎊~

Shintarou was not working late that night—a miracle of miracles. The hospital tended to either fill up because of the holiday season with increased traffic and flu spread, or (though rather rarely) die down considerably because people simply wanted to be out and about or at home celebrating. This year, somehow, it ended up being the latter. So, he left for home after his 1.5 days shift at just before three in the afternoon, saying a gruff goodbye to his colleagues and slipping his jacket on before leaving.

He glared once he exited the hospital doors—it was pouring rain. Not quite a thunderstorm, but heavy rainfall nonetheless. Opening his umbrella, he silently thanked his past self for having the foresight to always have one on hand.

The train ride back to his apartment was dreary. Despite the relative calm at the hospital, the trains were still busy as ever. This was compounded by the fact that the weather was gloomier than normal. The snowfall from Christmas was already being washed away by the unexpected rainfall. It simply made everything slushy, the once beautiful piles of snow now darkened with mucky rainwater and muddy footsteps.

Not that Shintarou really bothered to notice such trivial things in his day-to-day life unless Oha-Asa said so. Today, Cancer ranked 6th place—while not ideal, still much better than the latter half of the chart beneath his standing.

Still, despite his mediocre ranking, he did think the day could have been helped with some sunshine, or at least a little less rain to trudge through on his commute home.

Of course, all this was despite the bright and cheery music and decorations surrounding him. It was the liminal period between Christmas and New Year, and though the Christmas ornaments had quickly been taken down, there were already festival lights and decorations hung up in its place.

Ironically, he was looking forward to his shift on New Year’s Eve. He wouldn’t have to deal with the chaos of the New Year crowds. Barring an emergency, he knew he had no surgeries planned for midnight, and was likely going to ring in the New Year in his office, writing away at medical reports.

He continued thinking about the New Year’s Eve ahead as he stepped off his first train and onto the platform. Making his way through station corridors, he eventually found his way to the bus stop for his final ride home.

Eventually his mind wandered to what Kazunari would be celebrating the New Year. His partner, predictably, had taken the day off after working tirelessly for weeks to put in enough hours so that it would be near impossible to call him in. When Shintarou explained his New Year plans, Kazunari (also predictably) whined at him.

“Such a spoilsport, Shin-chan!” he groaned.

“For what? Being reasonable and avoiding hellish crowds of people?” Shintarou had retorted.

Kazunari rolled his eyes. “We’re supposed to be partners.” Just as Shintarou was going to ask what their relationship had to do with New Year’s Eve, he continued, “It would be nice to spend a holiday together, you know?”

Now Shintarou rolled his eyes. “We already spend many holidays together, and we’re also planning to go to the shrine the next day. What’s one New Year’s Eve?”

Kazunari sighed, grumbling something under his breath that Shintarou couldn’t catch, and dropped the conversation.

But Shintarou had grown up since high school, had learned how to read his boyfriend’s moods and attitudes over the years. It took him a brief moment to realize that Kazunari likely wanted to have a romantic evening together, regardless if they participated in the hectic celebrations or not.

It was, after all, their first year living together. It unfortunately occurred to him a bit too late that the milestone was usually an important one for couples.

He had yet to figure out how to make up for disappointing his partner. He spoke to Kazunari shortly after their discussion, and promptly bought a lavish Christmas present to aid his attempts at mending his lack of forethought. His boyfriend did very much enjoy the new jacket and basketball jersey Shintarou had splurged on for him.

He thought about this when he finally stepped off the bus, re-opening his umbrella and dragging his shoes through muddy slush once more as he made his way to his and Kazunari’s apartment.

(They lived two floors below the penthouse, which Shintarou could have easily afforded on his own with his salary, but Kazunari insisted they split the rent, and they compromised with their current apartment. His partner could be so picky sometimes, though Shintarou knew that was hypocritical coming from himself.)

As he made his way down the block and into the building, Shintarou wondered how he could make up for the faux pas regarding his shift. He still knew that he had to do more than give his boyfriend (admittedly expensive) gifts.

He was so deep in thought he barely registered that he had finally made it home, punching in the code at the door out of habit and opening it with a frown.

He was finally pulled out of his reverie when Kazunari spoke.

“Welcome home, Shin-cha—hey, are you okay?” His partner appeared before him with a towel in hand, a concerned look growing on his face.

“Eh?” Shintarou finally looked around him; he was standing in the genkan, shaking his umbrella. He shook his head—both as an answer and to clear his mind. “No, I’m fine.”

Kazunari simply furrowed his brows even more, not quite believing his hasty answer. Fair, because as Shintarou had learned so much about Kazunari, Kazunari learned just as much in return.

“I’m fine, in fact,” he repeated. Mustering up the smallest of smiles, he finally greeted, “I’m home.”

At that, Kazunari softened. “Welcome back.”

Shintarou toed off his shoes, sniffing the air, pleased to notice the delightfully sweet scent permeating the apartment.

“Are you cooking something?” he asked, setting his umbrella and work bag aside and sliding out of his winter gear. “It smells pleasant.”

“Mhm!” Takao answered, passing the towel to him before walking towards the kitchen. “I’m making hot chocolate right now and warming up some pancakes I bought earlier.”

Shintarou followed him into their home as he dried himself off, surveying the spread. On the table were two fat pancakes drizzled in syrup from a local bakery, already out of their take-out container and served on a plate. A pot on the stove was indeed boiling something brown and decadent. Shintarou pursed his lips as Kazunari brought down matching mugs from the cabinet but didn’t make any comment. He always thought couples items were tacky, but they made Kazunari happy, so he kept any remarks he had to himself, quietly stirring the pot and smelling the sweet aroma of chocolate.

“I decided to skip the instant stuff,” Kazunari explained. “Since I got the fancy pancakes, we can have a nice afternoon together before I start on dinner.”

Shintarou was pleasantly surprised, but nodded nonetheless. He wasn’t going to say no to spending some quiet downtime with his boyfriend.

And, indeed, they spent the hours before nightfall splitting one of the pancakes Kazunari had bought. Though Shintarou remarked (grumbled) that the sweets would ruin their appetite, he still went along with his boyfriend’s plan. They were only able to finish one pancake, planning to save the second one for dessert or as part of breakfast tomorrow. They sipped their hot chocolate in between casual discussions about their friends, basketball, whether their schedules would sync up once Kazunari’s holiday ended. The rain outside eventually calmed down from a pouring shower to a soft drizzle, the tapping sound of raindrops a soothing noise amidst their quiet conversation at the table.

This, he eventually realized—the quiet, the domesticity, the literal sweetness of the chocolate on his lips—was all that Kazunari wanted to welcome the New Year together.

So Shintarou had to ask: “Is this to make up for the fact that I’m working on New Year’s?”

This startled Kazunari (which was understandable, since he was gossiping about his coworkers’ love lives just a moment ago), but after a moment he sheepishly admitted, “Yeah.”

Shintarou nodded, narrowing his gaze down to the near-empty mug of hot chocolate in his hands.

“I see.”

Looking up once more, he could tell that Kazunari was trying to hide his uneasiness, so Shintarou reached forward, clasping their hands together. His partner accepted, fingers clutching him gently.

“I’m still sorry that I am working that night, and that I didn’t understand why it was so important to you at first,” Shintarou admitted, “and, in fact, I apologize that you set this up for us. I believe I should have been the one to do it, since it was my error.”

“No, Shin-chan, it’s fine—”

“It isn’t,” he interrupted calmly, but firmly, “so I appreciate that you have prepared this nonetheless.”

Kazunari stared at him with a tender expression. His smile was small but visible, his eyes soft, brimming with what Shintarou assumed was a combination of surprise, pride, and affection.

His cheeks burned at the observation. He darted his eyes away before he did something embarrassing like blurt out “I love you” the way he did when he confessed his crush on his basketball partner all those years ago in high school.

Finally, an idea popped in his head.

Clearing his throat, he said, “I cannot move my shift, but I may be able to change my schedule so we can have a few days together after our first shrine visit.”

Meeting Kazunari’s eyes once more, he was pleased to find his partner too stunned to speak.

“Are you sure, Shin-chan?” he asked, but Shintarou could so easily hear the hope in his voice. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to.” He kept his gaze steady on Kazunari’s. “It is the least I can do, especially since you’ve already done this—” he gestured at the pancakes and hot chocolate, “—for us today.”

His partner’s wide grin was worth his monotonous days at work, every glum step towards home. Despite the weather, despite his mistakes, there was nothing more Shintarou could possibly need than this moment with Kazunari.

~🎊~🎊~🎊~🎊~🎊~

BONUS: Midorima plans a trip to a hotspring about a week after New Year’s. He and Takao talk some more, take silly photos and bitch about said photos, and just enjoy themselves. Somehow, they also find a public basketball court and shoot a couple of hoops. Overall, 10/10 would do again. (“Hopefully next time on an actual holiday, Shin-chan.” “Shut up, nodayo.”)

[fanfic-corner]

Lesser Known Destiel Fics pt 3

You guys really liked the last list... so here are some more lesser known Destiel fics! This time, we're doing ones with less than 10k hits :)

You Deserve To Be Loved by sandean_cas (1k)

Castiel senses Dean's longing and meets him on the bridge.

Loving Castiel by dinluke (1.9k)

“How did you find me?” Dean asks. Castiel squints and looks at him like he’s the sun.

“Your, uh, yearning was pretty loud,” he says sheepishly.

Mister Scarecrow Hates Halloween by Carrieosity (3.1k)

Castiel hates Halloween, so being roped into working in costume at a pumpkin patch has him seething in misery. And now, of all things, the object of his unrequited crush is walking toward him, and Cas is praying the costume will hide him just a bit longer.

Boneless Wings by PallasPerilous (4.3k)

For those of you perving along at home, Dean could absolutely provide a list of the hundred or so ways that having a boyfriend with giant fucking actual wings is super hot and/or awesome.

This is not that list.

Grace by july_19th_club (5.1k)

A man dies. What happens next will shock you.

a covenant of salt by museaway (5.1k)

They didn’t put up a tree on Cas’s first Christmas in the bunker.

Enhanced Extraction Techniques by goldenraeofsun (5.7k)

The Empty takes Meg’s shape, Samandriel’s, Duma’s, every one of the thousands of angels Cas killed up in heaven. But in the middle of lecturing Cas in the form of Balthazar, it explodes in a burst of light and sound.

Dean Winchester stands in the aftermath.

New All Over Again by Castielslostwings (5.7k)

Dean and Cas as childhood sweethearts separated as teenagers who have been searching for each other for years without success. Against all odds, they reunite in the middle of Times Square at midnight on New Year’s Eve.

The Cry of Elisha after Elijah by intothesilentland (5.8k)

The kicker is, Dean had been trying to live.

Really live. And not bite out in anger at the fraying of his heart: Cas, gone, Jack, gone—all that was left was him and his brother, and Dean had been trying to live, in spite, in light of that.

In a world like the unsteady first steps of a child, apprehensive arms and hands cradling the air around them, ready for a slip, excited for a step, Dean had been trying to walk forward, too. Though every step had meant every pain.

Upon his death, and arrival in heaven, Dean sets out to find the angel. He has to tell him. Cas has to know.

(un)conventional by imogenbynight (6.1k)

Spec Lit Con--Speckly Con, to it’s regular attendees--is an annual weekend-long event held in Chicago, dedicated to science fiction, fantasy and otherwise speculative literature. This year Dean's favorite author, C.J. Novak, is appearing as a panelist. Naturally, he shells out the cash for an all access pass.

Event Horizon by Winglesss (6.4k)

Castiel couldn't have helped his sister. That's why being offered a chance to help somebody else dealing with suicidal thoughts he took it without hesitation.

When he gets the first text from someone who needs his help, nothing goes as he expected.

My Own Little World by tale_to_tell (6.8k)

Castiel stumbles into a local café in order to avoid the rain, and during the process he meets a very attractive barista by the name of Dean Winchester. It doesn't take long for Castiel to fall in love with Dean's wit and charm.

Too bad that Dean has a boyfriend.

Lost and Found by whelvenwings (7.7k)

“Chuck Shurley? Sure, I’ve read his books. Kinda Vonnegut, but like, Kilgore-Trout Vonnegut, you know?” Dean took another gulp of his whisky, and smacked his lips like an adult. The guy sitting beside him at the bar, however, did not look suitably impressed. In fact, he was staring down into the bubbles of his cider, not even noticing the way that Dean was smiling at him, giving him the eyes.

“I thought his stuff was pretty good, in a kinda metamodern way,” Dean added airily, and a little more loudly.

The guy only nodded gloomily. Dean almost clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth in frustration. C’mon, dude, I’m trying to impress you. Twenty minutes of talking and all Dean had to show for it was a weird first name, a series of dour stares and the strangest need to know more about this – Castiel.

In the House of the Rising Bun by starryiedd (9k)

Dean Winchester only has three rules concerning the cafe he and his brother Sam own, "House of the Rising Bun".

1. Any and all opportunities to make a pun will be taken.

2. Free regular coffee with your student ID (If you want some of that fancy nonsense you gotta pay, sorry kids).

3. Anyone and everyone is always welcome.

Between Dean running the shop full-time and Sam helping out whenever he isn't in class, there really isn't a whole lot of time for romance for either of them. But that all changes when they gain a new regular - some writer from London - who may or may not have the bluest eyes Dean's ever seen.

Once Upon a Time in a Christmas Bakery by noxsoulmate (10k)

What would Christmas Time be without a little fun in a Christmas Bakery?

akasha by quillquiver (14k)

Five years ago, an angel fell off the coast of Cannon Beach, Oregon.

Dean’s coming off a vamp nest in Boise when he gets the call on his Other Other Cell: two dead, definitely his kinda thing. But when he arrives in town, what originally looks like a cut-and-dry case soon turns up more questions than it does answers: What kind of monster uses medical equipment to exsanguinate its victims? Why is this monster here in the first place?

And what the hell is up with the witch at the end of the street?

Something Icky This Way Comes by almaasi (21k)

Charlie Bradbury is a professional investigator of supernatural happenings, and Dean Winchester is her work partner and best friend, currently bunking in their office. Requiring insight for a particularly bizarre case on the night before Halloween, they call their go-to FBI lab guy, Castiel – who Dean hates. Totally and completely despises. And yet somehow they’ve always gotten along perfectly well in the heat of the moment. Anyway, there’s an ectoplasm-producing rabbit high on catnip floating around the office, and the creature’s predicament really needs to be addressed, or Charlie’s Halloween party will have to be cancelled. And nobody wants that. Least of all, Cas.

Serendipity by whelvenwings (23k)

Stuck on opposite sides of the country, Dean and Cas make big sacrifices to be together at a special time of the year. However, when they realise that their joint idea of paying a surprise visit to each other's faraway home has left them still trapped miles away from each other, they have to find some way to meet in the middle - and it has to be before midnight if it's going to be perfect...

Lucky Winner by natmoose (31k)

Dean wins a trip to Paris. In and of itself, that’s an amazing thing, but the problem is: he isn’t in a relationship with Lisa anymore, and the trip requires a romantic partner. The obvious choice is Cas, his roommate and best friend of 3 years, but coming with that are some very very complicated feelings and things Dean absolutely doesn’t want to deal with.

But Dean isn’t selfish and also really wants to give his overworked best friend a well deserved holiday, so the only and best solution is to take Cas to Paris, romantic theme be damned. What Dean doesn’t know is that their whole trip will be documented by a photographer from the company - so to avoid their vacation being cut short, Dean and Cas will have to convincingly play a couple.

4545 by anyrei and queerwerewolf (120k)

Albert Einstein predicted that, while he didn’t know with what weapons World War III would be fought, World War IV would be fought with sticks and stones. He wasn’t far off.

Humanity is surviving in a world without daylight, in a society where emotions are a luxury no one is allowed to have. But how important is surviving when you have nothing to live for? Two hunters find the answer to that question when they stumble over a miracle in the shape of a strange, blue-eyed man in a beige coat bearing… chocolate? Whatever that is.

I hope you enjoy reading these hidden gems! Thank you to all the amazing writers who share their work with us, and happy reading!

[commander-hanji-zoe]

Hey Hunn I’m in the christmas spirit so I was wondering if you could write about what the vets perfect Christmas would look like? Also, imagine Levi not celebrating his birthday nor Christmas, but suddenly he gets all kinds of gifts for his birthday AND Christmas!

Hey, here you go! I didn't write a lot about Levi's birthday but wanted to ensure I posted this before Christmas Day. So Merry Christmas to all my lovely followers, hope you all have a lovely, safe and peaceful holiday.

Relaxation before the Big day wasn’t something Erwin, Levi, Hanji, Mike, Nanaba nor Moblit had the luxury of. Their preparations for Christmas and New Year were rushed, crammed into evenings and early mornings with an occasional few hours in an afternoon. The work though, it paid off and for a few days they were able to relax and celebrate together, secretly all praying they’d be no emergencies to tear them away from

Their Christmases tended to be similar year to year, but to the tight knit group of friends they were always perfect, especially those where things didn’t go to plan.

I’ll say that the vets perfect Christmas is one where they’re together. It doesn’t have to be big and fancy, they don’t have to spend a fortune on it and doesn’t have to be ‘perfect’. Considering everything they’ve seen, their ideal Christmas is just when they can have the time off to spend quality time as a group, to really relax and recharge their batteries and for once a year to overindulge.

The six of them meet up on Christmas Eve for a walk, no matter the weather – even in rain or wind. They like to walk around town admiring Christmas lights, trees, candles in windows. Sometimes they talk a lot and other times they don’t, quite content in one another’s company.

Afterwards they take it in turns to host, though Hanji loves doing it most. So if one year the person whose turn it is, really isn’t feeling it or is unable to do it – Hanji will happily oblige.  The evening includes a feast for them to share complete with home made mulled wine, cider and eggnog.

They tell ghost stories by the fireplace late in the evening, every year Mike’s get more and more unbelievable (and to Moblit, more frightening). Nanaba finds it adorable and loves hearing the way he spins tales. Erwin too is very good at story-telling, acting out scenarios and putting on silly voices – though as Levi comments, they’re all rather serious.

They have a tradition where every Christmas eve they make one decoration each, whether it’s a wreath, paper chains, paper snowflakes or something else.

Each of them opens one gift on Christmas eve, rather like ‘secret santa’ they each draw one name out of a hat and that is person they have to buy a book for. It’s their Christmas eve read and they try to find a perfect festive book – perhaps Victorian or Gothic mid-winter ghost stories, something traditional or a festive romance novel. When they return to their rooms/homes they each curl up in bed and start to read the book that was bought for them.

They don’t go carol singing and rarely open the door to others – rather they leave mince pies and other sweet treats and a large cauldron of hot mulled wine out with a sign to say ‘help yourself’. They enjoy listening to others sing, but prefer to keep the rest of the world out.

No one mentions Levi’s birthday on Christmas Eve – they know he isn’t big on his birthday and doesn’t like to celebrate. Partly because he hates attention and partly because there are some difficult emotions to process surrounding that date – his friends respect this.

They retreat to their own homes/rooms shortly after midnight, preferring to be alone on Christmas morning. There’s two bonuses, firstly the sleep means they’ll be better company the following day and secondly, it’s time to reflect which they all, in their own way, find incredibly helpful.

Christmas is perfect when they ALL get to have a lie in on Christmas morning and don’t have to worry about a thing.

They don’t meet up again until 10-11am, when they make a toast by the Christmas tree with Bucks Fizz or Orange Juice.

Generally Moblit cooks with Levi’s assistance. Hanji makes baked goods beforehand and there’s always too much food left at the end. Whatever will keep and they know they won’t eat over the next couple of days, they’ll take to a food bank.

Christmas tends to be held at Erwin’s place. He has a little more room, his place is always clean. They each have a stocking on Erwin’s fireplace, every year without prompting he buys small and thoughtful gifts for each of them and includes a satsuma and a few chocolates.

There’s always a fire going – even if it’s a milder Christmas. Mike says it just isn’t Christmas without one, the others are inclined to agree.

Christmas is a time of abundance amongst other things, but for the vets they find less is more. There’s plenty of food and drinks, they have beautiful decorations and thoughtful gifts for one another but it’s never too much, it’s always just right – which Nanaba will comment on every year.

They take it in turns to open presents so they can watch the reaction and joy – all apart from Levi who tries to open his discreetly while others are occupied – it tends not to work, but Erwin won’t draw too much attention to it and will let him open presents on his own later if he needs the space.

But over dinner there will be a toast to Levi and his birthday – they’ll clink glasses round the table and Levi will give a very short 5 word speech.

At the Dinner table there are Christmas Crackers, Levi rolls his eyes at the same old cheesy jokes but secretly he loves them. They all wear their hats.

Erwin carves the turkey.

Mike pours brandy on the Christmas pudding and sets it on fire.

They curl up late afternoon on the sofas and armchair, just listening to music quietly, lots of festive scented candles and lights twinkling on the tree. Hanji, Moblit and Nanaba love to play a game, occasionally the others will join in. Mike prefers to read a book, Erwin too will read – but not the newspaper or local reports, he’ll pick something very light which always brings a smile to the others faces.

If it snows they’ll be snow ball fights and building snow men, possibly ice skating if the chance arises.

But if not they will all play one game together, each year they take it in turns to pick what game they’ll play. Mike likes Cluedo, Erwin enjoys Risk, Hanji loves Charades.

They avoid Monopoly, there was an incident where Levi and Erwin fell out over it and the board/all the pieces ended up on the floor. It was not a perfect Christmas that year.

To the vets there is no, ‘next year it’ll be better or bigger or more perfect’. They happy and content for what they have, grateful for their friendships and that they are lucky enough to still be here. They gave thanks with heartful gratitude and to them there is nothing more cosy or joyful.

[carlpalmer]

tagged by @wanderinstar thank you so much camila!! 💖

What book are you currently reading? i WAS reading the young bucks book. im a real intellectual

What’s your favorite movie you saw in theaters this past year? the one piece movie and i don't even go there. never seen a single episode. my friend invited me to go with her lol last movie i watched that i actually picked was everything everywhere all at once

What do you usually wear? just the basics lmao i either go pastel rainbow or black. i mostly wear pants and a t-shirt, jacket etc if i go out. i need to overcome my embarrassment of wearing shorts and other stuff outside

How tall are you? 1.60 m

What’s your star sign? Do you share a birthday with a celebrity or a historical event? cancer. i share a birthday with soccer player zinedine zidane whom you may remember as the guy who headbutted another player at the 2006 world cup and brazilian actress dercy gonçalves, a deceased old woman who cursed 838 times per second. only normal people <3

Do you go by your name or nickname? i go by my first name

Did you grow up to become what you wanted to be when you were a child? i wanted to be an artist, more specifically a painter, or a performer of any kind (singer, drummer, actress) so no

Are you in a relationship? If not who is your crush if you have one? no and i only have celeb crushes 😔 never beating the simp allegations

What’s something you’re good at vs something you’re bad at? good at languages, bad at ALL sports. name a sport. i will suck at it

Dogs or cats? cats

If you draw/write, or create in any way, what’s your favorite picture/favorite line/favorite etc. from something you created this past year? haven't done anything this past year other than doodling and drawing my cat who died but i didn't like the outcome lmao i will try again sometime. i did make some exercises and games for my job that were kinda creative and kids liked tho

What is something you would like to create content for? much like camila i wanted to get back into making gifs of my fave bands and drawing and probably learning how to play the flute too. god give me some discipline this year please!!!

What’s something you’re currently obsessed with? uh oh.. my fave bands (rush, genesis, the offspring etc) and finding new music, as always, wrestling (aew) and the tv show our flag means death (still 💀)

What’s something you were excited about that turned out to be disappointing this past year? new years eve!! it's my favorite holiday but after midnight we had a "fight" and it kinda ruined the mood. i wanted to go out to see the christmas decorations but whenever i went out, it rained. i also wanted to go to a concert but there were none i was able to afford or was rly interested in. im seeing sj and STEVE HACKETT this year so all is okay now!!!

What’s a hidden talent of yours? i have great memory, esp photographic memory. im the annoying geography nerdy kid who can point at a map and tell you where most countries of the world are (except for some islands maybe). im also very good at organization and making objects fit into cabinets, drawers etc. aaand i can tell every single rush song (and maybe other bands too) within the first 0, 1 seconds

Are you religious? no

What’s something you wish to have at this moment? 1) infinite money so i wouldn't have to work 2) courage, assertiveness, dedication AND energy 3) more concert tickets

tagging @mikerutherford @fullfightmami @shirleywatts @walkintheshadows

[gatheringfiki]

The following ficlet was written by @i-am-still-bb based on this photoset.

FiKi, Teen.

You might also be able to read this story on AO3.

If you’ve enjoyed this story, please leave a comment either in replies or on AO3. :)

The Wild Hunt

---

“Look at that!” Kili exclaimed, pointing at the shiny black motorbike that was parked on the edge of the sidewalk. Its polished chrome, sleek black leather, and black tires stood in sharp contrast to the worn stone of the street and the melting, slushy snow that had turned from white to a dirty dingy brown color. 

Ori looked miffed at the interruption. “It’s a motorbike,” he said.

It was only a few days before Christmas and the snow had made it feel more festive, until the temperatures had warmed again. The storefronts were decorated with baubles and lights. Kili and Ori were supposed to be doing some last minute Christmas shopping. But now Ori was sure that it would take a miracle for them to make it to the shops before they closed for the day. 

“It’s not just any bike!” Kili gushed. “It’s the new Triumph Tiger Sport 660!”

“I assume that means it's better than the Tiger Sport 650,” Ori replied drily.

“I would give up my left hand to have one of these,” Kili continued, not remembering (or caring if he did) that Ori did not care about motorbikes. It was one of the places where their interests did not converge. Ori had even taken to calling them donor cycles as a way of trying to convince Kili to stay away from them. He argued that Ireland was too wet, making riding a motorbike even more dangerous than places where it did not rain so much. But Kili still bought the new issues of RoadRUNNER and Bike as soon as they hit the shelves.

Kili was walking around the bike, mouth hanging open as he gawked. The street was empty except for the two of them.

“It would be really hard to drive with only one hand,” the owner of the bike said, seeming to appear out of nowhere. “I can barely handle her with both hands sometimes.”

“I was just admiring…” Kili was saying before he even looked up to see the driver. And then the words died on his lips. Kili was never one to believe in anything like “love-at-first-sight” or any of that nonsense. But “lust-at-first-sight” was something he definitely understood, especially in that moment. And it was not just because of the bike.

“Do you have a bike?” The blonde man asked. The leather of his jacket creaked as he moved his helmet from one hand to the other. 

Kili shook his head. “No. I’ve been saving, but…” he shrugged. “Even when I do get one I doubt it will be anything like this. She’s gorgeous.” Kili stuffed his hands into the pockets of his hooded sweatshirt and looked at the bike again.

“I know,” the owner grinned, but there was a sharp edge to the smile. His teeth were very white and his canines were very pointed. 

“Kili, the shops are going to close if we don’t get going,” Ori interrupted the exchange. He looked from Kili to the motorbike’s owner. He made Ori uncomfortable. There was something about him that reminded Ori of the faerie stories that his grandmother used to tell him. And not the nice faerie stories.

“Would you like to go for a ride sometime, Kili?” Ori’s words were ignored.

Kili’s eyes went wide. “Really?” 

“How about tonight? I’ll pick you up.”

Kili’s grin was so wide that it nearly split his face in half. “That’d be awesome!”

“Kili—” Ori started to interrupt. It was Christmas Eve. There were plans for tonight, visiting with family and then midnight Mass. There was no time in there for riding motorbikes in the dark with strangers. Not that there was ever a good time for that in Ori’s opinion.

But Kili was already giving the man his home address.

Only later when Kili did not come home did Ori figure out what he thought was odd about the end of their exchange. The man had not written the address down. He nodded and smiled, as if he already knew the address. And he did not tell Kili his name.

—

“We’ll be back after Mass,” Kili’s mother said, hand resting on the doorframe of Kili’s bedroom where Kili was buried under a pile of blankets with a damp rag on his forehead. “You stay in bed and rest.”

Kili nodded, the rag slipped down and covered one eye before he pushed it back up. His mother’s perfume filled his small room. And then she was gone. Kili stayed in bed waiting to hear the door close, the key turn in the lock, and the car start up and pull away only then did he get out of bed and tiptoe to the window to make sure that they were gone. 

He did feel guilty about lying to his parents about being sick. Ori would know that he was faking it the second that Kili did not arrive with his parents, but Ori would not tell, but he might give Kili hell for it tomorrow. But that was a future problem, one made all the more bearable by the knowledge that he was going to get on the back of a motorbike and be pressed very close to a very attractive someone. 

Kili was just tying his boots when there was a knock at the door. A peek through the window revealed the big black motorbike parked on the street. Kili nearly fell down the stairs in his rush to open the door. 

“Are you ready, Kili?” There was that sharp smile again. 

Kili nodded. “Just let me grab my jacket.” He grabbed his sweatshirt from the hook in the hall and blew out a candle that his mother had left burning since he was going to be home. The smoke curled up from the wick as soon as the flame was extinguished.

Outside, it was nearly dark already. The only light came from the distant street lights, the slim crescent moon, and the white Christmas lights on the neighbors’ houses that twinkled and swayed in the light breeze.

“Here,” the man said, handing Kili a helmet before mounting the big bike with ease and strapping on his own helmet. His blue eyes flashing in the dim light. 

Kili fumbled with the straps for a few reasons—1. He wasn’t used to putting on helmets, 2. He kept getting distracted, and 3. he was self-conscious of his clumsy hands.

“Here, let me.” The man’s warm hands brushed against Kili’s throat as he fastened the buckled and adjusted the straps. He slid two fingers between the straps and the underside of Kili’s jaw to check the fit.

Kili swallowed hard.

“Get on.”

Kili managed to get on the back of the bike more or less gracefully.

“You ever ridden on the back of a bike before?” 

Kili nodded. His uncles had given him rides when he was younger before Bifur had been in that accident. 

“You want to make sure you hold on tight, alright?” He adjusted Kili’s grip, pulling Kili more firmly against him. 

Kili nodded again, this time because words escaped him.

“Ready?”

“I didn’t get your name before?” Kili managed, thinking that he should at least know the the man’s name before they went off somewhere.

The man laughed. “It’s Fili.”

“Right. I’m Kili.”

“I know.” Kili could hear Fili’s grin.

“So where are we going?”

“Have you ever heard of the Wild Hunt?”

Kili nodded. “Is that where we’re going?” 

Suddenly the night seemed colder than before. Kili shivered. But he did not get off the bike, nor did he loosen his grip on Fili’s waist.

“Ready?” Fili looked over his shoulder. The bike rumbled to life beneath them.

Kili tightened his grip. The leather of Fili’s jacket was cool and smooth against his cheek. “Yes.”

“Hold on.”

The bike roared away from Kili’s house and down the narrow road to the main streets. But later, when asked by detective constables who were investigating Kili’s disappearance, no one had heard the sound of the big bike’s engine as it sped away because it was not there for them and they did not have ears that could hear.

[teabooksandsweets]

A City of Bells

Chapter VIII — Part I

As soon as the festival was over St. Martin withdrew his summer and the rain came down in the way peculiar to Torminster, day after day of steady, penetrating downpour that made everybody and everything feel like a saturated sponge. It was very cold in the old, damp bedrooms of the Close. Grandfather got rheumatics very badly in his knees and Grandmother in her hands, and Henrietta sneezed incessantly. Hugh Anthony’s health remained unaffected, though he felt the chill of his little bedroom to such an extent that his nightly query was, “Grandmother, need I wash?”

Jocelyn, now that winter was upon them in good earnest, found the discomfort of a house without modern conveniences acute. His morning’s cold bath lacked thrill, but to boil enough water in his two little kettles for a hot one took a good hour. A large and loathsome fungus appeared in the corner of his bedroom and the paper in the hall peeled off with the damp. Very few customers came to the shop and he found a dead rat in the bread-bin. Martha Carroway went down with bronchitis and Mixed Biscuits with distemper. Jocelyn himself caught a bad cough through sitting up with Mixed Biscuits at night, and his balance at the bank mysteriously disappeared.

But the worst of all his trials was the mess he was getting into over Ferranti’s dramatic poem. The more he worked at it the more convinced he became that it was amazingly beautiful poetry, but though the plot of the story was mapped out to the end the actual writing was only a little more than half finished, and Jocelyn found himself obliged to fill up the gaps with his own verse.

And though, like everyone else, he had written passable poetry in his youthful days he did not find it so easy now that life and its disillusionment had a little dulled his perception of beauty and his response to it. “How is it that artists keep their powers of perception even in the days when life darkens?” he asked himself. Thinking about it and taking as his model Grandfather, an artist in religion who had given to its study the devotion and the hours of discipline that a violinist devotes to his instrument, he thought that their perception was born of the faculty of wonder, deepening to meditation and to penetrating sight and so strong that it could last out a lifetime. Grandfather wondered, all day and every day, at the wisdom of God and the beauty of the world, and Ferranti had wondered at the waste and pain and frustration of life.

In him, judging from the scraps of poems that had been rescued from Mrs. Jameson, wonder had become a sense of outrage, but it had had its fruits of meditation and a rather terrible penetration. The verse that expressed it was vivid as lightning and cruel as a microscope in its power of enlarging horror.

So Jocelyn too tried to acquire the perceptive outlook, the outlook of Hamlet when he cried, “This most excellent canopy the air, look you, this brave o’erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire.” Even the bitter words that followed, “it appears to me no other than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours,” were the words of an artist, Jocelyn thought, stabbing like a sword in their quick flash from joy to despair. Night after night and during every spare moment of the day he steeped himself in Ferranti’s poetry, and in all poetry that seemed to him akin to it, and he tried to feel every trivial happening of the day acutely and see every beauty and sorrow trebly intensified. And, though he reduced himself to a nervous wreck, he had his reward, for his verse became more and more like Ferranti’s, lighter and clearer and with a winged quality that Henrietta would have told him, had she heard it, made it jump up like a lark.

Not that Jocelyn thought so. Domestic trials and the weather and his own nervous exhaustion had reduced him to depths of depression as yet unplumbed by him. When at midnight on Christmas Eve he wrote the last word, completely unsatisfied yet knowing that he could not get the thing better, he felt that he had failed Ferranti utterly … This man Ferranti whom he had never seen and yet who, alive or dead, had mysteriously become his friend.