#snowflakes & cashmere

[pinkxokissesxo]

[sapphire-imeo]

My Fav Bath and Body Works ❄️💗

[allthingsscented]

it got so cold at night a while ago that i had to grab a winter scent early! i paired it with salted caramel apricot to bring the fall vibe back in though 🧡

[babycactus]

got a handcream from bbw and it smells soo good

[twinklesparklelights]

[mypoisonedvine]

𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲 | angus tully x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | visiting home for the holidays, Angus runs into his old babysitter... or perhaps more importantly, his first real crush. the older, unattainable girl next door; the one that made him realize maybe cooties aren't all that bad. now he's older, too, and maybe you aren't quite as unattainable-- so long as he can play it cool and not make a complete idiot out of himself...

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 5.6k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | SMUT (18+ only!!), age gap (not huge but angus is 18 and the reader is just out of college), semi-public/car sex, drug use (watch out for the devil's lettuce y'all!!) as well as brief cigarette use, inexperienced/virgin angus, no spoilers for the holdovers (2023) nor any significant relationship to the plot of it lol

technically this is a christmas fic so if you noticed that I'm posting it in january, no you didn't and mind your business <3

The sky was pitch black, and the world was dark— even with all those Christmas lights, their colorful glow seemed to be absorbed so quickly in the gloom of the evening. 

The white snow served as a nice contrast, but it did look sort of grey in all the shadows, even as it was freshly falling to cover the ground.  The snowflakes fell fast, they looked almost heavy: not that cute, fluffy snow that looks all whimsical and floats on the wind.  

It was the sort of weather that should’ve made him appreciate being safe and warm inside, but as he pressed his nose to the cold glass, he wished rather ungratefully for escape.

The doorbell stirred him out of the moment, and Angus looked back over his shoulder towards the foyer.  “Honey!  Can you get that?” his mother called out to him from the kitchen.  She made herself seem so busy when he knew she hadn’t really cooked at all— she was just arranging everything she’d bought on fancy plates to look homemade.  The crinkle of tinfoil gave away that she was too busy disposing of the evidence to greet her guests herself.  She was lucky all the ones who had already arrived were too busy drinking in the living room to notice.

Rolling his eyes a bit, he propelled himself off of his lean on the wall, stuffing one hand in his khaki pocket and the other opening the front door.

Your parents were always really… energetic.  They greeted Angus with massive smiles and ecstatic faces, as if they could hardly believe he was letting them in to his own house.  To be fair, he wasn’t here most of the year, but it wasn’t like he was a celebrity or anything…

“Angus!” your mom squealed joyfully.

“Hey, buddy!” your dad greeted, forcing Angus to fight back a cringe.  

“Nice to see you,” he offered them, “come on in, the food’s almost ready.”

Your mom was preoccupied with the casserole dish she was holding, but your dad’s hands were free so he of course had to give Angus a playful punch to the shoulder as he stepped inside.  “Wo-hoah!  You been workin’ out?” your dad joked— as if Angus’ noodly arm in a red cashmere sweater was ever going to fool anyone into thinking he lifted weights…

As he turned to shut the door, he realized you were standing there, taking one last puff of a cigarette before dropping it on the ground and snuffing it out with your shoe.

He hadn’t known you were coming over— if he had, he would’ve… done something.  Fixed his hair or not worn something so dorky, maybe?  

“H-hey,” he greeted you, feeling pierced by even just your passing glance up at him.

“Hey, kid,” you nodded, making him frown as you walked in past him.

Your parents and his mom were already chatting up a storm, that sort of high-pitched suburban babble he’d learned to tune out easily.  In fact, it really just muffled into a distant whirr as he watched you slip off your coat, revealing your outfit beneath.  He always remembered you wearing jeans when you came over to babysit— and dresses at church.  So the skirt and blazer sort of caught him off-guard.  It made you seem even older— in a good way, like you were a businesswoman or something— and the seam of your stockings running down the back of your legs… his head tilted as his eyes followed it 

“Well shut the door, Angus, you’re letting the cold air in!” his mother scolded gently, knocking him out of the thought.

“O-oh, sorry,” he mumbled, shutting it as you looked back at him over your shoulder and smiled a bit.  He felt like such a loser when you looked at him like that…

“Let me make you two some drinks!  What are you having?”

He wasn’t listening again, of course; he was staring at you again, wondering if you hadn’t changed at all— you were exactly how he remembered you, even though it was probably impossible that you looked the same as his 17-year-old babysitter as you did now.  He hoped that he looked totally different to you, that you were thinking to yourself right now how much more mature he looked.  He hoped that you could barely believe he was the same boy you watched when he was younger— or, better yet, that you’d just totally forgotten about all that.

“Would you help set the table, please, honey?” his mother requested as she zipped back into the kitchen.  He nodded and hesitated before quickly brushing past you to get the silverware out of the cabinet by the table, placing a setting in front of each chair.  She reappeared behind him, but he didn’t look up— not at her or you, even though you were the one she was talking to.  “I’m sorry, sweetie, I forgot to ask— did you want a glass of wine or something?”

“No, I’m alright— thanks, ma’am,” you replied.  “I’ll help with the silverware.”

“Oh, you’re so sweet,” she cooed at you before departing again, and Angus felt his hands get a little clammier around the handful of utensils as you reached out for them. 

“Give me some,” you instructed him, and he only briefly glanced at your face; he tried to hand you the forks without touching your fingers, but all that accomplished was dropping some of them loudly onto the table while still brushing up against your soft hand.  You snorted, picking them up and starting to set them around the placemats as well.

He tried to ignore you, both of you working around the table, but he sighed as he took a closer look at your work.  “No the— that’s a salad fork,” he corrected, “that should go inside.”

“What?” 

“The smaller fork goes on the other side, closest to the plate,” he explained, switching the utensils you’d just placed.  “Dessert spoon goes at the top, butter knife on the left—”

You scoffed a bit.  “And where should I put the opium spoon?”

“Listen, I know it’s stupid,” he assured as he looked at your face again— you were so close, standing right beside him, and his heart was racing.  “But my stepdad will blow a gasket if it’s wrong,” he added in a lower voice.

“He sounds like a tool,” you mumbled back, and the two of you smiled a bit, in that way people smile when they share a secret.  Not that his stepdad being a tool was all that exclusive of a secret…

“Alright!” his mom emerged again, carrying some ceramic dish with oven mitts, and you both straightened up.  “Food’s coming out!  Oh, are the Shaws not here yet?”

Your dad was carrying the platter of ham, and your mom behind him with another side.  “I, uh, guess not,” Angus answered her question.

“Well, we’ll have to start eating without them,” she sighed, wiping her forehead with the back of her head as the dishes were set down— like she was so exhausted.  She probably was, but not from cooking or physical labor: just from the constant anxiety she’d been exuding for the last three days because of this stupid dinner party.  She acted like the President or the Pope were coming, and not just a bunch of boring old people.

And you.  She’d never mentioned you.

As she gathered the guests for dinner, Angus looked at you, and realized he should say something— be polite, at least.  He was terrified to open his mouth and embarrass himself, but if he didn’t try, he’d seem like even more of a loser.

Quickly rubbing his palms against his trousers, he broke the silence.  “So, um, how’ve you been?” he asked, and you looked back at him, seeming a little surprised that he talked to you at all.  

“Oh,” you responded, “good, I’ve been good— just kinda busy.  What have you been doing?”

“You know, just… whatever,” he shrugged, not wanting to admit he was still in high school.

“Aren’t you still in high school?” you questioned with a furrowed brow.

Shit.  That illusion didn’t last long.  “Yeah,” he admitted sheepishly, “but I’m eighteen!”

You gave him a little pitying smile that made him realize too late how pathetic his statement was.  Bragging about being eighteen wasn’t doing him any favors in terms of coming off as mature to you— why did he think that would work?

“U-uh, you… you’re in college, right?”

“Well— I was, until about a week ago,” you answered.  “I graduated a semester early.”

“Oh, congrats,” he offered with a nod, “that’s great.  You’ve always been really smart…”

“Well, it didn’t take a genius to help you with your seventh grade math homework,” you deflected his compliment with a tilted smirk, and he laughed nervously.

“I, um, can’t believe you remember that,” he mumbled.

“Of course,” you said, and just as he started to wonder what that meant, his stepdad spoke up over the dull roar of conversation.

“Alright, everyone, take your seats around the table,” he encouraged, “and we’ll all pray before we enjoy this lovely meal.”

Aside from the late arrival of the Shaws, dinner went off without a hitch— Angus fielded the same four questions on repeat, glanced at you every thirty seconds, and only got caught about a dozen times.

The only thing more boring than the dinner was the time afterwards, the indefinite mingling phase.  He usually just counted the minutes until he could get excused to his room, where he could read or sketch or really do anything quiet.  But now that you were here, he wasn’t as sure what to do: he wanted to talk to you, but he didn’t want to seem too excited to talk to you, but he didn’t want to seem like an asshole or anything…

So he pretty much just sat on a couch, as far away from the bustle of the party as he could reasonably get away with, trying to look busy while not actually doing anything.  Occasionally looking at you, but usually trying not to— until he realized you were coming towards him.  Now was it okay to look at you?

He tried to act like he didn’t even notice you coming closer until you sat next to him on the couch; you were a little close, sitting on your side and putting one of your arms up on the back of the sofa cushions like you were trapping him in.  He put his legs together so they wouldn’t bump into your knees which were dangerously close to him now.

“You look bored,” you noticed.

“Yeah?  I wonder why,” he replied with a small smirk.

“You didn’t really tell me how you’ve been,” you remembered.  “What’s boarding school like?”

“Uh, you know, pretty much your average hellhole,” he joked— not that it wasn’t at least mostly true.  “Not that living at home would be all that much better.”

“You Barton boys get into any trouble up there?” you asked, and he shrugged a bit.

“Some,” he said.  “If you’re not an idiot, you can mostly avoid getting caught for anything.”

“Like what?” you pressed.  “Do kids ever get busted with pot?”

“Oh, all the time,” he laughed.  “It’s really not hard to get away with it, honestly.  I mean, I never got caught, so…”

You raised an eyebrow.  “You smoke?”

He loved the way you said it, not quite under your breath but a secretive mumble.  He just shrugged again, and you laughed a little.  “What?” he wondered.

“You just don’t seem the type,” you explained.

“You don’t know me that well,” he countered, lowering his voice, hoping you would pick up on the undertone.  But if you did, you didn’t quite respond to it.

“Well, are you the type to sneak out of this boring dinner and go smoke?” you wondered.  He thought you looked really sexy asking him a question like that, eyes lighting up as you suggested something that risky.

He grinned excitedly.  “Right now?”

“You’re not scared to get caught, are you?” you challenged.

“Fuck no,” he laughed, “let’s do it.”

~

“Where are we gonna go?” he wondered aloud, stuffing his hands into his coat pockets.

“My car,” you explained, having to talk a little louder to be heard over the wind.  “I’m parked down the street— by the park, so nobody’s gonna notice us.”

You trudged through the snow together, each step a deep crunch into the frozen snow, and you squinted your eyes when a sharp, icy wind struck right in your face.

You picked up the pace a bit when you saw your car, excited to escape the freezing cold; and as you turned the key in the driver’s door, unlocking the rest, Angus came up beside you.

“Get in on the other side,” you told him, and he walked around the back as you got in yourself.

When you first got in the car, you could still see your breath in the air— but it was still a nice reprieve from the wind outside, and you unzipped your coat and tossed it into the passenger seat in front of you.  Angus hopped in a moment later, and when he shut his door, you were both submerged suddenly into the quietest place you’d been all night.  No wind, no dinner guests, no records playing— just each other’s breathing.

You considered turning the heat on, but you figured the chill would pass soon enough with Angus’ and your own body heat filling the space.

You clicked on the ceiling light, a dim yellow glow illuminating the inside of the car and really bringing out the dinginess of the grey-beige carpet and fabric all over everything.  He simply sat on the seat, waiting patiently with his legs spread a bit and his hands on his knees, blowing out a breath through his cheeks which swelled with air; he watched you lean back and open the front console, bending somewhat awkwardly over it to reach in and rifle around.

“There we go,” you mumbled as your hand found the fabric bag underneath loose bills and receipts; you pulled it out and opened the drawstring, revealing with a proud smile the baggy inside.  “Ta-da!” you announced softly, brandishing the crushed leaf and rolling papers.  “Wanna show me your joint-rolling skills?” 

You held the bag towards him in offering, but he shook his head and seemed to shrink away slightly.  “N-no, I’ll let you do the honors,” he decided in a soft voice.

You rubbed your hands together to try to warm them up first, because the detailed task was trickier with cold fingers, but you managed alright in the end.  His eyes were glued to the way your tongue slid along the paper before sealing it; it did intrigue you just a bit, wondering what he was imagining while you did that.

“Were you always a bad girl, and I just didn’t know it?” he asked.  “Or did college make you more rebellious?”

“A bad girl, huh?” you snorted, and his face flushed a bit.

“That didn’t sound weird in my head,” he promised.

“Save it for when you can blame it on the flower, dude,” you laughed as you handed him the blunt and got your lighter ready.  “You can have the first hit, I’ll light it up for you.”

He put it between his lips as you struck the BIC, and he leaned forward until the end was in the flames.  

You watched him breathe it in, that singe-y, crispy sound of the weed burning with each inhale making you smile a bit in anticipation… though you had to admit, it wasn’t just your excitement to get high that had your heart beating faster.

He only managed to hold it in for a second before coughing roughly, clearly trying to suppress it at first before bringing his fist to his mouth and really hacking a few times.  You smacked him on the back with a grin, and he nodded at you; poor thing, his eyes were all red, actually his whole face was red, but he eventually recovered.

“You don’t really smoke, do you?” you noticed with a tilted smile.

He cleared his throat and shook his head.  “N-not really, no,” he admitted.  “I mean, I’ve tried it before, I swear—”

“It’s fine,” you assured, “I just don’t want you losing a lung.”

“Let me try again,” he pleaded, reaching for the blunt, but you held it away from him and laughed.

“I’ve got a better idea, this might make it easier,” you offered, leaning in closer.  He seemed to tense up a bit, like he wasn't sure what you were leaning in for, but he watched you with half-lidded eyes as you took a long drag.

You grabbed his jaw— not hard, but enough to make him open his mouth a bit— and exhaled the smoke into his face.  He got the idea and breathed in deeply, staring right into your eyes.

“Better?” you asked.

“U-um, yeah,” he whispered, “I didn't cough that time…”

“Then we’ll just do it this way,” you decided, biting your lip a little when he shifted in the seat.  You were having way too much fun with him, and you knew it was unfair, but how often do you get to tease somebody like this?

After a few more hits that way, you saw his eyes get a little glassier.  You yourself were starting to feel it, and you smiled at him as you brought your mouth a bit closer to his for the next shared breath.

“How does it feel?” you asked him softly as you leaned back again— he chased you for a minute, like he wanted to stay close, but relaxed quickly.

“U-uh, kinda… floaty…” he mumbled.  “Don’t you think my parents are gonna notice the smell when we go back in?”

“I’ve got perfume for that,” you explained.

“So I’m gonna smell, like… fruity?” he frowned, and you giggled.

“That’s what you think my perfume smells like?” you wondered.

“Yeah, not— not that I was, you know… sniffing you…” he trailed off, face getting pink again, and you laughed.

“I think you need another hit,” you decided, and he nodded in agreement.  Inhaling deeply, you pulled him closer and breathed into his open mouth, looking back into his eyes through the thin veil of excess smoke.

After that, you leaned back against the door, basking for a moment in your own high.  You watched the snow falling outside the window, letting your vision get a little blurry; the quietness of the moment didn’t seem awkward to you at all, it seemed peaceful, but apparently Angus was the more anxious type of smoker and felt the need to break the silence.  “I always had the biggest crush on you,” he blurted out, and you sighed a bit, lips pressing into a pitying smile even though you didn’t look back at him.  “I was kinda surprised you didn’t notice…”

“I did,” you mumbled.

“R-really?” he choked.  “I, uh… I thought you just saw me as some little twerp.”

“I did,” you said again, smiling wider, and he laughed nervously.

“Oh,” he nodded as he looked away, “that’s… fair.”

He only let the silence linger for a second before interrupting it again.

“But I’ve grown up a lot, you know,” he reminded you.  “I’m eighteen.”

“You mentioned that.”

“Right.  Um,” he stalled, “but it’s not just that.  I mean, I like to think I’m pretty… mature.  At least, I am compared to the idiots at my school— but I probably still seem like a little kid to you.  I can’t really compete with college guys…”

“Compete?” you repeated, tilting your head.  “What are you competing for?”

“O-oh, I just meant like, um—” he stammered, and you scooted closer to him on the seat with a devious smile.  

“What are you competing with those ‘college guys’ for, Angus?” you pressed again.  “My attention?”

“Some… something like that, yeah,” he answered, speaking a little softer.  

“Well, there’s not much competition here, is there?” you noticed, looking around the car.  “It’s just you and me… we’re alone.”

He started to open his mouth to speak, but you reached up to drag one finger over his chest for a moment, and he only choked out a little gasp.  “Yeah, I… guess that’s true,” he mumbled, going back and forth from watching your finger draw circles on his sweater to watching your face.  

You wordlessly brought the joint to your lips again, seeing that it was about halfway gone already.  You took a long, deep breath in, exhaling towards him without really pursing your lips, letting him come closer for his share this time.  Except, finally, this time he didn’t stop.  He just kept leaning in towards you until his lips brushed over yours and you shut your eyes.

His kiss was patient, almost too gentle, like he was holding back.  You set the joint aside quickly in the ashtray and brought your hands up to his face, so you could kiss him a little harder and maybe encourage him somehow.  It seemed to work; he got a little more ambitious, moving his lips against yours, sighing gently as you combed your fingers through his wild curls.

You heard the wind howl outside, whistling around the car, not that you really paid much attention to it.  Instead, your attention was drawn to the way his hands were still sat in his lap; you smirked a little.  What a polite boy.

“You can touch me, you know,” you whispered to him, never breaking away from his lips.  One of your hands wrapped gingerly around one of his wrists, guiding it to your waist.

“Right, sorry,” he mumbled back, grabbing onto you with a touch more confidence.  He even pulled you a little closer as you kissed him harder, your hands traveling up to his shoulders in return.

Other than needing some guidance on the auxiliary stuff, Angus was a good kisser.  You were actually a little surprised when he slipped his tongue into your mouth, but it was certainly a pleasant surprise: it seemed like a good sign he wasn’t holding back anymore.

One of your legs hiked up over his, just something instinctive to keep him close, and his hand trailed down over your hip to caress that leg; it was a shame you needed tights for the weather, because you would’ve loved to feel his touch right on your skin.  “These are cute,” he informed you in a mumble against your lips, quickly pinching and popping the elastic-y fabric back against your leg.  You broke away to look down at his hand on your thigh, which he did as well.

“Really?” you asked sweetly, not sure you were pulling off the innocent vibe of the question.

“Yeah,” he nodded, meeting your gaze again, “I couldn’t keep my eyes off you.”

You hummed and he kissed you again— and this time, as his hand slid back up to your waist, it took a route along the curve of your ass.  You wouldn’t have minded at all if he got a nice handful of it, pulled you closer, gotten a little rougher with you… but obviously, he didn’t.  It was still Angus, after all.

In fact, it took a few more minutes of kissing for him to even muster the courage to touch your chest through your sweater, but you both sighed a bit when he finally did.  He groped at you a bit, but you didn’t care much for all the layers in between, so you sat up and perched yourself in his lap, breaking the kiss to shed your blazer and pull your sweater up over your bra.  “O-oh,” he breathed as you did it, and you felt something tighten up inside you when he absent-mindedly bit his lip.

You sighed shakily, even though you didn’t know why you felt just a bit nervous— and you pulled your bra up, too, exposing yourself entirely to him.

He whispered your name; your pussy clenched again instantly.

He put his hands over you carefully, and you jumped slightly when those long fingers of his brushed over your skin— and he pulled back quickly in response.  “Fuck, are my hands cold?  I’m sorry,” he stammered nervously, but you just smiled back at him.

“It’s fine,” you promised, and he put his hands back on you with a long sigh.

“Wow,” he mumbled under his breath.  You couldn’t help but laugh softly at the wide-eyed, awe-filled stare that never left your tits as he carefully massaged them; he toyed with your nipples briefly before groping a bit more confidently, your hips shifting in his lap without you really meaning for them to.

Your smile fell, though, when he suddenly leaned forward and latched his mouth onto one of them.  “O-oh, fuck,” you mumbled under your breath as he suckled— rather voraciously, really— and fluttered his eyes shut, his tongue running all over the skin in his mouth.  You looked down at him for a minute, thinking he looked pretty cute doing that, but had to shut your eyes and lean your head back when he sucked even harder at you.  “Fuck, Angus—”

“Does that feel good?” he asked quietly as he broke away; you bit your lip and nodded, and he moved to the other one as you leaned back even further, held up only by the front seats.  He, of course, gladly leaned forward with you to stay close, and kept a hand on the breast no longer in his mouth.

You could’ve sworn you felt yourself get especially wet when his tongue swirled around your nipple, and through the high that clouded your brain (equally from the pot and the pleasure) you realized that you were about to fuck Angus Tully.  You sort of couldn’t believe it, and yet the thought didn’t disgust or offend you as much as you thought it would.  You figured you would at least feel a little more guilty, but… you didn’t.  Not very much, at least.  Certainly not enough to stop you.

You sat back up and moved your hips back a bit, making him stop what he was doing just to wonder what you were up to; he groaned a bit when you reached down between your own legs to try to open his belt.  “O-oh, fuck,” he whispered, lifting his hips a bit as well to make it easier for you to reach.  “We're really gonna—?”

“Yeah,” you breathed, finally getting his belt open and working on his button and fly next; you could feel his cock already through the fabric, and it flexed a bit against the back of your hand in anticipation.

He groaned a little when you reached into his boxers and wrapped your hand around his length.

“You're so hard,” you noticed with a little gasp, gripping him tighter as you tried to (carefully) pull his cock out of the khakis and plaid underwear.

“Yeah,” he sighed, “fuck, yeah… you're really, um— you're hot.”

You giggled a bit, glancing up at his nervous expression.  “You're sweet,” you offered, but your mouth was agape when you finally got a glimpse of him.  “You're… fuck, Angus, you're big…”

“Oh, uh, really?” he perked up, cock flexing against your palm.

Giving him a few lazy strokes as you nodded, you giggled when his hips started to buck up towards your touch.  “Fuck, I want you,” you moaned softly, and his cock just flexed in your hand again.

“You— god, you can’t even imagine how long I’ve wanted you,” he assured, making you smile wide.

“I’m sure I can, but I’ll try not to,” you decided as you let go of him.  He seemed disappointed until he realized why: reaching up under your skirt, you pulled your tights and panties down your thighs.  

“What if somebody sees?” he wondered nervously.

“They’re all busy inside, nobody’s coming out here in this weather,” you assured.  “I can turn the light off if you want though—”

“N-no,” he stopped you before you could keep reaching for the ceiling light.  “No, I still wanna see.”

You laughed a little and kissed him again, quickly.  “Me too,” you agreed as you lifted yourself up over his lap, guiding his cock’s head to your entrance.  

He sighed a little as soon as it touched you, but that was nothing compared to the way he reacted when you lowered yourself and he slipped inside.

“Fuck,” you groaned deeply, loving the way he stretched you out— not painful, but just the right amount of challenge.  The body high seemed to make everything a little extra tingly and soft, though you didn’t have a sober version of this experience to compare it to.

“Oh my god,” he breathed, “oh my god…”

You finally sank down completely into his lap, and he took hold of your waist with a little moan.  “Fuck,” you said again, more of a whisper, your head falling back as you started to rock against him.  “Oh, it’s so deep, Angus—”

He interrupted you with a sort of whine, like he couldn’t take hearing you talk like that… but that just made you want to do it more.

“So fucking good,” you praised with a sigh, feeling him press his forehead against your chest as he moaned quietly.  “You feel so fucking good…”

He whimpered, grabbing on painfully-tight to your hips, until his head fell back and his Adam's apple bobbed with each noise he made.

A sharp, needy moan jumped out of his throat— and at the same time, you felt him pulse inside you.  Your eyes went wide as he relaxed slightly under you.  “Did you… just come?” you asked.

He was still panting, his face starting to flush red.  “Um… yeah?” he replied breathlessly.  “Sorry, I-I tried not to—”

“It’s okay,” you promised with a soft laugh, “are you— or, uh, were you a virgin?”

“Uh…” he stalled anxiously.  “Yeah, I am— or was— sorry, I should’ve said something, but I thought you might—”

“It’s fine,” you assured, resting a hand on his chest to try to soothe him.  “It’s cute, honestly.  I don’t mind being your first.”

“I always wanted you to be,” he admitted.  “I imagined it like this.”

You raised an eyebrow, glancing around at the car.  “Like this?”

“Well, not exactly like this,” he laughed.  “There was a lot more time involved, for one, and a bed.  And whipped cream—”

“Okay, let’s not unpack all that right now,” you interjected, “we should get cleaned up and go back inside anyway…”

You tried to get off his lap, but he held you down by your hips (with more strength than you expected from him) and pleaded with you: “No, wait, not yet— I want you to come, too.”

“It’s okay, really, we need to go back before your parents notice you’re gone,” you insisted.

“No, they don’t care— please?  Please just keep going?  I’m still hard, I can—”

“Angus,” you interrupted, and he sighed a little because he knew already you weren’t going to be convinced.  “You’ll get another chance to make me come, alright?  We just have to get back inside now.”

He lit up instantly.  “Really?  So we can— we’ll do this again?”

“If you want,” you shrugged.

“Hmm, no thanks— I’ll just go back to being a horny loser,” he joked, making you snort.  “Of course I wanna see you again.  I can’t believe I have to do… anything else but that until then!”

“You’ll live,” you promised as you got up off of him— you both winced, but you mostly just focused on getting your panties and tights back up before anything, uh, spilled.

You pulled your bra and sweater down again, and figured out where your blazer ended up so you could slip it back on while Angus lifted his hips to be able to get himself back into the khakis.

Opening the console again, you put your paraphernalia back in and dug around for a glass bottle instead.  “Hopefully this can cover up weed and sex,” you said as you spritzed yourself a couple times with the perfume, then got him once or twice for good measure.

“How am I supposed to hide this?” he asked with an annoyed groan, struggling to adjust his boner inside his trousers in a way that wasn’t obvious.

“Sorry, all I can help with is the smell,” you laughed, putting the perfume back and slipping your coat on.  “You ready?”

“Yeah, guess so,” he sighed, “ready as I’ll ever be.  W-wait— can I kiss you one more time first, before we go?”

You thought it was funny, and sweet, that he thought he had to ask.  You nodded, and he pulled you into a kiss that was much more passionate than you expected.  Not filthy or anything, but not as tired and slow as you expected after just coming.  His hands held your head, and you had to really remind yourself not to get lost in it before your better judgment was overruled.

Pulling back slowly, you looked at him for a second and wondered if anyone had ever looked back at you quite like that before.

You leaned for the door handle, but just before you pulled it, a final thought popped into your mind.  “Oh, I almost forgot— Merry Christmas, by the way,” you offered him with a smile.

“Yeah, no shit,” he laughed, almost sounding like he was in disbelief, “that’s about the merriest fucking Christmas I’ve ever had.”

[series masterlist here]

[honeytonedhottie]

honey's guide to winter⋆.ೃ࿔*:･❄️💕

winter is my SEASON. as a december baby and a certified winter princess im qualified to talk about to have the most princessy, sugary winter that you've ever had and were gonna explore just that in this post…💬🎀

WINTER BEAUTY ;

when i think of winter beauty i think of glittery, shimmery eyelids and frosty pink lips. glittery nails, long dolly lashes, and LOTS and lots of ribbons and furry accessories. winter beauty is about looking fabulously flushed from the cold, looking and feeling like a glittery winter fairy ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅💕

lets start off with the makeup. first and foremost wash ur face and prep ur skin cuz it makes ur makeup look 10x better…💬🎀

♡ prime and prep ur skin ♡ put on ur foundation

when putting on foundation it helps to apply the product onto the top of ur hand and apply with a brush for more coverage 💓🍨

♡ next, use some concealer as needed ♡ fill in ur brows

♡ now feel free to prep ur eye lids if u have some redness, but we're gonna go in with an icy eyeshadow. for this look lets do a light blueish grey tone and just put that all over our eyelid

♡ put a darker blue color on the outer corner of ur eyes, and very gently blend outwards towards ur brows as u see in the first photo above. then go in with an angelic light blue on the inner area of ur eyelid (not the inner corner) ♡ use a bit of eyeliner to make ur eyes stand-out

this makeup look is focused highly on the EYES and the lips so feel free to do ur face as u normally would, contouring, blush etc ❄️🍧

♡ go in with some GLITTERY eyeshadow to make ur eyes shine and you can NEVER have enough shimmer ♡ next put on some half lashes because they rly pull this look together and dont forget to apply mascara onto ur lower lashes to make ur eyes look fuller ♡ a little highlight under ur brows for that blingy 2000's look

now lets talk about how to do the PERFECT FROSTY LIP. u wanna start by outlining ur lips with a lip liner that is on the rosier side. nyx has a lot of good ones like that. go in with a baby pinkish or a light pink lipstick (i say both these things cuz you'll know what looks good on u) and finish off with a shimmery lipgloss

furthermore we need a yummy winter scent! invest in some yummy scents like…💬🎀

♡ soft, powdery scents

♡ warm cashmeres and cake scents

♡ the bath and body works snowflakes and cashmere scent specifically is so nostalgic to me

♡ frosty petal and berry scents

we should also be prepared to protect our gorgeous doll skin from the harsh winter weather so make sure that ur doing ur skincare accordingly! look for creamy, hydrating formulas and make sure to cleanse gently in little circles ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ after you've cleansed, use a nice rich serum to keep ur skin plump and hydrated and NOT dry.

another thing, chapped lips are a NO this winter so make sure that ur walking around with ur yummy chapstick to protect ur lips from the cold and keep them pillowy soft…💬🎀

♡ creamy lipglosses

♡ whipped soaps and body butters

WINTER ESSENTIALS ;

during the winter time, use a lotion that is on the thicker side because we should be moisturized all year round but ESPECIALLY in the winter. because its so cold, lean towards lotions that are thicker and creamier. also look out for lotions that have oils, or glycerin/sodium lactate (these are all humectants and they're FANTASTIC for hydrating ur skin).

♡ thick lotions, creams and body butters

♡ a christmas wishlist written in a pink glitter gel pen OR a fluffy pink pen

♡ chapstick and LOTS of shimmery lipgloss

♡ herbal teas and supplements

during the winter time, there we're exposed to reduced sunlight, and seasonal illnesses. and that not hot!! so make sure that ur taking supplements like vitamin D (cuz during the winter time, we tend to spend more time indoors and have less exposure to sunlight, which is crucial for vitamin D synthesis) ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ along with other things like zinc, elderberry, and other probiotics.

DISCLAIMER : its crucial for u to do ur own research when it comes to ur health so make sure that u do that before applying anything that u learn on the internet for ur own safety!…💬🎀

some teas that i recommend in the winter time is ginger tea, peppermint tea and lemon balm tea. i also rly love rosehip tea cuz it is SUCH a treat 💕

♡ hot chocolate with pink marshmallows and whipped cream

♡ a bouncy blowout

♡ big fluffy lashes

WINTER FASHION ;

winter is literally THEE season for over the top accessories like earmuffs and mittens. invest in some super cute fluffy earmuffs and gloves, fluffy boots and puffy coats with fur trimmed that are cinched at the waist to look like an adorable winter doll! mini skirts, tights and leg warmer combo is also very doll for the winter.

this winter we're giving the baby pink and white color scheme, with long silky hair, icy pink lips, victoria's secret pink perfumes and BODY GLITTER…💬🎀

on the winter wardrobe shopping list/checklist we have thick tights and stockings, thick comfy pajamas, a couple or more cute pairs of boots, a winter coat etc.

ribbons

legwarmers

thick tights

thick stockings

comfy pjs

boots

adorable winter coat

fur coat

some more things that are rly winter-esque in fashion are those fur coats. they're SO luxurious and so pretty + they keep u warm so they're an absolute STAPLE when it comes to winter fashion. look for things that are FUZZY cuz they rly radiate those amazing winter vibes.

WINTER MOOD BOARDS ;

PREPPING FOR WINTER ;

♡ buy some new body scrubs. because its so cold and we're usually covering up more during the winter months, its the perfect opportunity to work on and perfect ur body care routine so dont neglect that

♡ buy a nice fuzzy blanket or one of those heated blankets cuz shit gets cold, and we wanna stay as warm and toasty as possible 💕

[iris-qt]

𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛

ᴛʜᴇᴏᴅᴏʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛᴛ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

❆ ᴀᴄᴀᴅᴇᴍɪᴄ ʀɪᴠᴀʟꜱ | 2.4ᴋ

❆ ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ: ᴀ ʙʟɪɴᴅ ᴅᴀᴛᴇ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ʀɪᴠᴀʟꜱ, ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇᴏᴅᴏʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛᴛ, ᴛᴜʀɴꜱ ᴄʜᴀᴏᴛɪᴄ ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴀ ꜱɴᴏᴡꜱᴛᴏʀᴍ ᴛʀᴀᴘꜱ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ᴛᴏɢᴇᴛʜᴇʀ, ꜰᴏʀᴄɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏɴꜰʀᴏɴᴛ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ʙɪᴄᴋᴇʀɪɴɢ. ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ꜰᴇᴇʟɪɴɢꜱ. (Warning: cussing)

The rusted bell of the Three Broomsticks chimed as Theodore Nott strode into the pub, snowflakes following him in as his trenchcoat billowed around him.

Count on Nott to make a grand entrance.

It was dinnertime and quite packed with travelers and regulars. 

Even some Hogwarts students here and there who had either snuck out or were of age, therefore allowed to leave the castle on weekends.

Theodore nervously cracked his frozen knuckles as he slipped off his trenchcoat, leaving him in a soft cashmere turtleneck, as he took a seat in a cozy corner of the bustling yet cozy pub.

He swore to Merlin he’d hex Mattheo and the rest of the lads silly if this was some sort of prank or setup. The truth is, Theodore Nott had felt quite lonely as of late: not that he minded.

Like at all.

He loved his solidarity.

But his dear old friends had been taking it the wrong way, thinking their new, bustling social life with their romantic partners, internships, and extracurriculars or whatnot had pushed Theo away. 

After much begging and persuading (and Mattheo offering to pay for the date), they had finally gotten Theo to agree to a blind date with a girl they found that they claimed was ‘perfect’ for Theodore. 

He doubted it.

Well, if the girl came with a mute button and plenty of cigarettes to share, then perhaps. But Theo wasn’t oblivious, he saw the way girls treated him, always talking his ear off trying to charm him by faking interest in books he read or operas he adored. 

He didn’t mind talkers.

I mean his best friend was Mattheo Riddle for Merlin’s sake.

But he hated fakers.

And then he also hated people that thought they were better than him

Like Y/N Y/L/N.

Ugh.

Ok, maybe she sometimes got better grades than him, but did that make her better than him?

Fuck no.

The rusted bell of the Three Broomsticks chimed again, and Theodore glanced up from his untouched butterbeer, only to freeze mid-sip.

Speak of the devil and she shall appear.

Clad in a fluffy red scarf and beanie, no less.

Y/N Y/L/N, your scarf loose around your neck and your cheeks flushed from the cold, scanned the room with sharp, intelligent eyes. Your perfectly pressed coat betrayed not a single wrinkle, and your boots clacked against the wooden floor with unnerving precision.

His stomach sank like a poorly cast Levitation Charm.

"Of course," he muttered under his breath.

You spotted him almost instantly, brow furrowing as your gaze flicked between him and the bar. Then, you made your way over, every step radiating purpose.

"Theodore Nott," you greeted, voice dripping with suspicion as you slid into the seat across from him. "What in Merlin's name are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing, Y/L/N," Theo replied coolly, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. "But I’m guessing you’re not here for a pint and a philosophical debate about Arithmancy theories."

Your eyes narrowed. "Are you... waiting for someone?"

Theo hesitated, a dawning sense of horror creeping over him. "I might be. Why? Are you waiting for someone?"

You pulled off your scarf, setting it on the table as you glared at him with an incredible intensity, he wondered how your furrowed eyebrow creases weren’t permanent at this point. "You’re kidding me."

Realization hit them both like a rogue Bludger.

"Wait," you began, your voice dangerously calm. "Are you my blind date?"

Theo groaned, rubbing his temples. "No. No way. This has Mattheo written all over it. That git."

You let out a sharp laugh, equal parts exasperation and disbelief. "Unbelievable. Your friends set you up with me? Are they trying to ruin your life?"

"Clearly," Theo drawled, his tone dry. "I mean, of all the girls at Hogwarts, they pick the one that thinks she’s smarter than me"

Your jaw dropped dramatically. "I don’t think I’m smarter than you, Nott. I am smarter than you. You just can’t handle the fact that I’ve beaten you in every subject except Potions."

"Oh, please," he scoffed. "You only beat me in Charms last term because Flitwick is clearly biased."

"Biased?" you threw your hands up. "I wrote a twenty-four-inch essay comparing historical uses of nonverbal magic to modern applications. What did you write about, Theo? Oh, right. You didn’t write anything because you were too busy sulking after losing the chess tournament."

"I wasn’t sulking," Theo snapped, cheeks flushing. "I was... reflecting."

You smirked, clearly enjoying yourself. "Right. Reflecting with a scowl so deep it could rival Draco's pockets"

He rolled his eyes, though he couldn’t help the corner of his mouth from twitching upward. "You’re insufferable."

“Aw Theo, you can do better than that..” You pause to scan the menu as you steal Theodore’s butterbeer, much to his chagrin as he mutters something under his breath. “What was that?” you smirk, bringing your eyes up in a teasing manner. “Tryna hex me there, Theodore Nott?”

He purses his lips as you reach out to shake snowflakes out of his hair with a snicker.

Did your eyes deceive you or did he blush? Nah it was just the biting cold.

“Let me guess. Silently judging what I’m about to order?” you scoff, trying to distract from the awkward silence after your intimate gesture.

"Only if it’s that ridiculous concoction with extra marshmallows," he retorted.

"Fine," you said, lifting your chin. "Then I’ll take two extra marshmallows just to annoy you."

Theo chuckled despite himself, shaking his head. "Merlin help me, this is going to be a disaster."

"Oh, it already is," you quipped, raising a sarcastic toast with Theo's butterbeer you stole earlier. "But don’t worry, Nott. At least you’ll have something to sulk about for the next month."

He shook his head, a smirk tugging at his lips. "And you’ll have a great story to tell everyone about how you drove me mad in under an hour."

"Wouldn’t be the first time," you muttered with a smirk of your own.

And as the tension between them slowly gave way to reluctant amusement, neither of them noticed the group of grinning faces peeking in through the pub’s frosted window.

The iced window of the Three Broomsticks provided just enough visibility for Mattheo Riddle to squint through, his nose practically pressed against the glass.

“Move over, Mattheo,” Pansy hissed, shoving him to the side. “I can’t see a thing with your massive head in the way.”

“It’s a normal-sized head, thank you very much,” Mattheo muttered, but he shifted slightly to let Pansy peer through.

Behind them, Draco Malfoy stood with his arms crossed, looking every bit the reluctant participant. “This is ridiculous. We’re grown wizards. Spying through pub windows is beneath us.”

“And yet,” Blaise Zabini drawled from where he leaned lazily against the wall, “here you are. Standing outside in the snow like a commoner.”

Draco huffed. “I’m only here to witness the fallout. I give it twenty minutes before one of them storms out.”

“Fifteen,” Blaise countered, pulling out a pocket watch. “And they’ll start warming up to each other.”

“I’m saying ten,” Pansy whispered, squinting through the fogged glass. “Shit, look at Theo’s face. He already looks like he’s plotting her demise.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” Mattheo said, grinning as he craned his neck to get a better view. “He’s clearly smitten.”

Pansy snorted. “Smitten? He looks like he’d rather be dueling a Hungarian Horntail than sitting across from Y/N.”

“Well, Y/N doesn’t look thrilled either,” Blaise noted, smirking as he caught a glimpse of you animatedly gesturing at Theo.

“Doesn’t matter,” Mattheo interjected, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet, a wicked grinch-like grin on his face. “This is going exactly as I planned. The tension, the banter... it’s perfect. By the end of the night, they’ll either be snogging or plotting a joint murder spree.”

“Optimistic of you,” Draco muttered.

“Shut up, Draco,” Mattheo shot back. “You’re the one who said they’d ‘never even stay for the date.’ And look! There they are. Sitting. Together.”

Pansy tilted her head, watching as you leaned forward, your hands waving in exaggerated frustration. Theo responded with a slow, deliberate smirk, clearly enjoying riling you up.

“Is it just me,” Pansy whispered, “or does Theo look like he’s having fun?”

Draco leaned in to take a look, his silver eyes narrowing. “He’s smirking. That’s usually a bad sign.”

“Not this time,” Blaise said, his grin widening. “He only smirks like that when he’s impressed. Y/N must have said something clever.”

“I told you,” Mattheo exclaimes triumphantly. “They’re perfect for each other.”

“Or they’ll duel right in the middle of the pub,” Draco muttered, though even he couldn’t hide his curiosity.

“I still think it’s sweet,” Pansy said with a satisfied sigh. “Even if Theo’s too stubborn to admit it, he needs someone who can keep up with him. And Y/N is the only person who ever has.”

The group fell silent for a moment, watching as you mockingly raised your hot chocolate, your eyes sparkling with sarcastic delight. Theo rolled his eyes, but there was a trace of a smile tugging at his lips.

“Look at that,” Blaise said softly. “He’s smiling.”

“Smirking,” Draco corrected.

“Close enough,” Mattheo said, clapping his hands together. “Operation Set Theo And Y/N Up is officially a success.”

“It’s been fifteen minutes,” Pansy noted, glancing at Blaise’s watch.

“Pay up, Draco,” Blaise said smugly, holding out his hand.

Draco scowled but reluctantly reached into his pocket, pulling out a handful of sickles. “This is the last time I bet on Theo’s love life.”

“Shush!” Pansy hissed. “They’re looking this way!”

The four of them ducked down in a comically uncoordinated scramble, huddling against the frosty wall.

Inside, Theo’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, his gaze flicking toward the window. “Did you see something?” he asked, turning back to you.

You raised an eyebrow. “What, like your dignity? No, I don’t think so.”

He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Merlin save me.”

Outside, Mattheo stifled a laugh. “They’re going to kill us when they find out.”

“Worth it,” Pansy whispered, grinning.

The frosted glass of the Three Broomsticks didn’t do much to shield Mattheo and the others from the biting wind, and after an hour of spying, their enthusiasm had significantly dwindled.

“Alright, I’ve seen enough,” Draco announced, brushing snow off his shoulders. “They’re bickering like usual. This is going nowhere.”

“Give it time,” Mattheo said stubbornly, though his teeth were starting to chatter. “Theo plays the long game.”

“You’re the only one playing a game,” Blaise said, adjusting his scarf. “And I’m freezing. Let’s go before Pansy turns into an icicle.”

Pansy glared at him. “I’m fine, thanks for asking. But for the record, if I get frostbite, I’m hexing you all.”

As if to punctuate her point, a sharp gust of wind whipped through the alley, sending a flurry of snow right into their faces.

“Alright, fine,” Mattheo grumbled, reluctantly stepping back from the window. “Let’s go before we all catch dragon pox.”

“You mean frostbite,” Draco corrected.

“Same thing,” Mattheo muttered, trudging away.

The group disappeared into the swirling snow, their laughter fading as they made their way back to the castle.

Inside the pub, Theo watched the window suspiciously, his brows furrowed.

“Dude, what are you looking at?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as you sipped his butterbeer you stole and your hot chocolate in turn, just to annoy him.

“Nothing,” Theo muttered, shaking his head. He was sure he’d seen movement, but it was probably just the wind.

You raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “Right. Because glaring out the window like that is completely normal behavior.”

“I don’t expect you to understand,” Theo shot back, leaning back in his chair. “Not everyone walks through life oblivious to their surroundings.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you said with mock concern, resting your chin on your hand. “Should I be worried about the snowflakes plotting against us? Or maybe it’s a herd of rogue unicorns coming to rescue me from this disaster of a date?”

Theo rolled his eyes, taking a deliberate sip of his butterbeer as he dragged it away from you. “If only they’d hurry up.”

Their exchange was cut short when the door to the pub opened, letting in a fresh gust of icy wind. A group of travelers stumbled in, bundled in layers and dusted with snow, their voices loud and cheerful. The sudden influx of cold air sent a shiver through the room, and you tugged your cloak tighter around your shoulders.

“It’s getting worse out there,” one of the newcomers said, stamping snow off their boots. “Could barely see five feet in front of me.”

Madam Rosmerta appeared from behind the bar, her expression turning serious as she listened to the chatter. She glanced toward the windows, where the snow was now falling thick and fast, sticking to the glass and obscuring the view outside.

Theo followed her gaze, frowning. “Looks like we’re in for a real storm.”

“Brilliant,” you muttered, leaning back in her chair. “Just what we needed.”

Before Theodore could fire back a response, Madam Rosmerta clapped her hands, drawing the room’s attention.

“Listen up, everyone!” she called out, her voice cutting through the hum of conversation. “I’ve just received word from Hogsmeade Station. The storm’s picking up faster than expected. Roads are closing, and it’s not safe to travel. If you’re here, you’re staying until it clears.”

A collective murmur of concern rippled through the pub.

You blinked, sitting up straighter. “Wait, what does she mean by ‘staying’?”

Theo groaned, rubbing his temples. “She means we’re stuck here, Y/L/N. Do try to keep up.”

Madam Rosmerta walked over to their table, her usual warm demeanor tinged with apology. “Sorry about this, dears. It’s for everyone’s safety. We’ve got spare rooms upstairs if you need them.”

You stared at her, mouth slightly open. “You mean we’re stranded together?”

“Looks like it,” Theo muttered, looking like he was already mentally preparing to endure the ordeal.

“Wonderful,” you said flatly, sinking back into your seat. “Truly the cherry on top of this perfect evening.”

Theo shot her a sidelong glance, his lips twitching with a reluctant smirk. “Cheer up, Y/L/N. It’s not every day you get the privilege of spending the night in my company. Imagine how jealous the others will be when you tell them”

“If I had a wand right now,” Y/N muttered, “I’d turn you into a snowman and leave you outside.”

The storm outside howled louder, sealing their fate as the pub doors were bolted shut.

@animatedglittergraphics-n-more for divider

Part 2 perhaps…

[jadeshifting]

🫀 SHIFTMAS

day 1. WHAT’S THE BIG CHRISTMAS DAY VIBE IN YOUR DR? is it pure morning chaos with wrapping paper flying everywhere? a soft, intimate moment with hot coffee and warm blankets? or something cinematic, with golden light streaming through the windows and everyone gathered together?

🫀 A SLYTHERIN CHRISTMAS MORNING (IN THE DUNGEONS, OF COURSE)

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

The Slytherin common room, bathed in the muted light of the Black Lake, had been transformed overnight into a vision of winter enchantment for Christmas morning. The usual dark grandeur of the room now glittered with holiday splendor, every detail sparkling, from the emerald baubles twinkling on the tree to the enchanted snowflakes floating through the air.

By dawn, the common room was already alive with energy. I’ve already found myself a spot to lounge on one of the emerald-tufted sofas, wrapped in a deep green cashmere robe lined with white fur, my dark hair pinned back with silver holly leaves. I sip from a crystal goblet filled with spiced hot chocolate, laced with cinnamon and a hint of something stronger. The rich scent of vanilla and peppermint fills the air. Pansy sits beside me in a similar fashion, the crackling fire glinting against her bright eyes.

Theo levitates a platter of enchanted snowflake pastries, which explode into a flurry of edible glitter when bitten. “It’s festive,” he smirks. Mattheo, next to him, nearly chokes with laughter as he brushes a dusting of silver from his dark sweater, which clings to him in an unusually classy way. Blaise lounges beside him, in silk pajamas of deep plum, raising an eyebrow at them but making no effort to intervene. He’s perfectly composed, as always.

Across the room, Draco (who’s donning an emerald-green scarf gifted to him by Pansy, though he thinks it looks stupid. it does) is in the midst of an intense Wizard’s Chess match with Millicent. The chess pieces are enchanted for the occasion, their usual stern visages swapped for festive attire: tiny silver antlers atop the knights, and the pawns wearing miniature fur-lined cloaks.

“Your knight’s antlers are crooked,” Draco says, smirking as he adjusts them with a flick of his wand. “Can’t have your army looking undignified, can we?”

Millicent rolls her eyes, but smiles, nudging him playfully as her rook absolutely obliterates one of Draco’s bishops in a shower of green sparks. “Dignified enough to beat you, it seems.”

A long mahogany table near the hearth is heavy with an extravagant breakfast spread. Silver platters gleam with roasted chestnuts, sugar-dusted pastries, and crystal bowls of fruit that glimmer as though they were plucked from a magical orchard just moments ago. Delicate tea sets, etched with serpentine patterns, pour and serve themselves, and goblets of mulled wine float gracefully through the air, refilling when beckoned.

We all gather around the opulent ten-foot-tall tree that dwarfs all of us when we sit beside it. We take our time opening our gifts, in no rush, instead filling most of our time with eating, sipping out of our goblets, and laughing. Pansy, Lorenzo and I open our gifts with exaggerated, dramatic glee while, quite the opposite, Draco and Theo make every attempt to stay measured (no matter how much they love their gifts, which I know they did, because I devoured at gifts this year.)

As the morning fades to early afternoon and the dawn drinking begins to take it’s toll, the room gets gradually louder, though the antics luckily don’t result in any fights. The only close call is when Theo charms a garland to slither like a snake around Draco’s neck, earning him a glare, though Blaise counters it and frees Draco’s neck before he can send a real hex back.

🫀 Though everyone’s lives are pretty often filled with expectations and burdens of our legacies one way or another, we’re more than friends in times like this — we can pretend this is the family we were born with.

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧──❅•

(Technically a day late, pls forgive 🪦)

Huge thank you to @hrrtshape and her iconic, glamorous self for the challenge. the motivation is crazyyyy amazing <3

[allthingsscented]

reorganized my bins today for late fall, here's what i've got up front to easily grab and use throughout november:

Fall:

- Leaves

- White Pumpkin & Chai

- Golden Clementine & Amber

- Ruby Apple & Rosewood

- Brown Sugar & Fig

- Coffee & Whiskey

- Sweet Whiskey

- Cozy Vanilla Bourbon

- Fairytale

- Toasted Pear & Praline

Winter:

- Be Joyful

- Fireside Flurries

- Gingerbread Latte

- Winter Peach Marshmallow

- Jolly Gingerbread Village

- Woodlands

- Snowflakes & Cashmere

- Frosted Coconut Snowball

- Winter Cherry Blossom

[wifetomegatron]

a study in metal and silk. mtmte imagines.

I think there's just something about the stark contrast between fabric and metal that makes me feral. The sharp, striking counterpoint of sentio metallico against human skin. It makes me lightheaded to think of the gentle brushes and soft strokes exchanged between cybertronians and their humans lovers — how painfully tender these titans try to be with hands that have most likely torn ships apart.

Fort Max holding your coat up and letting you glide one arm in after the other, cashmere wool against cyberium — and to think that when in oil form, it has the chance of poisoning you. Yet welded into his armor, the metal was ( what you claimed ) your favorite thing about him. You'd pepper kisses along his servos, feather-light and playful, against each finger to thank him for being such a gentlemech. He was always at a loss when it came to your soft gestures as if his hands hadn't been bloodied and torn and scathed with energon. Yet he doesn't have the strength to protest when you lay your cheek against his palm, which was big enough to cover your entire head, even with his mass displaced.

First Aid helping his beloved into their shirt, your eyes barely open as the sunlight hits you square in the face. You wanted to ask him why he had opened the curtains this early in the morning, on a Sunday too, but you can't seem to focus on anything else but his servos. The bed creaked and dipped on his side, the mattress straining under his weight even if you've lined it with a layer of metal below. He looks funny against the pristine blankets, and despite his reputation for a set of steady hands, they were still bulky and square. So he takes his time looping the buttons into their respective holes, and you rest your forehead against his shoulder, already lulling back to sleep. Your heartbeat was a strange, distant sound against the humming of his spark.

Minimus slowly eased his human out of their ballet slippers, untying the ribbons one by one: careful, patient, servos already soothing the irritated skin. The pink satin looks alien against his grip, out of place. And yet he handles them with care, knowing how much you prize them. His mouth ghosts over your knee, trailing down as he massages your ankle. He's saying something about not pushing yourself too hard, and you want to call him out for being a hypocrite, but it's impossible to speak when you're drowning in the sensation of his touch as it brushes over the hem of your skirt. So you sit in silence; admiring, watching, as he continues to give you a lecture (lovingly, of course).

Rodimus, adjusting you as you cling onto his back, arms looped around his neck as he grips both of your thighs on either side of his waist. He gives you a playful squeeze, and you laugh into his jugular cables, high heels — black leather and polymer — dangling off your fingers as he piggybacks you back home. He tells you that you should've gone with the more practical choice, and you tease him about sounding like his co-captain. Relishing in the subtle thrum of his frame against your chest, slumping forward to press your lips against his cheek — smooth, unbending, yet warm to the touch. Different from your perception of what metal feels like, you have to remind yourself living metal is far from cold. 

Ratchet sliding your gloves over your hands, the article of clothing an inconvenient little thing to a Cybertronian. And yet, for you, they help keep the cold out — especially when insulated by wool. The golden brooch by the ends of each wrist glinted under the streetlamp. Above, snowflakes danced in the light, a choreographed ballet conducted by the gentle wind. You tell him you feel warmer already, yet the medic doesn't seem convinced, holding your arms and lifting your fingers to his intake. He ex-vents, once, twice, the air warm enough for you to feel past the fabric. He then lays your palms across his chest and scoffs, pulling you flush against him. Ratchet says that if you were cold, you should've said it ages ago.

(suggestive, mdni!)

Megatron kneeling before you, servos dextrous as they give your stockings an experimental tug upwards, before rolling them down to your knee in one fluid movement. He hovers his intake over your inner thigh, the stiff arch of his helm, dipping against the curve of your skin. Your breathing quickened, and he seemed to hear this, already moving to undo the other leg. He holds you like you'll break any second. As if you were a porcelain doll, a thing of glass. You tell him that you can be malleable. That you can learn to bend and embrace him — and he seems drunk at the thought. He pushed the straps of your chemise, thin and flimsy, down each shoulder. Easing you back on the bed. And the fabric pooled around your waist to reveal your chest, silk moving like water against the seams of his plating.

[amybizarre]

🎄✨𝓐𝓭𝓿𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓢𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓼 𝓝𝓻. 𝓣𝔀𝓮𝓷𝓽𝔂 𝓞𝓷𝓮✨🎄

𝓟𝓻𝓸𝓶𝓹𝓽: Christmas Sweater

𝓐𝓵𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓷𝓪𝓽𝓮: All

𝓣𝔂𝓹𝓮: Headcanons

𝓞𝓹𝓮𝓷 𝓽𝓸𝓭𝓪𝔂'𝓼 𝓭𝓸𝓸𝓻!

The Wallys and you are dedicating a day to wear cringy/ ugly/ cool/ funny Christmas Sweaters! Here' s the sweaters they chose!

OG

He chose a classic style sweater. It's blue and yellow just like his cardigan! Plus: Little apples are incorporated into the patterns!

Opposite

Initially didn't want to participate. You threatened him with being dissappointed and he caved. He came in a red sweater that only had a frowning reindeer on it at the front.

RF

He was really cheeky this time. He wore his normal black turtleneck sweater and simply taped a hand mirror to the front. Due to his height, the others would see themselves in the mirror. He proudly named his creation the "Ugly or Pretty Sweater depending on who's looking at it".

Gray

His sweater is also a classic style one with fir trees and snowflakes on it. Needless to say, it's all grey- But super fasionable!

Royal

His sweater is red with golden-yellow stripes. There's the typical small Christmas-y patterns on the stripes and some hearts. On the chest is an amazing embroidery of his royal crest!

Hunter

His sweater is dark gray with tiny skulls wearing santa hats. In the front it says "This is as jolly as I get".

Actor

Super glamorous cashmere sweater. "I'm the gift" is embroidered on the front.

Priest

Got a black sweater with the classic cringy type of pattern on it. There's a big ass cross on the front though-

Mob

The only one in a white sweater. There's a big apple on the back, much like with his coat, and a big ass eye on the front. Around the eye is a very festive Chrismas wreath! :3

Butch

Butcher's sweater says: "Dw, Santa doesn't believe in you either." The writing is sourrounded by little embroidered presents that are tumbling downwards into flames. The sweater is red.

Killer

He didn't have one, so you gave him one of yours. It's also red and has a classic pattern with Christmas trees on it. It's way too big on him, which makes him look kinda cute.

Watcher

Oh, a rare blue sweater! With white stripes framed by fir-branches and reindeer. His viewers are incorporated into the design, gracing the middle of the white stripes.

Reboot

Wears his standard sweater. Except the heart on it got replaced by a Christmas tree.

Vampire

His sweater is of a very dark grey. On it are lots of little bats with santa hats!

Jazzy

His sweater is blue! The pattern is basically cartoonish fairylights wrapped around his arms and torso, which are embroidered.

Swan

He got a black sweater with two swans in the front, elegantly framing a Christmas wreath.

Lovesick

His sweater is pink and has hearts in the otherwise Christmas-y patterns. His sweater says: "I can get you on the naughty list~"

You!

Yours is red with little santa faces on it. Your sweater says "Santa's Favorite Ho" (No offense, I'm joking-)

[lemon-towne]

No one asked.

Michaela Hcs !! (Mainly hstv Michaela)

As a kid she probably hated wearing hair barrettes, no bcs of how they looked but she hated the feeling of them

Her nails are almost always done, whether she’s wearing nail polish or she gets acrylics, but she didn’t rlly start to tend to them until she became an adult

She lets ppl know that she’s ready to go to sleep by doing two things, putting on her mumu and wrapping her hair up (I fucking loveee mumus)

When it’s wash day, leave her ALONE. Washing her hair is a multi hour process

Just like Michael, she ALWAYS smells good, she probably developed signature scents over the years, but her most recognizable ones (that you can get and smell for yourself!) are Paris amour from bath and body works, Snowflakes and Cashmere from bath and body works, and as an adult she probably switched to Marc Jacob’s Daisy (I have all of these) and if she’s feeling rlly fancy, Black Opium

When moving in with Victor (Tori), they mutually agreed that one section of the bathroom is hers and hers alone, it’s where she keeps all of her body washes, soaps, sugar scrubs, hair products, etc (not makeup, feels like she would have a vanity in their room)

She mainly wears gold jewelry opposed to silver

During speed skating szn, tracksuits are her best friends.

Despite her nails being long, she can still put in her contacts and take them out

[fruitchouli]

the more controversial a bath and body works fragrance is, the more likely it is to be interesting and slay. the negative reviews are so much more helpful than the positive because a lot of times what they don’t like about it are things that appeal to me (not sweet enough, old lady, too spicy, etc). when i see a scent with overwhelmingly positive reviews, i know it will be the most boring thing in the entire world like SNOWFLAKES AND CASHMERE!!!!!$! u know what’s a controversial scent? strawberry poundcake. and jolly gingerbread village. both slay. also the best scent from the ballet line is the most controversial, ballet nights. anyways it’s time for SAS soon.

[writing-whump]

Cold with a chance of fluff

Seline comes down with a cold. Isaiah is frustrated she didn't tell him. Some fluff and cuddles.

Isaiah came home around 5 pm, snowflakes melting in his black waves as he shook off his coat.

"Sel! I waited for you in front of the uni. Where were you?" His eyes widened as he approached the living room, where she was wrapped in blankets and her fluffy bathrobe with an ereader on her lap.

"Wait. You didn't go anywhere today?" he said with disbelief.

Seline shrugged, leaning against the cushions behind her. "Nope. My throat was all scratchy yesterday so I thought I would take an easy day and maybe the cold wouldn't go all out."

"A cold?"

"Yeah. It's been really going around at work. 7 people called in sick this week, can you believe that? As if the Christmas coming closer and the promise of holiday makes everyone unguarded."

Seline was rather eager to play the whole thing off. It was nothing. Sh felt the cold coming up for some time, hoping she could fight it off without any symptoms. The first indicator were the giant aphtas on her right cheek. They spread around at the start of the week, but there was still a chance they would go away if she just didn't poke at them...

But then the mucus started to gather at the back of her throat and it hurt to swallow. And she was tired and cold, even more than usual, going to the bathroom several times a day to just hold her hands under the hot water to unfreeze. It was horrible how cold she was after sitting for one hour while everyone else praised how well the university building's heating system worked this year.

Being sick always meant free days when she was small. Her mom fussing, making her honeyed tea and overflowing with home remedies like onions with sugar in a jar to take little spoons off and snuggling up in blankets by the fireplace with her favourite movies running in the backround.

During the decade of her travelling with the train back and forth, sickness became tiring. It was a gamble between 'I don't feel too bad but if I have to travel for two hours to the city and back I might' and the stress of when was she strong enough to return again. The darkness falling early, the frozen streets covered with snow, the sheer coldness in the air, the feeling of being stranded in the city...

She felt stranded even now. Away from her family cushioning, sick with something stupid and small that shouldn't stress her out. At least she had 5 days free in a row, since there was a holiday of some sort she didn't even know the name off and because she had classes only on three days and work was dying out. Students didn't really want to work on their thesis before the big holidays. She had some stuff to hand it, but her head felt stuffed with cotton from the early morning, so she gave up that.

Instead, she resolved to fight the cold with tea, warmth and movies, hopefully strong enough till the evening, when the boys came home.

She was not going to be stressed out, emotional and whiny over a cold, just cause she wasn't home, didn't like anything she cooked and wished for nothing more than a fresh warm soup. No way she was that childish.

And no way she was going to ask or demand too much again. She had asked guys to stay with her at least until the next train came. She asked if she could tag along for a Christmas Market visit or a lecture or if they would wait for her to show her a way to a pub every local knew but she never heard off.

No way she was going to ask anything like that again.

Isaiah still looked stunned as he unwrapped his cashmere scarf with black-gray-white stripes. "And you didn't think to mention that in the morning? Or message me?"

"It's nothing serious. And the end of the year is stressful for you, you are handing in your master thesis proposal after all."

Isaiah regarded her with a frown. "Did you eat anything?"

"Eggs and bread. We are out of both though." And Matthew's protein shakes. Cause there was nothing that could fill you up so reliably while the taste didn't matter. And you could make it with boiling water! Anything warm was a plus.

Isaiah scoffed, going behind the sofa into the kitchen, opening the cupboards in a quick succession. "I'll make you a soup. Beans and noddles sound okay?" He already had beans in the water since yesterday evening.

Warm soup of anything sounded wonderful, though she never heard about noodles combined in a bean soup. "You don't have to-"

"Do you like it or not?" His voice was frustrated.

"Ah, yes, of course," she said a little coyly.

Isaiah threw the beans in and cooked the noodles parallely next to it. The kitchen soon warmed up with the smells and light that spread over the floor.

Seline stood up from her little nest on the sofa, feeling obligated to contribute in some way.

Her head began to pound almost immediately when she got into a standing position and she felt terribly self-conscious about the bathrobe and her pyjamas. She didn't bother changing, knowing she would just sweat through anything and the loose pjs were the most comfortable.

Isaiah watched her from the corner of his eye, steering the soup and adding salt and paprika inside. "Sit down."

"Can I-"

"Please, don't." His voice was weirdly clipped.

He didn't give her a hello kiss or reach to hug her or touch her. It was rather strange, making her chest all tight.

She recoiled in response just a little, hugging herself.

"Go sit down," he said, tone softening. Then he turned a little towards her, cupping the side of her face. "And take your temperature as well."

Seline leaned into his touch just a little, enjoying the warmth of his palm against her skin and the weird cotton feeling inside her scull. "Okay," she said with a small voice.

Staggering back onto the couch was a relief. She huddled back into the blankets. Even reaching for the handkerchief inside her bathrobe felt embarrassing, cause what would he thing? It was a bad idea to have come here, she should have just stayed in her room and be gross there...

Isaiah brought her a green tea with lemon just a few minutes later, gingerly putting it onto the table. "Sugar?"

"No, thank you." Her voice was all clogged up, but she was too shy to blow her nose in front of him. Oh hell, she was being so irrational, even to herself.

Isaiah sat down beside her, stirring the tea with care, taking the tea bag out on a small plate on the tray he brought.

"Are you going to say that everytime I try to give you something? 'No, thanks'?"

Her head snapped back a little from suprise. "What?"

Isaiah pouted, looking at the tea cup in his hands. "You didn't tell me you were sick. And you are all embarrassed and red and flinch, when I get close."

"Aw, come on, Isaiah. It's not like that." Seline looked for the handkrief, pulling it out of the bathrobe pocket to wave it at him. "You can't seriously want to see this, can you?"

"Oh? And what's up with all the 'why don't you want me near, Isaiah?' Or 'you feeling sick, can I help you, Isaiah?'. Or my favourite 'I couldn't find you disgusting if I tried'?"

She shrank at the reminder. "But that's dif-"

"You think I could do anything less for you?"

"You don't have to do it just because you owe me-"

"Owe you?" His eyebrows shot up.

Yeah, what was she supposed to say to that? They just started dating. Sure, they saw each other in some embarrassing or vulnerable situations, but Isaiah's issues were more serious than hers. And he didn't owe her so much as she owed him for having such a difficult argumentative personality, for picking up fights and asking sensitive questions and driving people mad with topics they were too tired or unwilling to talk about...about for being a witch that wasn't willing to get along or to tolerate rules or get along with others, who walked around the city just finding things she disagreed with, feeling alienated and and alone and like the world was against her.

Isaiah came, made her break her rules about getting involved with wolves. Then he made her feel safe and fascinated and like she wasn't a burden to wait for at the train station or in front of the University or ask about a German word that still escapes her after living in Austria for 14 years...

Isaiah slid closer on the sofa, taking both of her hands in his, snotty handkerchief still balled up in one of her fists.

"What if I want to do this? What then?" he asked, leaning closer to her, forehead almost touching hers.

Her breath hitched a little and she reddened at the closeness.

Isaiah's lips brushed against her ear. "Didn't I tell you already? You could do anything to me and I wouldn't mind?"

She looked up at him, drinking in the intensity of his sea green eyes from this close, the warmth and smell of his cologne radiating from his skin....

And then she sneezed. Right against his neck.

"Oh, I'm so sorry-" she pressed her hand against her running nose, her throat tickling and ears burning with emerassment.

Isaiah chuckled, hugging her close abrupty. He seemed to have realized that where words didn't work, touch would work just fine.

She sniffled against his arms, enjoying being balled up. He rubbed her back, face burying into her hair, still chuckling.

"It's not funny," she protested healf-heartedly, mind easing a little. She wiggled in his hold, reaching for the handkerchief, face slightly turned away as she blew her nose and cleaned her upper lip.

"Gow abway, you'll cwatch it."

He drew away just enough to have a good view at her, both hands going into her hair, pulled them aside from her face. "I'll not. If I should, I would already. And if I will, so what?"

She rolled her eyes, but relaxed in his hold. Isaiah wrapped her in his arms and she squeaked as he threw himself against the pillows on the sofa with her tucked against his chest.

Seline melted. His arms were strong and his chest was warm and clean and she snuggled her head closer against his chest, one hand bracing against it. His heartbeat was fast against her palm.

They stayed like that, wrapped in each other like pancakes, when a sharp peeping sound came from the kitchen. Seline almost dozed off, when he gently wiggled himself out, pushing her against the pillows and throwing a blanket over her.

A few minutes later, he returned with a steaming bowl of soup, beans and noodles with an excellent smell that had her shaking the last remnants of sleep as she lifted herself in a sitting position.

Isaiah placed the bowl and the spoon in her hands carefully, sitting down next to her with one of his own, smiling proudly.

"This is delicious," she said as she took the first sip. It was hot and well-flavored, immediately warming up her insides and soothing her raw throat.

"Don't sound so surprised," he said with a laugh, finally starting to eat himself instead of just watching her.

"I'm not. It's the main reason Matthew and I keep you around," she teased.

Could she really be so lucky? A handsome guy who was so caring and sweet to her, actually making an effort, was intellectually stimulating on most days and...could even cook?

Isaiah's smile only widened at that. "I would hope so." His eyebrows met in concern as he watched her. "How are you feeling? Does your head hurt?"

"I'm way better already. I really just need a bit of peace and quiet and...." Seline watched as Isaiah's smile fell, letting go of the spoon on the way to her lips. "And you, if you, ehmm..." she whispered, voice trailing away.

Isaiah's face lit up instantly, almost spilling the soup. "If you allow me, I'll spoil you rotten, my lady."

@bellysoupset

[lunarw0rks]

Both&Body works sprays i would giv to some of the COD characters w little to no explanation ✨🪻

Price: warm vanilla sugar / champagne honey apple lmao. He givs me fall vibes

Gaz: in the stars / coco paradise bc he so gorgeous 🥰

Ghost: gingham / gingham gorgeous…… to freshen him from being dead on the inside rip

Soap: strawberry pound cake / strawberry snow flakes. He so bby gurl!!! 💕😔💕

Valeria: into the night / coconut glow for the hottie

Rudy: pure wonder

Alejandro: snowflakes&cashmere…. His jacket looks comfy…. Drop the brand plsss

Konig: thousand wishes / gingham fresh to stop his snipper hood from being so musty😔

Graves: jap cherry blossom

WOOYEAH WOOYEAH WOOYEAH