#so I may pull out my music before the decorations. but that’s been my tradition the past couple years

[nothinggold13]

scrolling through tumblr polls asking “when do you start listening to Christmas music?” and then listing a bunch of dates. no. listen.

I start listening to Christmas music whenever I put up my decorations, and I put up my decorations whenever my heart needs it to be Christmas. this can be any time.

[goldenretriever-nicknelson]

Story of Us [P.P]

A/n: I don't know how I wrote this but I actually managed to before I went back to Uni and I'm so proud of myself! This is very angsty and lets just say I'm sorry. Yes it's based off of one of my favourite Taylor Swift songs.

Peter and reader are older but nwh didn't happen.

Pairing: MCU!Peter Parker x Stark!reader

WC: 2.2k

Warnings: angst, lots of angst, mentions of grief, implied mental health issues, (brief) detail and mention of SA (drunk guy tries to hook up with reader who doesn’t want to), breakup, some violence (punching), implied sexual themes, underage drinking - if there's anything I've forgotten let me know!

“You and Peter are so lucky.”

“Imagine finding your soulmate so early on.” 

“You two will have beautiful kids.” 

The words that others had spoken about you over the past year echoed in your ear. Compliments about you and Peter being the best couple, that you were going to save the universe together one day. Yet here you were alone, travelling to the annual Avengers New Years party. 

And it was all your fault. 

You had almost chickened out of going at all, wanting to spend another day in your sweatpants eating through leftover Christmas food. The Avengers and Peter’s aunt May hadn’t wanted you to spend Christmas alone so they had invited you over, sent food and facetimed you trying to encourage you to participate in the holiday spirit. Usually Peter was enough to bring you joy even when you were just friends but even he wasn’t there anymore. 

How could you enjoy any festivities without the one man who had been there through everything, supported you and protected you? Tony was gone and now Peter was too. You were fed up with losing everyone so you’d stayed well out of everyone’s way. If you weren’t close to anyone, you couldn’t lose them. 

May had scheduled sessions for you with a therapist in the New Year, the same one she had seen after the blip and after her husband had passed. She had offered to drive you herself too. Most people might find it awkward to stay in contact with your ex’s family but May had always treated you like her own especially after Tony died and you had always been grateful to her as she had been to you for looking after Peter. 

The driver of your taxi announced you had arrived and you were pulled out of your trance, your eyes drawn to the Avengers compound that was decorated in bright lights and Christmas decorations. At least they had still continued with tradition. 

You took a deep breath as you exited the car, ironing down your dress once more with your hands and putting a smile on your face, however fake it may be. The music was playing loudly as you came closer to the building joined with the chorus of laughter and cheer. 

Your heart sank as you spotted the statute of Tony and Natasha they had built. Engraved below read “The real heroes, forever remembered”. You fought back your tears and shook your head, walking in and putting your smile back on. 

All you had to do was stay until midnight and then you could make a swift exit. That had been the plan anyway and then you had seen him. 

Peter Parker. Your ex boyfriend and love of your life, laughing away with Sam and Bucky and smiling wide. His brown curls looked messy as if his hair had been ruffled several times and no doubt by the duo that was standing in front of him. He was wearing his usual party shirt, the same one you had drunkenly cried on many times and the one he had kissed you in when the clock struck midnight this time last year. 

The room was crowded and yet his eyes still managed to find yours across the sea of drunken people. His smile fell ever so slightly but there was a kindness in his eyes as he looked at you and you could tell he was as nervous as you. 

You quickly looked away and went to the kitchen to make yourself a drink. Even though you were underage, no thanks to the blip, a little alcohol wouldn’t hurt. Dutch courage, as your Dad would say. 

The first shot of alcohol had just gone down when someone was pulling the empty shot glass away from you. “Hey! Hey!” 

You sighed and turned around to see no one other than Doctor Strange himself chastising you for underage drinking. 

“This is reserved for the adults.” Strange sighed and vanished the bottle of alcohol through a portal to another room. 

“Do you ever stop being a killjoy?” You crossed your arms and glared at him in true Stark fashion, noticing Peter walking over from the corner of your eye and getting nervous again. 

“With you and Peter drinking underage, I might just celebrate the new year in another universe. Less stressful when you’re made of paint.” Strange gave an amused smile at his own joke and started to walk away, leaving Peter headed straight for you. 

Your heart picked up its pace, threatening to explode as Peter’s eyes met yours. His honey brown eyes almost drew you in but you couldn’t give in. You quickly pretended that someone else had caught your attention and darted out of the kitchen, heading for your old room. 

“Hey pretty girl.” 

A stranger, a little bit older than you, stopped you in your path and grabbed your arm. He was tall with dark hair, eyes the same colour as Peter’s but nowhere near as intoxicating or warm. You recognised him from when he would sometimes work with the Avengers. His jacket had the classic SHIELD logo and you scoffed. 

“Either you’re in fancy dress or you’re really bad at being a covert agent.” You pushed him off of you and laughed but the agent guy wasn’t having any of it. He cornered you near the bathroom and placed his hand on the wall by the side of your face, trapping you as he inched closer. You smelt alcohol on his breath and the way he was looking at you sickened you to your stomach. 

“The famous Y/n Stark, complete with the wit to match the name.” He smirked and went to touch your face but you moved your head away, ready to put your fighting skills to the test. Natasha had taught you some things during your initial training to become an Avenger before the world went to shit and half the population disappeared. 

“Yeah well I better get back-” You tried to push past him but he kept you trapped, cutting you off from speaking. You froze as his free hand wrapped around your waist, trying to pull you into him. You knew you should have fought back but you couldn’t. 

You told him to stop, pushing him away and threatening him but nothing seemed to deter him. That was until someone ran and tackled him to the floor, punching him with fast reflexes and super strength. You recognised that head of curls from anywhere. 

Peter got up after making sure the other guy wasn’t getting up anytime soon and quickly came over to you. A worried expression on his face as he reached out to held you before hesitating and withdrawing back. 

“A-are you okay?” 

You nodded and took a deep breath, noticing that some of the partygoers had now noticed what was going on. Sam and Bucky made sure the guy was thrown out and reported whilst insisting you go with Peter to get a drink and sit down. 

Peter made you a hot cocoa and sat down with you in a room on the other end of the compound, wrapping a blanket around you which you soon realised looked familiar. On the wall were Star Wars and Sci-Fi posters along with some selfies taken by Peter. This was his old room when he had first joined the Avengers. Tony kept it for him even when he declined his offer so that Peter would always have a place to stay if he needed it. 

You didn’t even notice you were crying until Peter handed you a tissue and rested a hand on your arm. You appreciated the gesture and wiped your eyes, not even caring if it smeared your makeup. You knew what Peter must have been thinking and honestly it was still what you were questioning yourself. 

“I couldn’t fight back.”

Peter looked at you and raised a brow but he didn’t say anything he just listened. You told him what had happened and how terrified you had been. You felt like you had let Tony down, he always told you to fight back and you couldn’t even do that when you needed to. 

“Hey. You didn’t let anyone down. It’s okay to be scared.” Peter tried to reassure you, taking your hand into his and squeezing. A technique he had learnt over time that made you feel safe and calm. 

You sighed and swallowed the lump that had formed in your throat. The moment you had been dreading since you had arrived had dawned on you without any warning. You were unprepared and scared again but you knew Peter, he would never hurt you. 

Silence filled the room, the only sound was the music from the party and the laughter from people who were having fun. You sighed and looked down at your hands, remembering that cold September night when everything finally caught up to you, the loss and the heartbreak,  and Peter had been the one to suffer. 

“I’m sorry.” 

The words that had been on your tongue for so long, threatening to spill every time you saw him or May and yet never being able to speak them into existence. It was only two words but the meaning held so much more. 

Peter didn’t reply for a moment and instead wrapped his arms around you, just holding you as you let yourself cry onto his shoulder. He rubbed your back and played with your hair, humming the song you and him shared a love for. You could smell his cologne and feel the softness of his shirt, noticing that he had a cut by his shoulder that he had evidently tried to heal himself. It was almost as if nothing had changed. 

“I’m sorry too.” 

His words caused you to look up at him in surprise, your heart once again racing as you met his gaze. His eyes were watering and he looked sad, more broken than you had ever seen him. 

“I shouldn’t have let go. I should have held onto you and helped you even when you pushed me away but I-I couldn’t do it. I was hurting too.” Peter’s words were full of pain and sorrow, your heart breaking as you heard them. You had spent so much time wrapped up in your own pain and pity that you hadn’t even seen Peter’s. 

You realised you didn’t have to go through it alone after all and that Peter was just as afraid of losing you as you were of losing him. 

Your lips met Peter’s before he could ramble anymore, the small bit of dutch courage you had that pushed you to make an impulsive decision. His lips tasted just as you remembered them, sweet and like home but with a tint of alcohol mixed onto them. 

Peter hummed in surprise, his eyes widening before kissing you back. Both of you settled into a familiar rhythm of lips moving against each other as the rest of the world faded away. You were reminded of the times you had spent sneaking in here as a teenager after Peter had come back from a mission and healing him with your touch. You had thought you had been smart but your Dad had always known even the things you didn’t want him to know, thanks to Peter being loud in the bedroom. 

“Y/n,” Peter pulled back and cupped your face in his hands, worry still evident on his face. “You just went through an ordeal, we don’t have to-” 

“Peter.” You smiled kindly at him, the first real smile you had felt in a while as you held him close and nuzzled your nose against his. “I want to because I love you and I wasted all this time trying to push you away when all I needed was to have you here, with me.” 

The smile that lit up Peter’s face was enough to make your heart race from pure joy as he held you close and kissed you one more time. In the background the sound of a countdown had begun, counting down the seconds till the new year would begin. 

“I love you too by the way.” Peter interrupted, his cheeks burning scarlet as you kissed over his face and neck. You giggled and shook your head at how dorky Peter could be. 

“I never stopped.” Your eyes met his again as he spoke and the sincerity in his gaze made you pause. You had never met anybody quite like Peter and you were sure you never would. 

“10, 9, 8, 7, 6!” 

“Neither did I.” 

Both of you smiled as you cuddled close, enjoying every moment that you had and determined not to waste another. You remembered fondly all the times that the Avengers team and your friends had tried to set you and Peter up, placing you together on missions and being the only two left when the study group or team briefing got cancelled. 

“5, 4, 3, 2, 1!” 

“Happy new year!” You chimed in with the rest of the party but only as a shared whisper between you and Peter. He returned the sentiment with a new years kiss just like the year before but this time there was more love and passion behind it, behind the closed doors of Peter’s old room. 

The polaroid picture that May had snapped of you both asleep in each other's arms that night soon took pride and place in Peter’s room. That was until you moved in together and had a whole canvas filled with photos of the both of you including your wedding photos.

Taglist (join here): @farfrombarnes @marvel-lock @parkerpeter24

Moots: @the-girl-in-the-chair @glowunderthemoon @spideyspeaches @seolaseoul

[outsideratheart]

1 Decorating the tree with laia aleixandri

A/N: Day one of the Christmas advent calendar.

Laia had been dropping not so subtle hints at wanting you to spend Christmas in Spain with her since you put the Halloween decorations away. At first she started to talk about the future and how your Christmas’ would look together and then when her parents visited Madrid they just so happened to bring some photo albums with them. You were excited because you loved seeing photos of baby Laia but when you saw the cover of the album, the one which was covered in red and green and had a huge Christmas tree on the front, you knew Laia had brought in reinforcements.

In the end you said yes, it wasn’t as if she had to persuade you that much. All you wanted her to do was ask you and not drop hints. You needed to hear her say the question so that you knew it really was what she wanted.

You wasn’t sure what the rules are in Spain. When do they put up their trees, when do they start decorating the house? This was the first Christmas you would be spending in Laia’s apartment which was now technically your apartment too.

You had stayed back at training with Lola to practice set pieces whilst your girlfriend left at a reasonable time along with the rest of the team. You opted out of showering at the facility in favour of wanting to get home as soon as possible.

Safe to say the last thing you expected to see was Laia on the living room floor surrounded by every type of Christmas decorations.

“Baby, what are you doing? It isn’t even December or do the Spanish decorate in November” you tease as you steal a kiss before getting a glass of water from the kitchen.

“I’m decorating”

You salute for her for being captain obvious.

“You asked and we have training, you have that Cupra event in Barcelona then we play Seville the weekend of the 1st. Now is the only time we can do it”

They were valid points and it wasn’t that you didn’t want to decorate, it’s just that you had planned to spend the night of the sofa cuddling with your girlfriend.

You walk away to get a shower.

“Hey! You can’t leave me to do it alone. This is our apartment now” Laia stands and chases after you.

“Calm down Mi Amor. I’m sweaty so I’m going to shower. Care to join me?” With your arms around her waist, you pull her close.

“Y/N I have too much organising to do” she kisses your nose before running back to her place in the living room.

You can only laugh as you leave her to do her organising.

When you emerge from the bedroom half an hour later you are shocked to see double the amount of decorations.

“I may have only lived here for just over 10 months but where on earth have you been hiding all of this?” You move some of the stuff to the floor so you can sit on the sofa.

“I’d tell you but it’s where I hide your birthday presents so…” Laia pretends to zip her lips.

She then proceeds to give you a to do list. With your eyes wide you count 11 tasks.

“Build tree. Decorate the top of tree that my amazing girlfriend can’t reach” you raise your eyebrows are her self compliment “hang Christmas lights”

“Vale. You have a long list but it’s only the things I can’t do” Laia tries to defend herself.

“And you want all of this done by….”

“Tonight. Don’t look at me like that, we have a game tomorrow”

“Well then we better get started. I take it ‘put the Christmas music on’ is on your list?” You ask and Laia nods enthusiastically.

With a mixture of both English and Spanish music playing in the background you and Laia both work through you lists, laughing and joking around as you do so.

The last thing you both do is decorate the tree as this is something that you can do together. Laia opens the box full of decorations. Some of the baubles are basic and traditional, others are from Laia childhood that her parents had given her.

It takes 45 minutes to get the tree just right. You and Laia dramatically collapse on the sofa as you admire your hard work. The apartment was perfect, it wasn’t over the top but it definetly had the Christmas spirit.

“It’s perfect” Laia tells you as she snuggles into your side.

“Wait” you rush to your feet and run to the bedroom.

Laia hears you rumbling around in your draws and mumbling to yourself.

“One more thing to add to the tree” you open the box and show Laia.

Inside the box was a ball shaped bauble with the inscription ‘our first Christmas” with the year below it.

Laia places it at the front and in the middle of the tree so everyone can see it.

In the weeks that followed, Laia showed everyone the bauble and told them that you planned on starting your own collection and that this one was the first of many.

[blueinkphantom]

c!Dreamza Week, Day 5 - Alternative Universe

small little drabble (maybe continued in the future) + AU Explanation

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

Music was flowing through the air as a few people danced in the middle of the room.

For as lovely as the scenary was, with it's festive decorations and grand interior, Dream still found it boring. Since he had been the only one with nothing keeping him away, he went along with Philza. Techno might join later but Kristen would be unable to at all. Punz meanwhile was not close enough with Phil, leaving Dream as the last option.

Normally the demigod of life could be found at one of the smaller towns, partaking in challenges that were tradition there for this holiday. Together with Techno and sometimes his other partners, he would spar and parkour. He doesn't regret coming here. It had it's positives and it solidified his opinion on events like these, but he'd still prefer something with more options for moving. A competition like he used to attent with Sapnap and George before he lost his title of mortal and became on of the people celebrated on the Day of the Lebenszyklus.

Movement out of the corner of his eye brought him out of his musings and attention shifted towards his love in a dark blue dress. With one hand held out to him and raven wings spread so they covered them slightly, Philza voiced. "Your restlessness and itch to move is noticeable to even the most oblivious. Care for a dance before your wings take you to flight, my sun?"

Dream huffed, laying one of his hands that previously played with the bright yellow and smooth fabric of his dress on top of Phil's. "I trust you to lead."

"I trust you to follow." The Angel of Death pulled him along till they reached the area where the other couples danced, entering the rythm smoothly and joining with barely any difficulty. It wasn't rare for them to dance every now and then. While Dream may not be the one most commonly involved in the movements, he isn't opposed to joining if offered. It sometimes reminds him of sparing. Easy to move along, imporant to know the steps.

Dancing with Phil, it was nice. Calming and without a doubt one of the best parts of this evening. And seeing Phil enjoy himself as well is worth missing the competition.

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

------some au info ------

Its a fun little AU with a relatively big polycule because why not

Most important characters right now are:

- c!Dream: Demigod of Life, Sun and Day; and an owl hybrid; in a relationship with c!Phil, c!Techno and c!Punz. (Used to be a mortal. Gained XD's interest after some stuff happened)

- c!Phil: Angel of Death, Moon and Night; raven hybrid; in a relationship with c!Dream, c!Techno and c!Kristen. (Used to be mortal, too. Picked by c!Kristen millenias ago)

other important characters:

- c!Technoblade: Deity of Limbo, Sunrise and Sunset; vulture hybrid; in a relationship with c!Dream, c!Phil

- c!Kristen: Lady of Death, in a relationship with c!Phil and XD

- c!Punz: Angel of Life; phoenix hybrid; in a relationship with XD and c!Dream. (Used to be mortal. Made an angel a bit before c!Dream.)

- XD: God of Life; in a relationship with c!Kristen, c!Punz and c!Foolish

[mikem-dawnm-japan]

Tuesday 14th May - Day 8

A late start today as we wait for those who stayed in the local inn last night to be returned to the group. After a day on the coach yesterday we were to spend today on our feet! A trail of 33 people following our one guide through the streets of Takayama. We are heading for the Miyagawa morning market where we are given time to roam and check out the stalls selling locally made wooden objects, local produce, food items etc. The group is so large that we are struggling to keep together with peoples different walking abilities and we have no guide at the back to ensure that those tail Enders don’t get lost! We continue on to the Takayama-Jinya, which served as government headquarters under the Tokugawa shogunate of 1692-1871. We had a guided tour through this warren of rooms seeing where the work of the court took place in later years. It was surrounded by tranquil gardens, as always with a number of water features.

The afternoon was free for us to explore. We took in the central streets which are still made up of the traditional wooden houses and shops. Rickshaws passed by and there were several Saki shops with Sugidama hanging outside! In the olden days these balls of soft green cedar were hung above the shop doorways when new Sake was arriving at the shop, by the time they turn brown the sake was ready to drink.

The Float Museum had been recommended so we followed the river, away from the centre of the town and found this fascinating museum with beautiful gardens. The Takayama Matsuri comprises of two festivals: one in the spring and another in the autumn, the festivals have been taking place for over 350 years. The Yatai (floats), many of which date from the 17th century, are decorated with complicated carvings. The parades take place after the floats have been removed from the Yatai-guru, thick walled storehouses with very tall doors which are located throughout the town.which are dotted around the city. The festivals take place at twilight , glowing lanterns highlight the parade as the floats are pulled across the bridges accompanied by music.

The gardens had a small pond with some large koi, which nearly became lunch for a large heron. However, the staff at the museum rushed over to frighten away the heron before he could enjoy his feast! The temperature had now risen to the high 20’s and we took a slow walk back along the river towards out hotel .. it’s been the hottest day and the most active so we rested up ahead of tonight’s dinner. I tried to get to the garden to sit & read my book but you can only look at the garden from inside! The culture differences are a challenge!

Tonight is Hida Beef night, 20 of us had been tempted to take part in this optional extra, where we were to cook our own meat and enjoy the evening experience. Sadly the experience was lacking, the meat was already cooking upon arrival and we were rushed through the experience which was billed to last 3 hours and barely lasted 1 hour! It was interesting and tasty though! Back at our hotel and not yet 7.30pm we looked to go to the bar with a few of our group. But, no bar open, nowhere to sit and chat .. we Brits are finding this lack of evening social time difficult to deal with as this is the 2nd hotel where everything closes in the evening!

So the evening consisted of packing and composing an email to Distant Travel regarding the guide and a couple of observations from our trip so far!

[legends-of-time]

The Strength of a High and Noble Hill (Outlander)

Chapter 36: Gifts and Awkward Conversations

Masterlist

The newlyweds go back up the aisle and the guests make their way to the lawn for the reception. Thankfully Jemmy, Germain and Joan were mostly well-behaved though Germain yelled out when they got to the rings.

Brian sees Ellen looking blankly at Henry Gallegher, a recent immigrant to the ridge, who has a Glaswegian accent that's so strong that everyone has a difficult time understanding him. Brian watches amusedly as the man speaks to his sister, flailing his arms around as he talks before, he soon takes pity and hurries over to them.

He gives Ellen a huge hug, Jem has already been handed over to his Grandmother, and says, "Congratulations, sis." He kisses her cheek and turns to face Roger. "Welcome to the family officially, Roger Mac."

"I couldn’t be prouder te be part o’ it." Roger tells him. He smiles and hugs his new brother-in-law as well.

"You'll be happy to know that my wedding gift is having Jem at the Big House so you both can have some privacy." Brian smirks.

"That's actually not bad compared to the 'gifts' some people are getting me." Ellen grumbles. Her husband lets out a little snigger.

"Can't be as bad that Grannie Bacon getting her granddaughters to present Mama with that overly large and garish mobcap to cover her hair." Brian remarks.

Ellen's nose wrinkles. "Did she seriously give Mama a massive cap?"

Brian laughs. "Yep, it was meant to be a thank you for treating her but also, she deems it 'unseemly and amoral' for a woman of Mama's age to not only have her head uncovered but to wear her hair loose about her shoulders."

"It's worse than tha' gift." Roger smirks.

Brian looks curiously at his sister, who sighs. "Mrs Buchanan," she gestures to an older lady who stands off in the distance, talking with a group of people that look like they could be related to her, "as a wedding gift gave me embroidery thread. Guess what that was for?"

"What?" Brian questions. What could be so bad about a bit of thread?

"To decorate my funeral clothes in the event I should die in childbirth."

Brian's eyebrows shoot up at that.

Oh.

Roger sniggers. Ellen sends him a glare, jabbing her husband in the side with her elbow.

——

They are having a ceilidh (a Scottish wedding tradition involving dancing and folk music), and everyone's making merry. Brian takes a break from the wedding/gathering to sit at a table, a sleeping Jem in his arms. He's taking a break from all the dancing he's been pulled into. Brian has just escaped from the MacEalair daughters, Eudora and Penuel, particularly with the help of a disproving Grannie MacEalair.

"May I join you?" Brian looks up and sees Lord John standing next to him.

Brian grins, very happy to see him. "Of course, please do." He gestures to the chair next to him and he sits down.

"You seemed to have your hands full." Lord John remarks, looking down at the sleeping baby.

Brian blushes. "I'm using him a barrier, plus I'm meant to be looking after him tonight."

"Yes, erm, you seem quite popular." Lord John says inelegantly.

"Well, you can say that's what comes when you're a young bachelor plus Da owns a great amount of land so..." Brian explains awkwardly. "I'm a dream to all those Mamas out there."

"Yes..."

It's quiet for a moment before Brian smirks and remarks, "I hope you're not to upset that you're only a guest at Ellen's wedding instead of the groom."

Lord John laughs. "I am masking the heartbreak as best I can." Brian smiles at the joke. "I am truly happy for the two of them. They are very well suited for one another."

"Absolutely. After all they've been through, they deserve their happy ending." Brian remarks. He hesitates before saying, "How about you, are you happy?"

"I am well." Lord John replies shortly.

Brian winces. Great, he's made it awkward again. "How is William, by the way? His schooling is good? He's enjoying London still?"

"Yes, and very much. He writes frequently." Lord John replies, happy to talk about his son. "Headstrong as ever."

"Sounds like him." Brian grins.

Lord John smiles back but Brian can't help but notice the tension in his face.

——

A/N: A quick side note: Brian doesn't know who William Ransom is, but he would've heard about him while Lord John was at River Run.

Please leave comments on how you're enjoying this story and what you think.

[eddie]

⛧˖ ‒‒‒‒‒ ALTHOUGH EDDIE WOULDN’T DENY THAT the extensive collection of hats and mugs that decorated their humble abode were indeed overwhelming in their presence, especially when their trailer was already limited in terms of the amount of space it had to offer, there was no shame that he felt in it. Each and every hat and mug were the keeper of a fond memory with his uncle; a Father’s Day, a Christmas, a birthday, an impromptu day-trip out of town. As strange and unruly as the tradition may have been, he wouldn’t have traded it for the world.

            Pulling his attention off of the hats, Eddie shifted his gaze back onto Boris, watching as he’d attempted to clean up his face with the cloth that he’d given him. He imagined that talking didn’t feel the greatest when his lip was busted like it was, but the way that the boy rambled would have made anyone think otherwise. He’d only just met him, and already he was getting the impression that he didn’t know how to shut up. Despite the fact that his thick accent could make for a bit of an occasional translation obstacle though, he couldn’t say that he didn’t enjoy his company already; the smile that was continually pulling at the corner of his lips was a testament to that. Boris was odd, and he liked odd.

            Just like the other, Eddie understood the sentiment of music and the power that it had to save someone’s life, both metaphorically and literally. He perhaps understood it even more than Boris did. He couldn’t count the number of times that his favorite bands and musicians had gotten him through a tough spot in his life, and he owed more to his beat-up cassette tapes than he could ever really measure. So many late nights had been spent with his headphones on, or with the radio in his old van blasting at full-volume, while he road the waves of his childhood and teenage turmoil. He genuinely wasn’t sure how he would have coped without it.

            When Boris had begun to hum in response to his question, Eddie took only a moment’s pause before he’d started stomping his foot and clapping his hands to the beat of the popular song. ❝ Buddy, you're a boy, make a big noise, playing in the street, gonna be a big man someday!—❞ He sang, a laugh leaving him after the first couple of lines. ❝ Yeah, no shit. ‘Course I know it, ❞ he teased. Queen wasn’t really his thing, but he didn’t live under a rock.

            ❝ Lemme show you the real good shit, my young Ukrainian Padawan. Judy was holding out on you. ❞ Eddie held up both of his index fingers then as he backed up, pivoting to put out his cigarette butt in an ash tray before he’d begun to shuffle through a bunch of cassettes that were strewn about the shelves of the television stand. His collection had begun to spill all over the trailer, although the bulk of it still remained in his room.

❝ Strange tradition, but it looks kind of cool. Who cares, eh? ❞ Boris shrugged, taking another drag from his cigarette and holding out his free hand for the things that Eddie had so kindly offered to him: a wet cloth and a bag of frozen peas to help slow the bleeding and reduce the swelling. That was definitely a first. Usually he just dealt with any wounds by himself and didn’t fuss over them much, but he appreciated the generosity of someone who was basically a stranger to him. After wiping the cloth over his mouth and chin to absorb the blood into the fabric, he began to grin at the question pertaining to music. He definitely wasn't familiarized with everything American and he was always learning and discovering new things, but he thought he'd come a long way from when he started.

❝ Some of the places I lived—miles in the middle of nowhere, nobody to talk to, dead boring—I would have maybe lost my mind if I didn’t have music, ❞ Boris began to explain, dropping down onto the nearest piece of furniture and pushing his dark, messy hair out of his face. Talking wasn’t going to make the healing process any faster and it didn't help that he had a habit of gesturing wildly with his hands a lot when he spoke, but he wasn't bothered by it. It was nice to have someone to talk to. If he ended up having fun conversing with Eddie, he would likely try to extend his time with him if he could manage it.

❝ Was up in Northern Territory, just a young boy—very shy and quiet—when I started learning English. Music, movies, books, everything in English and no school to go to! Even the lady who worked at the bar, Judy her name was, would always talk to me all the time when I didn’t understand a lick of what she was saying. She is the one who taught me most everything I know. Now I know music popular in America, like KISS and Queen! ❞ He exclaimed, continuing on to half hum and half sing part of the popular song we will rock you by Queen. ❝ You know the one, yes? ❞

[weelittleweasley]

masquerade (d.m.)

prompt as requested by anon: draco malfoy was your rival in slytherin house. both of you ambitious, bold, and daring. as one of the few pureblood slytherin families left, you promised yourself that you would continue your lineage, but not with scum like malfoy. instead, you would meet a suitor at the annual masquerade ball hosted by the malfoys each year. but what if your prospective suitor is someone you didn’t expect...

pairing: draco malfoy x fem! pureblood slytherin reader

warnings: language

word count: 8.7k

author’s note: let’s say this takes place around 7th year (no voldy) right after the reader’s 18th birthday. also--i took the liberty of naming the reader’s parents just for sake of making things less confusing. 

you guys...would you want a second part to this? i may have an idea for a sequel? depends on how you all like it, but this...kinda went hard ngl

here is a playlist that i found on spotify that works well with the fic! credits to owner! 

Rivalry; nothing like it. It gave you a reason to work harder, faster, and stronger than your rival. You were taught at a very young age that you should never surrender to someone who tries to make you feel inferior. And you took that to heart throughout your time at Hogwarts. You fought wisely with your charisma and charm, earning you the highest marks at school. You were a prefect, one of the top five students in your graduating class, and you were already making plans for your future. 

But that didn’t mean that there weren’t any challenges in your way. Many obstacles stood in your path of achieving greatness. One of those obstacles named Draco Malfoy. The two of you came from pureblood Slytherin families who had been fighting for power that dated back hundreds of years. That only meant that when you both entered Hogwarts in the same year, you had a rival to beat. But Draco wasn’t stupid. He knew how to keep up with you, sometimes surpassing you. Draco was also a prefect alongside you, one place higher than you in your class ranking, and not to mention, Professor Snape’s favorite student.

It drove you ballistic that no matter what you did, you couldn’t outsmart Malfoy. He was always one step ahead of you. He anticipated your every move as if he had studied you for years. But you had something on your side that Draco didn’t expect; divine feminine energy.

You would never fall for Malfoy, not in a million years. But that was exactly the point. Use what you have that Draco wants to your advantage. Your mother always told you that women had the energy of a thousand suns in their eyes and could burn anyone they wanted with just a stare. So that’s exactly what you did throughout Hogwarts. Burn Malfoy.

With just a look in the halls, you would set the boy on fire. With rage, with envy, with frustration, and with passion. You wanted no more but to see the boy fail. But failure wasn’t in Draco’s vocabulary. Needless to say, your time at Hogwarts became full of push and pull between the both of you. A rivalry of the ages.

It was exhausting, being tasked with rivalry at school, but you were thankful when winter break rolled around. You sat in your family’s manor house, the roaring fireplace in front of you as you read an alluring book. The crackling fire warmed up your chilly toes as a green velvet blanket rested over your shoulders. During break, you didn’t have to worry about Malfoy or his every move. You could enjoy yourself. 

As you read, you can hear the footsteps of someone descending the stairs. “(Y/N), dear,” your mother’s voice calls out. 

“In the drawing room, Mother!” you call back.

Soon enough, there your mother was, looking regal as ever as you smiled. Your mother was truly a force to be reckoned with. She stood in front of you, in a beautiful black gown, trimmed with gold and silver, your family crest embroidered above her left breast. Her hair was styled away from her face to reveal her youthful looking face. She was stunning to say the least. “I have news, darling,” she smiles, approaching you before taking a spot on the loveseat that you rested on.

You close your book and smile as you mother sits behind you, combing through your hair, something you always found relaxing. “I hope it’s good news, I could use some,” you tease her, earning a small giggle.

As she combs through your hair with her fingers, she speaks, “As you know, the annual masquerade ball occurs around this time of year.” You remembered watching your parents get ready for the ball as a child. You would sit next to your mother’s vanity and watch her delicately make up her face as her ladies’ maid did her hair. Your mother always wore a beautiful gown from the finest silk, adorned with jewels or lace or whatever she fancied. You remember your father told your mother she could get whatever she liked; your father wanted nothing but your mother to be satisfied. “The ball is open to any pureblood Slytherin who has reached the age of eighteen. And since you’ve have your eighteenth birthday not too long ago, you are eligible to attend,” you can hear the excitement in your mother’s voice. It had always been her dream to see you attend the ball. And yours to attend it.

You smile widely, “I’m delighted. We’ll need to contact the seamstress now if I want a dress in time.”

Chuckling, your mother places her hands on your shoulder. “Yes, yes, dear. But before we talk about what you are wearing, we must discuss the details,” she informs as you sigh. You just wanted to get to the fun part. “The masquerade ball is not just a party, but a tradition. The ball was made for young pureblood Slytherins to meet each other blindly and find a prospective partner for marriage,” you mother reveals as your heart stops.

A partner for marriage? You had just turned eighteen and now you had to think about a partner? You hadn’t even graduated from Hogwarts yet.

But before you can protest the thought of courtship, your mother adds, “It’s how your father and I met in fact. We had danced the whole night and at the end of the ball, he took off my mask and we realized that we knew each other already. He was my partner in my potion’s class at Hogwarts.” She smiles at the memory. “Now, I’m not saying you need to find a fiancé, but it would be nice to be open to it. It’s tradition.”

The thought of finding a fiancé at the ball made your mind reel and your heart race. Sure, the tradition was old, but there was something romantic about it. Especially since that’s how your parents found each other. You nod your head, “Of course, Mother.”

Your mother presses a kiss to the top of your head. She opens her mouth to speak, but instead you hear another voice. “There are some fine suitors attending the ball this year,” your father speaks. He walked into the room a teasing smile on his face as you roll your eyes. “Let’s not overwhelm our daughter with the prospect that she might find her future partner, shall we, Porpentina?” your father tells your mother.

She simply sighs, “Let’s not rule it out though, Samuel. Anything can happen.”

Your father walks over to the two of you, a handsome smile on his face as he shakes his head. Your father was the smartest man you’ve ever met. He always led with logic and had a rational brain. But when it came to you, your father was putty. He loved spoiling his only child, his daughter. “Anyway, I’m glad that you’ve decided to come to ball, my dear,” your father beams as your mother squeezes your shoulders. “I’ll let Lucius and Narcissa know,” he looks to your mother with a nod.

“Wait, Lucius and Narcissa?” you freeze. Malfoy’s. “Are they coming to the ball as well? Will Draco be in attendance?” you interrogate.

Your father chuckles, “Well, I would hope so since they host the ball every year, dearest.” You scoff and let your mouth fall open. Since when was your family alright with the Malfoy's? Last time you were aware, your families despised one another. “I know, it’s strange, but over the last few years, our families have been able to be more level headed with each other. Lucius is still a fucking prick, but he’s been more tame,” your father huffs, making you laugh a bit. “But yes, Draco will be at the ball.”

You immediately rise from your seat on the hardwood floor. “Then I’m not going,” you state as your mother stares at you confused. “You know how much I hate that pretentious, loathsome boy since I stepped foot in Hogwarts. He’s rude and spiteful and inconsiderate and vile. I refuse to voluntarily be in the same room as him whilst I am supposed to be enjoying winter break. I simply refuse.”

Springing to her feet, your mother tries to reason with you. “Think about it, darling. It’s a masquerade ball. You won’t even recognize Draco. He’ll be in costume as well as everyone else. You won’t even know who is who. It’ll be a night to remember, I promise you,” your mother speaks, rubbing your arms. “Besides, I already called the seamstress and she has a beautiful design that she has custom made for you,” she wiggles her brows.

The thought of attending the ball still did excite you. Live orchestral music, beautiful gowns, champagne in golden flutes. It all sounded so regal. How could you let Draco Malfoy stand in the way of your fun? Besides, the chances of you stumbling upon Draco were slim. Sighing, you surrender, “Alright, fine. But if I so much as smell Draco Malfoy, you won’t hear the end of it.”

---------

Meanwhile, Draco stood beside his mother as servants and maids and butlers ran through the Malfoy Manor, carrying fine china, silverware, champagne flutes, and the finest decorations from around the world to decorate the manor in time for the ball. To the common person, this would all be so fantastic to watch. People decorating the manor in golds and greens, preparing for the quickly approaching festivities. But to Draco, this was normal. All the glamor and the splendor was just another day. 

Narcissa holds her son’s arm, linked with hers as she sighs, “Your first masquerade ball. You’ve grown up so quickly, my darling.” Narcissa smiles at her son inspecting his grown face. Where did her child go? All she saw was a fine man. 

Draco smiles kindly at his gentle mother. “I’m not being shipped away, Mother. It’s just a ball,” he laughs, giving her hand a squeeze. “Besides, I don’t expect to find a potential wife at the ball like Father believes...” he trails off.

The thought of marriage made Draco’s stomach churn. It wasn’t like he had a choice. Lucius Malfoy expected Draco to find a wife and a wife soon. Even though the boy hadn’t graduated, Lucius wanted to know that the Malfoy name would continue on for generations to come. He needed to ensure that his boyish son found another pureblood and produced an heir to the Malfoy name. 

Narcissa looks sadly at her son. She wanted nothing but the best for him, but also wanted the same as her husband. “Draco, dear, you know how important this ball is to your father and I. There are some perfectly sweet, beautiful girls in attendance to the ball tomorrow. What about Pansy Parkinson? Pureblood, Slytherin, comes from wealth,” Narcissa starts.

“What about her obnoxious personality or obsessive nature? Parkinson is a hard no,” Draco dismisses the notion. “Who else?”

Narcissa thinks, “The Greengrasses! Daphne will be in attendance since she just turned eighteen. Her younger sister still has a few more years before she can attend.”

Draco shakes his head, “Daphne is a good friend. It would be awkward.” Narcissa sighs and laughs lightly. “Anyone else or am I stuck with Pansy?”

Mrs. Malfoy stays quiet for a while before bringing up the next name, knowing how touchy it is for her son. “Well, I received news yesterday of another pureblood Slytherin who just turned eighteen recently who will be in attendance...” she trails off as Draco looks at his mother, intrigued and curious. “Miss (Y/L/N) will be coming...”

Draco’s face then contorts with disgust. “You invited my biggest rival to the ball?” he exclaims. “Mother, you know how I feel about her! Merlin, at this point let’s invite Potter and his friends to really spice things up shall we?” he scoffs sarcastically.

Narcissa starts, “Draco, please. I know how you feel about (Y/N), but she is a pureblood Slytherin. Her family has money and power and a title. Maybe if something happened between you tw-”

“Nothing will happen between (Y/N) and I, Mother. So don’t get your hopes up,” Draco cuts his mother off who sadly sighs. Draco monitors her sad expression before he feels guilty for his outburst. “I just cannot see myself getting past my feelings for her as they are now,” he reasons with his mother, squeezing her hand as she sadly smiles. “But I did hear that you invited some Beauxbatons to the ball,” he wiggles his eyebrows as Narcissa rolls her eyes.

-----------

Standing in your room in front of the mirror, your ladies’ maid tightened your corset as you sucked in a breath. “Too tight?” she asks, scared that she hurt her master’s child.

“No, Lottie, just fine,” you smile at her as she ties the strings to the corset before taking your gown off of its hanger. “Lottie, can I ask you a question?” you ask as she helps you step into the gown. 

Lottie smiles, “Of course, my lady. What would you like to know?”

As Lottie shimmies the dress up your body, you speak, “When you met your husband, when did you know he was the right one for you? Was there a moment? Or something he said? Or was it love at first sight?”

You hold the dress up as Lottie makes her way to the back to zip it up. “It’s more of a feeling you get in your stomach, my lady. I knew my husband was the one because I felt like my stomach was doing flips and my head was reeling. There’s no feeling quite like it,” she tells you as you smile. Love was so complicated to you. You didn’t understand how it was supposed to work. You loved knowing that there were answers to almost every problem, but when it came to love, you were clueless of its answer. “Take a look, my lady.”

Looking into the mirror, you softly smile. The strapless gown was of emerald silk, hugging your chest beautiful as it came in at the waist as it cascaded down your long legs. It wasn’t puffy or poofy or full of tule. It was sleek and sexy and mature. Your hair was straightened, but pieces fell loosely in your face, framing it. Gold eyeshadow was swept across your eyelids and your lips wore a peachy pink gloss. It was perfect. “I love it,” you smile.

“You look simply stunning,” Lottie added. “Anyone would be lucky to have you as their wife, my lady.”

You smile at Lottie, “Thank you, Lottie. Could you call my mother in please?” She curtsies before leaving you in your room. Nervously, you pace the floor, anxious for tonight’s events. Were you really expected to find a suitor? Who was  coming to the ball? Maybe someone from a different country? A bright, handsome wizard might sweep you off your feet and take you away. The thought made your heart race. 

Interrupting your thoughts, you hear a knock on the door before your mother enters. “Darling,” she sighs as you laugh. “There are no words to describe the way you look.”

You beam, “Thank you, Mother. I feel good, but I’m nervous.” She walks closer to you, concern on her face. “What if there is no one there for me? Even worse, what if there is someone there for me and I miss them?”

She shakes her head, “You cannot think of those things. (Y/N), I raised to be confident, powerful, and smart. And that’s exactly what you are plus more. Anyone with a brain and eyes will see how brilliant you are. No need to fret.” You exhale as she smiles at you. “I came in here to give you one last thing before we go,” she says as she reveals a gorgeous gold mask, adorned with pearls, diamonds, and emeralds. “It was mine when I went to my first masquerade ball. The same mask I wore when I met your father when I was eighteen. I thought that it might bring you some luck,” she tells you.

Tears start to well up in your eyes before you hug your mother tightly. “Thank you,” you whisper as she holds onto you tightly. “Thank you so much, Mom.”

Your mother gives you a squeeze. “I’m your mother. It’s what I do,” she says. “Now let’s put this on you and get ready to go. The ball waits for no one.”

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

The ball was already bustling and it had just begun a mere twenty minutes ago. Women and ladies wore beautiful gowns varying of colors and textures, adorned with jewels and precious stones. Men wore suits and capes, perfectly tailored, all very clean cut. But everyone wore a mask to conceal their identity. Each mask beautiful and intricate in design. Some masks covered their whole faces and parts of their head, other just the eyes, and some wore masks that covered their whole head. Everyone was anonymous and that just made your excited anxiety increase.

As you stepped into the Malfoy Manor, you took in your surroundings. Their home was lovely. Beautifully decorated in golds and silvers, accents of black and green. Huge diamond chandeliers came down from the ceilings and twinkled as light passed through it. A large orchestra was settled in the ballroom, playing the finest music your ears have ever heard. You swooned. This all felt like a dream. A very real dream.

At the foyer, you were greeted by a butler who took your coat and another who offered you a flute of golden champagne as you graciously accepted it with a smile and a soft thank you. Your heart fluttered as you examined the manor through your mask. 

“May I escort the two loveliest ladies into the ballroom?” your father speaks as he offers his arms to you and your mother. You smile widely at him before you made your way to the ballroom where the rest of the party was.

The ballroom was enchanting. The walls were golden adorned with the most gorgeous architecture you have ever seen. Painted ceilings of pastel colors with tall candelabras that illuminated them. The orchestra played passionately as couples ranged from ages eighteen to fifty danced across the floor, women’s dresses swaying with each elegant movement. 

Your eyes searched the dance floor, trying to see if you recognized someone’s body language or movements. But everyone looked unfamiliar to you. Almost as if there was a fog over your eyes. 

That’s when your question was answered. “There is a spell cast over the ballroom,” your mother speaks. “To ensure that no one recognizes each other until all masks are removed. When the clock strikes midnight, all masks are removed and everyone sees each other for who they truly are. Exciting, isn’t it?” your mother whispers as you smile.

It was truly a one of a kind experience. You stood and watched those who danced around you, quietly sipping on champagne. Your eyes drifted off to the sidelines as you looked at the people who were your age. Everyone looked beautiful. One girl wore a dress of ruby red and a large diamond necklace that hung gently from her neck as she made quiet chatter with what you assumed was her parents. Another boy wore a velvet suit of navy blue with shiny dress shoes. He quietly stood by himself, watching each and every lady in the room, watching out for who caught his attention. 

Every one of the age of eighteen was on a mission it seemed. These people wanted to find their partner for the night and potentially for their life. The stakes were high. It made your heart race and your adrenaline pump. Your competitive nature was coming over you; you couldn’t help it. You were determined to find someone tonight if it was the last thing you did. 

Suddenly, the music faded away and the sound of a clinking glass filled the room. “Good evening, esteemed guests,” a feminine voice called out. “Welcome to the annual masquerade ball!” she exclaims, earning claps from every corner of the ballroom. “As you all know, the ball is designed for young witches and wizards to find a partner. We welcome each of you with excitement for the journey that lies ahead of you. That being said, the time as come for the eligible witches and wizards to come onto the dance floor and mingle. Wizards, you may approach any witch who is eligible and ask to have a place on her dance card. Remember, do not tell each other of your names! The dances will begin in ten minutes, so get to talking!” Another cling resounds in the ballroom as eligible bachelorettes and bachelors flood the dance floor.

You turn to your parents and give them nervous eyes as your mother and father give you a warm smile. “You’ll be brilliant,” your father speaks as your mother grabs your champagne glass and hands you your dance card. 

With a deep breath, you shake your head and walk out to the dance floor. Your heart was thudding hard against your chest. The moment you stepped onto the floor, someone approached you. “Good evening,” the boy bows as you curtsy to him. “Might I say you look gorgeous this evening,” he compliments you.

You smile, “Thank you very much. You look very nice as well.” He wore a simple black suit and a green pocket square. The detail made you think he was definitely in Slytherin house. Was he in your year? Did you know him personally? Was it Malfoy? No, Malfoy wouldn’t be this kind to you. But then again, he didn’t know it was you. 

The boy speaks, “Could I have the pleasure of having a space on your dance card?” 

He seemed friendly and kind, there was no reason to say no. Maybe as you danced he would become more interesting. “I would be delighted,” you respond as you hand him your card. He strikes the card with two x’s before returning it to you.

“Thank you, my lady,” he bows before walking away quickly to the very next girl he laid eyes on. You were startled at how quickly you moved, but quickly realized he had prepared some sort of script to dance with as many women as possible before his time was up. Clever.

You continue to make your way around the ballroom, chatting to a few more suitors here and there. Some men you found more charming and clever than other, while others you found yourself bored of, politely dismissing their request for a place on your dance card. 

Glancing at the dance card tied around your wrist, you think to yourself about the gentlemen who asked for a space and you granted them the honor of a dance. The first space to the boy who wanted to ask every lady to a dance, the next to a tall, dark, and handsome gentleman with the deep voice, the next to a funny gentleman with a thick Scottish accent, and the last space empty. There was only two minutes left of the mingling before you were to dance with your suitors. 

Too distracted by your dance card, you bump into someone else’s body, making you stumble a bit. “Oh my days, I’m so sorry,” you apologize to the body in front of you.

You look up and meet a pair of ice blue eyes that seem to stare into your soul. Your heart stops in its chest as you suck in a breath. In that moment, it felt like the whole ballroom had stopped moving and it was just you two in time. The two of you said nothing and just looked at each other, deep into the other’s eyes. It was if the man in front of you’s eyes held all the secrets to the world. 

Clearing his throat, he speaks in a low tone, “No, I apologize. I wasn’t looking where I was going.” You politely smile at him. “But in a way, I’m thankful that I wasn’t or else I wouldn’t have stumbled upon you,” he casually flirts making you blush.

The gentleman bows before you as you curtsy, maintaining eye contact with him the whole time. It was like there was some sort of magnet between the two of you. Was this what it was supposed to feel like? You remember Lottie saying it should feel like there were butterflies flying around and your head should be fuzzy, but none of those sensations were happening. You just felt hot in your face and your palms were sweating, thank goodness for your long gloves. 

“I’m glad neither of us were paying attention,” you confess as he smirks. “You are much more interesting than what I was previously focused on.”

The mysterious suitor in front of you chuckles. “I can only hope that you have a spot for me saved on your dance card,” he speaks as you blush.

Teasingly you look at your dance card and fake gasp, “Well, would you look at that? One last spot saved for a special someone...” The gentleman chuckles again as he ticks off the last spot on your dance card.

He slips the card back around your wrist as you suck in a breath as he fingers touch you. “I look forward to our dance,” he bows as you reciprocate the gesture. “Until then, my lady.”

His eyes don’t leave yours until the very last moment as he walks away. You could swoon. He was charming, smooth, witty, and even though much of his face was concealed by his mask, you knew he was handsome. He just had to be. Your face felt hot and your mouth was dry. You knew that you would anxiously await him as your last dance.

With another few clinks against the glass, you are informed that it is time to start the dancing. But before people gather with their first partners, people run back over to where their parents were quietly observing. You excitedly scurry to your mother and father and small smile on your lips dancing as you approach them. Your mother smiles, “Anyone interesting?”

You don’t say a word and take a sip of the champagne that your father offered you. “I know that smile,” he beams. “Which one, darling?” You don’t speak. “Oh, tell us, dearest. We don’t know who any of them are, we are just as clueless as you.”

Sighing, you surrender. “The last gentleman. The one I bumped into.” Your mother scans the room, looking for him. “He has my interest the most out of all of them by far. If the dance goes well, I recon he’ll ask me to promenade outside,” you giggle as your mother joins you.

Your father speaks, “With a chaperone, I assume.” 

You roll your eyes as your mother slaps him on the arm. “She’s eighteen, Samuel. She can walk outside with a suitor. Besides, there is security all around the manor. She will be safe.” Your father sighs as your mother looks at you and hands you your lipgloss to reapply. “Go on. Have fun. Play the field, dearest. Remember what I taught you.”

“Yes, Mother,” you beam before heading back to the dance floor.

There, the first boy is waiting for you, his arm extended. You walk arm in arm to the dance floor as the orchestra begins to play a ballroom waltz. His arm is around your waist gently, his one hand holding onto yours as you begin to dance. “Is this your first masquerade ball?” he asks you.

You nod, “Yessir.”

He smiles, “So you’ve just turned eighteen I presume.” You nod again. “This is my fourth ball. I’m hoping to find my one and only here tonight. Do you think you have met yours?” he asks.

You are taken aback by his directness. “Um,” you stutter, “I’m not quite sure. I mean we’ve just met each other.”

He retorts, “Yes, but sometimes you just know, don’t you. You know what I mean?” His eyes are fixated on yours in a fashion that is full of anxiety and nerves as he anticipates your answer. His eyes have a tired look in them, but behind their exhaustion, there is hope.

You gulp, “Nope.” He furrows his brows. “But maybe another lady here understands what you are saying,” you remain hopeful for him as he sighs.

“I am hopeful,” he speaks. “That’s all we can be.”

Before you know it he spins you away and you land in the arms of your second suitor. The tall, dark, and handsome one. You smile as he smirks down at you. “Good evening, my lady,” he speaks in a deep tone that makes you feel like a school girl. “You are ravishing.” You kindly thank him. “So, are you here like everyone else? To find a partner?”

You speak, “I guess so. My parents would like me to be open to the idea of finding a suitor, but I’m still young. I would like to enjoy my time as a single, free woman of my age and status.”

He nods his head. “I see, I see. My parents want me to find a wife here tonight. Me on the other hand? I really don’t want anything serious. I’m just trying to find someone to shag to be quite honest with you. I’m too young to be tied down quite yet,” he reveals as your eyes widen. His eyes on the other hand remain fixated on yours, but aren’t afraid to wander to look around at the other women on the dance floor. You watch his eyes as they occasionally find another woman’s and he drops one of them into a wink. He was a flirt, couldn’t be tied down type. Bedroom eyes that wandered through several bedrooms type eyes. You’ve dealt with those eyes before and were not looking to deal with them again.

You agreed with him on the part of being free and not finding anything too serious, but just a person to have sex with? That wasn’t what you were looking for either. “I see,” you tell him as he winks through his mask. “I’m not quite sure I want something that casual. I am looking for something more consistent, a little more serious than just a shag. More emotional intimacy as well.”

“Fair enough,” he shrugs. “It’s a shame. I found you quite attractive,” he sighs.

But before you can protest, he spins you away from him and into the arms of your next caller, the funny Scot. “Hello there,” he greets you as you meet his gaze. He wears a gentle smile with kind eyes. His eyes are soft and full of childlike wonder. It makes your heart swell to see someone with such eyes. 

You softly smile at him, “Hello again.” 

The two of you dance back and forth, making light chatter here and there, him sliding in a joke when he can, earning a few giggles from you as he smiles. “How has your night been so far?” he asks you. “Has anyone caught your eye yet?”

You sigh, “The night has been tame so far, but no complaints.” He nods. “As for someone catching my eye, I cannot lie,” you smile as his interest peaks. “There was someone I met who I have my last dance with.”

The Scotsman chuckles, “That’s all you can ask for, isn’t it?”

You join in his light laugher. “What about you? Have you met someone yet?” you ask him as you continue to waltz across the ballroom.

You can see a light rosy hue appear on his cheeks as he smiles. “I have indeed,” he looks across the ballroom as you follow his line of sight. And there she was, dancing with the man you were dancing with before. The same girl from earlier with the gorgeous ruby red gown. “She’s wonderful. And I’ve only spoken to her twice and no more than a total of six minutes.”

Giving his forearm a soft squeeze, you repeat his phrase, “That’s all you can ask for, isn’t it?” He smiles. Maybe you didn’t need a suitor out of the Scot, maybe he was a good friend. 

“In that case, we both don’t mind what I’m about to do,” he speaks.

And then he spun you around and off to your last dance. 

And that’s when your eyes meet.

You inhale sharply when his hand finds the small of your back and he takes your hand in his. His eyes were still that beautiful ice blue that stared right into your soul and made you want to tell him all of your deepest darkest secrets. Eyes that could tempt you into making the most dangerous decision. Eyes that could lure you into a trap, but a trap that you wouldn’t mind being stuck in. 

He breaks the silence first. “We meet again,” he smirks as you blush lightly. The two of you begin dancing as the orchestra swells with music, almost as if they waited to play the most enchanting music right now in this moment. The violins hum a hauntingly beautiful melody as the violas and cellos support the sound. The moment was more than you could ever ask for. “I must tell you, I loathe dancing,” he whispers, making you giggle. “But somehow,” he starts. “You make it feel alright. Not good, but alright.”

You lightly laugh, “I’m glad I can make dancing tolerable for you.” The two of you continue to dance, letting your gown sweep across the floor as the music crescendos. “How has your night been so far? Enjoying yourself?” you ask, curious to know where his mind was at. It had only been minutes but you wanted to know everything about the gentleman in front of you.

The gentleman sighs, “It’s been fine. Not particularly a huge fan of balls or dances. But so far, so good.” He drops his left eye in a wink. “And yourself? How have your other dances been?” he asks you.

You bite your lip and take a moment to think. Now was not the time to play a mind game with him, though you so easily could. But you let your heart get ahead of your head and speak, “None of them as good as compared to this one.” The gentleman laughs, turning away from you in order for you to not catch his delighted blush on his white cheeks. “And your other dances? Did they make dancing more or less tolerable?” you joke with him.

Before the gentleman answers, he looks at the ground with a small smile. He looks up at you and gulps. “I actually didn’t ask anyone else to dance. Just you,” he reveals, making you breath hitch in your throat. That was quite the confession. “No other lady caught my eye like you did.” You don’t turn away when you blush at his flirtations. His eyes stare into yours as your mouth runs dry. “You have the most captivating eyes.”

It felt like you were in a storybook in this moment. The way the orchestra played, how he held you tightly against his body, the way his eyes stared into yours. Your eyes harnessing the power and energy of a thousand suns, but his ice blue eyes able to tame the heat they gave off. Why did this feel so right?

“I don’t know if I should say this,” you start, “but I’m going to anyway.”

He laughs, “I love a girl who can speak her mind. Go on.”

You breathe, “I feel like I’ve known you forever. Like this isn’t our first time meeting. I feel like I’ve known you since the dawn of time.”

You can see him gulp and blink a few times. Did your words scare him? Were you too upfront with him? But before you can think of any more questions, he speaks, “It’s like you can read my mind.” You chuckle as he smiles. “I feel like I was supposed to meet you here, tonight, in this moment. Like this dance was...fate. And I don’t believe in fate.”

For the rest of your dance, no more words are spoken. The two of you just sway and dance to the orchestra that swells with beautiful music. You both gaze into each others eyes and watch the expressions that come across each others faces. With the occasional laugh here and there, absolutely nothing is said. Slowly, everyone around you begins to fade and it is just you two in the ballroom. Why was this happening? You prayed that this was a sign. A sign that this was right, he was right. But you didn’t get the feeling that Lottie was describing to you earlier in your room. Your heart was on fire and you felt like you were about to burst, but no stomach churning or head reeling. Instead, you felt like you were burning. Burning for this man. Burning for his touch. Burning for his attention. You could only hope he felt the same.

Before you know it, the orchestra finishes playing and everyone slowly stops dancing. The ballroom applauds the orchestra and you both join in, but don’t leave each others gazes. Soon enough, people begin to leave the dance floor to partake in other conversations or dance with other people or even promenade outside.

You smile at your gentleman and say, “Thank you for the dance. It was...magical to say the least.” You curtsy to him and turn away to go, but wished you didn’t have to.

Without even taking a step away, you feel him grab your hand. “Wait,” he speaks. “I’m sorry,” he breathes. “Would you...would you like to go for a promenade with me? Outside on the grounds?”

Your heart skips a beat as you sigh and smile, causing him to smile back. He had his answer right there. “I would be more than delighted,” you confess. “One moment please,” you tell him before walking over to where your mother and father watched you in anxious anticipation.

“So?” your mother beams as you nod your head as she smiles. 

You had her your dance card and give your father a smile. “I’m going for a promenade outside with the last gentleman I danced with,” you beam as your father nods his head approvingly. “I will see you later,” you speak before walking back to your gentleman as he extends his arm to you. 

Your father holds onto your mother’s arm, “Porpentina, how our daughter has grown.” They watch you exit the french doors out of the ballroom and into the gardens of the Malfoy Manor.

Still arm in arm, your suitor speaks, “Now, I know we can’t reveal much of our identities to each other, but I would like to know more about you.” You smile at him, holding onto his arm tightly. “What’s your family like?”

Smiling as you think of your mother and father, you start, “They’re wonderful people. My mother has been my sun, moon, and stars since I could remember. She’s passionate and smart and powerful. She’s everything I want to be.” The gentleman smiles as you tell him of your mother. “My father is incredibly kind though many wouldn’t believe that because of what he does for a living,” you laugh. “But he’s my protector. He’s sacrificed so much for me and for my mother. He’s the best man I know.”

He squeezes your arm. “They sound lovely.” You squeeze his arm back to let him know that his sentiment is appreciated. “Any siblings?” You shake your head. “In that case, we are similar. I’m also an only child.”

“What about your parents? What are they like?” you question him next.

This earns a gulp and deep breath from him. “Well,” he starts. “My mother is kind-hearted. Braver than anyone I have ever met. She’s suffered a lot and continues to suffer just to protect me,” he confesses to you. “I’m sorry I know that’s a lot, but-”

“You don’t need to apologize,” you cut him off, placing a hand on his. “She sounds remarkable. Please, continue.”

He smiles. “She is remarkable. The best woman I know.” You smile warmly at him. Your cheeks hurt so much from smiling. The gentleman takes a deep breath in before starting, “My father on the other hand. He’s a complex man. We’re not particularly close. But similar to your father, he protects me to the best of his ability. I’m not sure whether it’s out of love for his son or for some other selfish reason...probably the latter...” he trails off. You look at his face as it falls lightly. You feel for him. “But that’s beside the matter. I want to know more about you. What are your passions? What are your ambitions in life? What do you want to do with our lives that can be so fucking meaningless?” 

You laugh at his joke, crinkling your nose as you do so as he watches you contort your face in delight. He thought you looked beautiful when you laughed. “Well,” you catch your breath. “I want to do something that my family never did. I want to pursue a career when I can help people. Other people. And I have no benefit from it. I just want to help others in any way. When I was a child, I used to want to be a Healer. Then when I was a little older I wanted to be an Auror. But now I’m thinking about being a Healer again or maybe do some form of charity work and philanthropy? I don’t know. I have dreams, but I don’t know which ones to pursue.”

You look at the man beside you and he’s smiling from ear to ear. “It all sounds wonderful to me. You seems so selfless. I’m not used to it, I guess,” he confesses. “But whatever you chose, I know you’ll be brilliant.”

The two of you continue to chat and walk through the gardens, discussing future plans, hopes and dreams, and whatever comes to mind. Talking to this man felt like breathing. It was so easy. Conversation flowed like a channel of water. The conversation seemed never ending and you were perfectly fine with that. You had completely forgotten that you didn’t even know what this man’s name was, but to be honest, you didn’t care. You already knew so much about him from your conversations, you didn’t need to know something as silly as a name. 

You walk further and further through the garden until you come across a small area that was covered in rose bushes. It was a strange sight to see, beautiful roses in full bloom in the middle of winter, but with magic, anything was possible. As you walked closer, the masked gentleman plucked one from the bush and offered it to you as you graciously accepted. You continued to walk as he spoke, “There is a game called Rose, Bud, Thorn where you tell someone of the best part of your day, the worst part of your day, and something you are looking forward to. I want to hear yours.”

You nod, “Alright then. My thorn is having to wear this bloody fucking corset top all night,” he laughs at your comment. “My bud is taking said bloody corset off when I get home,” the two of you chuckle. “And my rose...I guess was meeting you,” you bump into his arm playfully. He smiles. “Your turn.”

He sighs, “Let’s see...my thorn is having to dance tonight.” You scoff. “Although, you did make it better...” he teases as you roll your eyes teasingly. “My rose is having the most beautiful, kind, and intelligent woman at this ball with me right now,” he breathes as you blush. “And my bud...” he turns to you as you take a gulp. His soothing icy blue eyes staring into yours made you shiver. “My bud will be taking off this bloody mask of yours and seeing your beautiful face.”

His face is so close to yours, you feel his breath against your lips. Your mouth his dry as you feel him moving closer and closer to your lips. His eyes look at your glossed lips before moving back to your eyes and inching closer and closer to you. Your heart was thumping out of your chest. This was all happening so fast, and yet you were alright with it?

But before he can kiss you, a guard interrupts. “All ball attendees must report inside as per the hosts’ request. It is almost midnight and time for the unmasking!” 

The gentleman in front of you sighs as he turns to the guard and gives him a dirty look. “So much for a romantic moment,” he huffs as you chuckle. He takes your hand in his as you both walk back to the inside of the Manor, retracing your steps. You are only a few paces away from inside when he speaks, “Those guards always know how to ruin a bloody moment of mine.”

You furrow your brows and chuckle, “What do you mean?”

“They always seem to catch me at the worst time to tell me something important,” he speaks as you remain confused. He notices your confusion and laughs. “This will all make sense in a moment.” You contort your face in confusion, but before you can ask any further questions the same woman who spoke at the beginning of the ball spoke again. “Welcome back! I hope you all had a lovely night full of mystery and romance,” she giggles. “But now the mystery is over.” Behind her, the clock strikes midnight and bongs. “The spell over the ballroom has been lifted and you may all remove your masks! Please reveal yourselves to each other!”

Slowly, people reveal their true identities and you start recognizing people from Hogwarts. The girl with the ruby red dress that the Scot took a liking too was Pansy Parkinson. So many other familiar faces are revealed as you chuckled. This really was a magical moment. 

Beside you, your mysterious man sighs. “Finally.” Your heart beats quickly as you turn to him, anticipating who the man behind the mask was. You hoped he was handsome like you had imagined him to be. Was it someone you knew? Maybe an old classmate? Maybe someone from Hogwarts? Who could it be?

Reaching behind his head, he pulls on the silk strings that hold his mask up. Gently he peels it off and runs his fingers through his styled hair. And that’s when your heart stops and drops into your stomach.

The platinum blonde hair, the icy cold, unforgiving eyes, the pink lips that curled into that smirk. It was all too familiar. All too familiar that it made your chest feel tight with venom and anger. How could you be so naive? How did you not remember those eyes? Those eyes that dug into yours. Those lips that spat such cruel and vile words at you when you were just children. 

It was Draco Malfoy.

You inhale a sharp jagged breath as he laughs. “I know, it’s strange, but I’m assuming things are starting to click for you. Especially with how I know the guards and why they let us into the rose garden. But it’s me. I’m Draco. Draco Malfoy,” he speaks with a smile. You feel like you are about to vomit.

Of course, how could you not notice the guards letting you both through the gardens without interruption or protest? How did you not notice his wave of a finger when you needed to be let through somewhere? How did you let him distract you? How did you let yourself become so captivated by the man you hated most in the world?

“I think it’s only fair if I see you now,” he chuckles, waiting for you to take off your mask. 

But instead of taking off your mask, you wanted to run. Run far away. Run so far and forget this whole night happened. Forget every word exchanged with Draco full of such adoration. This was a sick joke.

Draco notices your horror and he speaks, “Are you alright, darling?”

His nickname for you made your stomach churn. You felt ill.

You couldn’t look at him any longer. You turned away and began to swiftly walk away from him. “Wait, where are you going?” he asks as you weave through the crowd. “Please, don’t go!”

Your stomach was churning and your head was reeling. How could this have happened. Then it all clicks. Lottie’s words. My stomach felt like it was doing flips and my head was reeling. There was no way. This wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be. You were in love with Draco fucking Malfoy. This was a nightmare.

That’s when his hand grabs your arm and flips you to look at him. “Where are you going?” he laughs as he looks at you. “Are you that surprised?” he asks with a smile as you just stand there, trying to catch your breath. His brows furrow. “Is there something wrong? Do we know each other?” he asks. “Take off your mask so I can see you, darling.”

In pure anger and frustration, you hastily sigh and undo the masks strings quickly before ripping it off your face to reveal your identity. The smile on Draco’s face instantly drops as he recognizes exactly who you are.

And there you were, two enemies standing in front of each other, glaring at each other in the middle of a ballroom, surrounded by other young couples who were falling in love. The two of you just burning holes into the other. The energy of a thousand suns trying to melt the ice that stared right back at it. Two sworn enemies now destined to fall in love. What a conundrum this was.

“Call me darling again and I’ll hex you, Malfoy,” you breath through pants of sheer anger.

Your stomach was still doing flips and your head continued to reel. Your face was flushed. How could Draco Malfoy and your masked gentleman be the same person? It was impossible. Your gentleman was kind and charming and witty and smart and thoughtful. Draco Malfoy was vile and rude and unkind and selfish and self absorbed and loathsome. There was no way you could be in love with a version of someone who you swore you would hate until you took your last breath.

Draco’s face slowly moves into a cautious one. “(Y/N),” he starts. “I swear I didn’t know it was you. I was just as clueless as you. You have to believe that I didn’t do this on purpose.”

You laugh, “I don’t believe a thing that comes out of your mouth. I was stupid to believe that I could fall for a person as disgusting and despicable as you.”

And with that, you march away from Draco, ignoring his calls out for you as you approach your mother and father. Once they see you, their expressions change from excitement to concern. Before anyone of them can ask what was wrong, you demand, “We are going home. Right now. I want to go home. Please. Can we go home?”

You feel a lump in your throat and your eyes become hot with tears. Your mother grabs your hand as your father pulls out his wand to apparate you back home. The last thing you hear before you leave the ball was Draco’s voice calling out for you to come back.

Before you know it, you are back in the comfort of your own home, face stained with tears as you run up the stairs to your room. You ignore your mother and father’s call to tell them what happened. You slam your bedroom door shut and lock it before letting the sob rake through your body, shaking you from the inside out.

You were foolish to believe you could find someone at a stupid ball. Those fucking masks. Making you believe someone was something they weren’t. It was all a lie. Smoke and mirrors. And you fell for it. You fell for Draco and there was nothing that you could do to forget it. 

You fell for a facade and you would have to live with that forever. How you were supposed to face him at Hogwarts was beyond your control.

[luciadiosa]

Chapter 1 - Then i am the greatest fool

PotC - Jade Princess

Cutler Beckett x fem!reader

Your family's home was decorated and made up. Social events were maintained over and over again. Time here, there. And every time it was too much for you. Even if you value healthy conversation and were not averse to music and dance. So, it was tiring. Especially because you were in a marriageable age and your mother, or stepmother to be more precise, was eager to get you under the hood.

You love her. You hardly knew your own mother. When you were 7 years old, she died. She has always been ailing and so you grew up more under the wing of a governess than under hers.

You cannot deny that you missed her in all those years, before and after her death. It may have made you accept your stepmother too much. The motherly closeness that you have always lacked was given to you and you can also see how well it did your father. Despite all the love, none of you could forget your mother. Neither your father nor your two brothers. So, it became a tradition that you still celebrate her birthday extravagantly in the family.

“Y / N!” Is what you hear behind you when you have just grabbed a glass. You turn around and smile at your stepmother. “Do you already know Mister Wellfried?” The young man smiles uncertainly at you. Even to you it looked too green behind the ears. "Mister Wellfried." You greet him with a curtsey. "I have to look after Anthony, talk to you." The older woman exclaims and let’s go of the arm of the man she was pulling on him.

Silently you try to look for a break out of the uncomfortable silence between you. “I saw you keep your eye on Miss Brook. I allow you to go and speak to her instead of mine. I think that's in both of our interests, isn't it?” You honestly suggest and look at the flirtatious redhead.

"What?" Wellfried was overwhelmed with the reaction. It was unusual for a woman to give such advice with such confidence. So, it was she who needs a man. That's what they say.

"Go ahead. Before Miss Brook changes her mind.” He tightens his chest, nods and started off.

Just as you find your way to your father. With the glass in both hands, you stand a little to one side and listen to the conversation. "India?" It slips out and now your father turns to you too. "Y / N." You step closer as he reaches out his hand to you. "Gentlemen. That's Y / N, my oldest daughter.” Even if you nod every time, you introduce the men, take a close look at each of the individual faces.

“Would you like to contribute to the discussion?” Your father asks you, knowing that he will be happy to do so when you burst into it. It should either be a lesson not to do it or to give you adequate guidance. "Oh. Not really. My enthusiasm was probably too great. You can read so much about India thanks to the French and Portuguese. The Animals and nature. Resources. The tigers are said to be majestically beautiful and dangerous. It is certainly a good move to secure the trade routes and supremacy there.” You smile at everyone and give only a little. You should appear well-read, inquisitive, but not too brash. Most men didn't want that. A woman who could offer such a watchword.

"Shall we bring you one of these dangerously beautiful tigers when we return?" Came one of the men. Cutler Beckett, as she remembered. "I would prefer the tiger to stay in its homeland, Mister Beckett." You answer and hold his gaze. The rest of the words stay in your head.

“Where is your mother?” Asks your father next to you. “Sure, looking for a match for me to marry. Shouldn't Anthony marry first? "You respond." Anthony goes to sea. He was recruited into the Navy." You nod sympathetically.

“Why didn't I become a boy? I can't even begin to avoid this monotonous structure. No adventures on the high seas that await me. Stories of old sailors and the burning pleasure of alcohol in my throat.” You sigh. “Do you remember the day you took me on the ship? The feeling of the sun drying the drops of water on my face and leaving the sea salt behind. That was the best day of my life. "

Your father is smiling. "Mh." He also fondly remembers it. Even then he noticed that your spirit was made for sailing. "My child, port side." You look to the left. Your mother stood there and waves you over to her. “You should correct the hole in the torso. Before your chances of continuing your journey soon sink into the sea.” A smile crosses your face.

“I think I have to save my frigate before it collides with something.” “You mean, if we promise you to someone?” He asks. You look at him. "I would call that mutiny." You sigh. “In the end we all sail too windward and leeward.” And you're on your way to damage control.

"Your daughter is ..." Beckett begins and steps up next to your father. They both watch you go. “Weird?” “Interesting. Most women have no knowledge of sailing and the sea and yet throw them around with knowledgeable words. Like saying the sky is blue.” Your father looks at Beckett. “She's always been interested in things like that. I fear the presence of three men and without maternal guidance shaped them. "

Later in the evening you stand on the wooden floor of the terrace. Your gaze goes out into the night. If you looked closely, you could see the black outlines of the ships in the harbor.

"If you are planning to escape by ship from your mother's attempts at mediation, I would advise against taking the frigate." You turn to the voice. Beckett.

"Which ship do you advise me on then?"

"Do you prefer speed or should it be agile?" - "Both, if possible"

Beckett smiled. "You are not satisfied with one thing," he stated. You lift your shoulders. "Why not?"

“Let me guess marriage for diplomatic or business reasons, is it negative about you? You want, if then everything. Love.” He advises and comes up to you. You turn to the night again. “What is so wrong with wanting to marry for love?” “It would be sheer luck. But you are right, as a man it is probably easier to escape this torment. "

“Just like you when you travel to India and expand the East India Trading Company further.” You counter him and assume that he does not want to marry.

"Love is for fools." He looks at the stars. Soon he would be sailing to these. "Then I'm probably the greatest fool to hope for." Your gaze also goes to the clear starry sky.

For a few minutes you are silent next to each other and it was not an uncomfortable silence.

“When are you going to India?” You ask. “As soon as the ships are ready.” Your father had come to an agreement with Beckett. Both work for the crown, for the East India Trading Company. But your father had planned to be less on ships. He now provides these to a younger, eager seaman. Because of the business relationship, Beckett should be visiting now one time or another.

_________________________________________________

This Fanfic shouldn't as long as "Dragonfire". :) Well it is the plan. We will see.

Next Chapter -> Chapter 2

[ask-theoneandonly-quicksilver]

First Christmas

Hello all! since there is a few moving cogs behind the scenes and I, Toast, have a deadline next week I need to focus on TT^TT I have decided to release this tiiiiny ficlet I made to hopefully keep yall fed until I can answer questions again. I hope you all enjoy!

When lights and wreaths and little decorative balls started to be found everywhere Pietro knew exactly what season it was, but though the jolly news of the festivities was infectious, Pietro was left feeling a little...Melancholy. He loved to run through the towns and watch the lights twinkle, people come together and make merry but it felt a little empty without, well, experience, he was struggling to find a connection with the holiday like others were.

And certainly like Kurt was. The blue mutant had poofed into the kitchen in a Christmas jumper and hat, two arms and a tail full of shopping, singing Christmas songs in German and scaring Pietro half to death in his hunt for snacks while none was about. Kurt cared not for his friend's surprise as he placed down the bags and began unloading, while he carolled, placing down pre-made Christmas snacks, and lots and lots of ingredients which Pietro assumed was to make more. P wasn't complaining, food was food and he was hungry. He reached for a box of fancy mince pies only to have his hand slapped away with the flat side of a blue tail.

"Ow! Hey!"

"No, you will eat them wrong."

"Eat them wrong?! They're mini already made pies! I take them out of the packet and I put them in my mouth!"

"Amature."

Pietro stared with his mouth agape as his friend paid him little mind, still putting things away and taking out baking utensils as he came across them.

"A...armature?! How can one be an amateur at eating food? Or are you saying I'm a Christmas armature because I can...deck the halls and..uh...jingle bells like everybody else!" He crossed his arms stubbornly, knowing his words likely made no sense.

The other mutant stopped for a moment, turning to look at Pietro and standing up from a low cupboard with a mixing bowl in hand. Though he had no pupils Pietro could feel himself being studied and realization dawning in them. The speedster hated that feeling and Kurt knew it so just as soon as Kurt had reached his conclusion he was striding over and grabbing Pietro's arms, pulling him in front of the kitchen island.

He stood, stiff and confused as to what was happening. With a short teleport, an apron was grabbed, placed and tied on him which he instinctively moved his arms to allow and looked down to see the apron was, too, red and festive. The ingredients and baking utensils were arranged in front of him and he found a wooden spoon in his hand before Kurt, also wearing an opposing green festive apron over his Christmas jumper, stood opposite him with a bright smile.

"We're making Dresdner Stollen!" He asserted, pulling the measuring cups and flour over to himself "it's a German traditional Christmas loaf, lots of good stuff and you cover it with butter and icing sugar after. Great right? After this, I'm going to see the carolling my church is putting on in the square and the light switch on. There will be stalls of food and drink and little handmade tickets and stuff too! I love the atmosphere, even when the carolling is over they play Christmas music and everyone is so happy! Plus they're saying It may even snow tonight!" As he rambled about his plans he measured out the flour, yeast, sugar and salt into a bowl before he moved on to cutting the butter "Do you have warm Christmas clothes? I know you've still been building up your wardrobe and if you need a scarf or a hat or something you can borrow some of mine and we could buy you some more while there! There's a lovely stall that sells hand-knitted clothes with beautiful patterns! I'm sure we could find something your style." The butter went in the bowl followed by milk before it was pushed back over to Pietro "that needs to be a dough."

Finally, Pietro understood what was going on, he looked between the bowl and his friend beaming at him and saw that he understood. His shoulders relaxed and he finally put the spoon in the bowl, beginning his mix.

"I..have a jumper but it isn't especially fashionable. I think Beast put it in there in November to try and get me to dress warm."

"You should! Especially when it starts to snow! You'll love it when it snows" Kurt was practically bouncing with excitement, making Pietro have to focus very hard on his mixing in hopes it would hide his warming face and growing smile.

"I'm sure I will."

[tomurasprincess]

A Caged Dove Part 4 (Shouto Todoroki x Reader)

Summary: You are a princess from a smaller territory within the kingdom, summoned to the castle to meet with the heir of the throne in the absence of your parents. You think it will simply be a routine trip, until you realize that Prince Shouto has his own plans for you. Whether you agree with them or not.

Pairing: Prince Shouto Todoroki x Reader  Rating: E+ Word Count: 6.5k Chapter Warnings: Dubcon, forced marriage, forced pregnancy, breeding, praise kink, obsession, yandere Series Warnings: Noncon, dubcon, breeding, forced marriage, forced pregnancy, stalking, yandere Note: Fairy Tale AU. (Still more Grimm than Disney). This took longer than I expected because it expanded beyond my expectations and I got a bit stuck. But I’m rather proud of how this chapter turned out. After this part, there will only be one more part and then this series will be finished! Hope you guys enjoy this chapter and find that it was worth the wait.

One || Two || Three || Four || Five (Finale)

It doesn't seem real as the palace erupts into a whirlwind of activity, the entire castle preparing for a royal wedding. In fact, it is the first royal wedding in years, as all of Prince Shouto's siblings have yet to marry.

It doesn't seem real that you have a wedding planner taking you through all aspects of the wedding, through the gown fitting, for the decorations, for the reception. So many choices in such little time that it has left your head spinning.

It doesn't seem real that you don't know how your parents are doing, don't know if they're even still alive and if you're doing this all for nothing. That he won't take you to see them, that he shrugs off the question every time you ask him, under the guise of not wanting to stress you before your big day.

And it certainly doesn't seem real as you're waiting to walk down the aisle, wedding music playing in the background and a smiling Prince Shouto Todoroki standing at the end.

His smile looks genuine, beaming and radiant as if this is simply a traditional wedding with a normal husband and wife. But you know full well the darkness that lay behind that smile, know how utterly wrong this whole thing is.

You pause for a second before you begin to walk down the aisle, mind running through all the scenarios that could get you out of this situation. But you know there is nothing left, nothing to stop this from happening. You pause for another second as you internally weep at the lost opportunities. At the thought that your father is still in a dungeon somewhere, unable to walk you down the aisle or watch his only daughter get married. At the thought that the one you truly wanted was murdered by the very man you're about to marry.

You take a deep breath as the wedding march begins to play and you start to walk down the aisle. All eyes are on you, smiling at the chance to watch such a historic event. You want to scream at them, to claw at their eyes until they're forced to acknowledge that something is very wrong here. But you don't. You simply plaster on a fake smile as you glance at each of them, noticing that nobody from your lands is in attendance at this event, no familiar faces to cling to.

You don't know why you would have expected any differently. Prince Shouto is determined to isolate you, take away everyone in your life that you could cling to for support or comfort, leaving only him for you to rely on.

You make it to the end of the aisle far too quickly and take up your place beside Prince Shouto. His gaze, to an outsider's perspective, may look loving. And perhaps it is. But it's also stark possession and obsession, with just a hint of triumph that he is about to get everything that he wanted.

"Now face each other and hold hands," the priest smiles gently. Prince Shouto instantly listens, turning to you and grabbing your hands as he pulls you just a bit closer. His grip is just a shade too hard, as if he's worried you'll run at the last minute. He has nothing to worry about. You know that there's no escape.

You glance over at the priest and wonder if he knows the truth of this sham of a wedding, if he would help you if he did know the truth. But you suspect that he genuinely does not. His happiness at being called to lead this occasion radiates out from him. But you know you've been fooled before. Nobody is to be trusted in this court.

"Prince Shouto Todoroki and Princess, have you come here freely and without reservation to give yourselves to each other in marriage?"

"I have come freely and without reservation," the Prince says with no hesitation. As he finishes the sentence and it becomes your turn, you feel your hands being gripped even tighter, this time to the point of pain. You're barely able to conceal your wince, to prevent everyone staring at the happy couple from seeing. The grip is a warning, telling you that you need to continue playing your part or there will be consequences.

"I have come freely and without reservation," you reply, a fake smile plastered on your face with your tone as happy as you can manage. Internally, you're screaming.

"Will you honor each other as man and wife for the rest of your lives?"

As before, the Prince instantly agrees, and it becomes your turn. This time the agreement comes more naturally to you. "I will."

"Will you accept children lovingly and bring them up according to the law of the Todoroki Court?"

A bolt of panic runs through you, freezes your veins as your thoughts scatter away into nothing. How stupid to forget this part of the vow, to be surprised in front of such a large crowd. Your family's lives depend on you making it through this ceremony, of pretending you are happy to be getting married.

Prince Shouto is not taken aback at all by this question. Of course he wouldn't be, he had to have expected it. You wonder if you imagine the dark laughter in his voice as he agrees. But when the priest's eyes turn to you for your agreement, you see him smirk out of the corner of your eye and realize one thing. He's amused by this. Amused at your discomfort, at seeing you be forced to surrender to him.

"I will," you barely grit out between clenched teeth. The audience doesn't seem to notice your hesitance, or they least attribute it to nervousness from being married in front of such a large crowd. The priest doesn't notice either, smiling at you as he begins to instruct on the words for the next part of the ceremony.

"I, Prince Todoroki, take you to be my wife for all of time. I swear to be true to you and only you, to have and to hold, in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, and forsaking all others, keep you only onto me. I will love you and honor you all the days of my life. Forever and ever."

Your heart sinks into your chest at hearing those wedding vows. You know they are not traditional to the royal family, having learned about them as part of your nobility and etiquette lessons. Surely someone must notice that something is wrong. But as you scan around the church, you see everyone gazing at you with looks of adoration. Some even coo at each other in soft whispers about how sweet this is, how clearly you're in love with each other.

You're brought back to reality as Prince Shouto digs his nails into the underside of your hand, warning you to pay attention. To recite the final words that will leave you bound to him, with no hope of ever breaking up the marriage. Royals divorcing or separating from each other simply does not happen.

"I, Princess Todoroki, give myself to Prince Shouto, to be my husband, to be yours for all of time. I swear to be true to you and only you, to have and to hold, in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, and forsaking all others, keep you only onto me. I will love you and honor you all the days of my life. Forever and ever."

You are not even surprised at this point to find that nobody notices the difference in your vows. Even the priest doesn't seem to find it strange, as he claps his hands together in joy and says the words you've been dreading to hear.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife! You may kiss the bride."

Shouto wastes no time crossing the distance, wrapping an arm around you and dipping you as he claims your lips in a dominant and possessive kiss. It is far past the etiquette of court and downright immodest for a royal wedding. But everyone simply chuckles, commenting that Prince Shouto is so in love with his bride that he couldn't help but get carried away.

He lifts you up and pulls you into his arms, leaning down to whisper something that causes your whole body to shiver. "Now, you're mine forever, Princess," he chuckles darkly. "I told you I always get what I want." 

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Everything becomes a blur of motion and activity after that. You're ushered away from the wedding chapel and into a separate room as you're freshened up by more servants than you know what to do with. They touch up your makeup, fix any hairs that have fallen from your elaborate hairstyle, and put the train of your wedding dress up into a bustle to dance freely at the reception. As they finish, a beautiful woman with silver hair and a kind smile on her face enters the room. She dismisses the servants with a wave of her hand before turning to face you.

"You're Queen Rei Todoroki." You instantly move to get off the platform where they had you as your dress was being worked on so that you can curtsy, but the woman shakes her head.

"That's not necessary." She examines you closely, walking around to admire your wedding dress. You don't say a thing, too intimidated at making a wrong move or giving away the reality of the situation.

"I know what you're going through," she says calmly. "I know this wedding is against your will."

Your eyes widen as you stare at her, wondering if this is some horrible trap. You keep your mouth shut in fear of saying the wrong thing.

"The same thing happened to me, you know. Enji forced me to marry him as well. The whole of the royal family knows what's happening."

"Then why is Shouto doing the same to me," you blurt out, "and why are you all letting this happen?" Fear slices through you as you slam your hand over your mouth, as if to keep more words from slipping out. What you just said, the tone you used could mean severe consequences when used against the Queen of the Todoroki empire.

"You don't have to fear me," she sighs as she takes in your panicked look. "And as for why we're allowing this, well. The answer is that no one here has any real power beyond Enji. And Shouto also has a bit more power than the rest of us as heir to the throne. And as for why, well, that one should be obvious."

"Obvious how? It's not obvious to me," you say in shock. "I never expected any of this."

"It's obvious because Shouto has been pressured into taking a wife for several years now, and he refused every single time."

"Then why now, and why me?"

"It's because of you that he refused, Princess."

At your confused expression, Queen Rei lets out a sigh. "He refused because the King was trying to match him with other princesses. One more beneficial to the country. But he only has eyes on you. It's always been you for him."

Your mind reels at the implications of this statement. "I wondered," you murmur quietly, "why Shouto chose me, from a smaller territory with little to offer, instead of someone more useful to the kingdom."

She gives a quick nod. "You're a smart woman. That is exactly why. And recently, Enji ruled that Shouto had to take a bride or lose his right to inherit the throne."

You let out a small gasp at that. "Prince Touya abdicated, so that would mean Prince Natsuo, wouldn't it?"

"Yes, and Shouto was not about to let that happen. He wants to rule this kingdom, to be the most important of the country. But your parents kept refusing offers of marriage. So he had to take desperate methods."

You cross your arms over your chest as you glare at her, anger at her building. "It still doesn't excuse any of this."

"No, of course not. But I wanted you to know the truth before you get thrown headfirst into the lion's den of court life."

Your anger deflates just as quickly as it came. There is no use in getting angry at someone who has no control over this situation and is at least trying to be honest with you. You don't thank the Queen, but you do give her a quick nod to show your appreciation.

"Good. I'll have the servants escort you to the reception hall." -------

As the servants lead you through multiple twisting hallways, you have the first opportunity of the day to take a breather and think about what's happened. You're married now. Officially. You have become Princess Todoroki, wife of the heir to the throne and future Queen. Like Queen Rei, however, you doubt that you'll have real power even when Shouto ascends to the throne.

You finally make it to the reception hall, where Shouto is waiting so that you can be officially announced as a married couple and walk in together. He smiles at you as he pulls you closer. "You're going to behave at the reception, aren't you?"

"Of course I am. There's nothing to be done anyway. Not anymore. You made sure of that."

He gives a deep chuckle. "Glad you finally came to accept it. Now let's go, the announcement is about to happen."

You walk through the ornate double doors of the reception hall to face a massive crowd of royalty and nobility, eagerly awaiting the opportunity to greet you both.

"Everyone, please welcome the happy couple, Prince and Princess Todoroki, future heirs to the throne of the Todoroki Empire!"

As you walk arm in arm with your new husband, you feel a level of despair you never knew you could reach. All of the noblewomen have smiles on their faces, but behind those smiles hide pure envy, even hatred. Envy that you were the one married to Prince Shouto and the one that will be Queen alongside him. Hatred that such a lowly noble as you has received the honor instead of them with their more blue blood backgrounds. If only they knew, you think bitterly.

On the other hand, the men also look on with envy. But it's envy directed at Prince Shouto, the man that they consider as having it all. The most handsome in the kingdom, heir to the throne, and now married to someone as beautiful as you. But you notice that they refuse to look you in the eyes, as if they're scared. You sneak a glance at your husband and see that his gaze turns cold whenever he feels someone has stared for just a hair too long. His gaze turns even colder as he turns and sees something.

"Well well well, you're the princess who caused my little brother to lose all sense," a profoundly sarcastic voice says from behind you. He has dark hair and glittering turquoise eyes, along with facial and hand burns that appear to go up under his clothes beyond the parts you can see.

He circles you like a shark circling prey, blatantly ogling you from head to toe before turning to Prince Shouto and smirking. "Gotta admit, I can see why. She's hot enough to be worth pissing the old man off."

"Your comments are unnecessary, Touya," Shouto grits out between clenched teeth. "I didn't marry her to piss him off."

With that name, you can now place the man in front of you: Prince Touya, the oldest of the Todoroki family, who should be heir to the throne. But the black sheep of the family never wanted responsibility and had deliberately ruined his chance years ago. The incident that caused his abdication from the throne has been hotly debated and believed to be what caused his burn scars.

"But it was a nice side benefit, wasn't it?" Prince Touya simply shrugs before leering at you. "And I wouldn't mind getting a piece of that -"

"Seriously Touya, do you always have to be so crude?" A larger, muscular silver-haired man sighs in exasperation as he appears behind Prince Touya. "I apologize for my brother, Princess. Although he is right on one thing, pissing off our dear old dad is always a nice side benefit."

"Something that all three of us can agree on, Natsou," Shouto remarks as he pulls you slightly closer into him, as if trying to stake his claim on you in front of his two brothers.

"All three of you need to behave and act like an actual family in front of the public," a feminine voice scolds. A small woman with silver hair streaked with red gives you a kind smile. "I don't think we've gotten to meet yet. I'm Princess Fuyumi, the only daughter in the family." She gives you a deep curtsy. "That makes us sisters now."

"We'll never be sisters," the words spill out before you can even think to stop them. Your eyes widen as you glance over at your husband to see his reaction. He does not look as furious as you thought he would be, choosing instead to glare at his oldest brother, who is snickering at your response.

"I know your circumstances for joining this family are unique, but that doesn't mean you have to be rude. I promise you'll get used to all of this and learn to love Shouto and the rest of the family."

You hear Prince Touya snicker again at the comment, while Prince Natsuo simply scoffs. Shouto says nothing, merely looking at you to gauge your reaction.

"Unique circumstances are putting it lightly," you say with a certain amount of caution. "But I'm not sure I'll ever get used to it." You leave out the part where you don't think you'll ever love any of them. It won't do you any favors to mention that.

"Don't be silly, of course you will. Mom did, and now she's very happy," Princess Fuyumi reassures you. Having met Queen Rei for all of 10 minutes, you strongly doubt this statement but choose not to push your luck in refuting it.

"Still living in a fairy tale where everything is just fine with this family, are you," Prince Natsuo's voice comes out bitter.

Prince Touya gives a deep chuckle. "Hey, if she wants to live in a world where the royal family isn't fucked up, then let her be naive. We still know how rotten royalty really is."

"Enough, all of you," a deep, booming voice rings out. "You are all still of the Todoroki bloodline, and you will act like it in public."

You instantly know who that voice is without looking. You had always heard that King Enji was a large man, but you were not prepared for the reality. This man is enormous, tall and bulky, with flames decorating his face and body. There does not seem to be an ounce of fat on him, his frame looking like pure muscle. A scowl decorates his face, and you are thankful that it is not yet directed at you and hope that it will stay that way.

But nothing in your life has been lucky so far, and so you freeze when the man turns his scowl on you. You think his expression softens for just a second as he glances between you and your husband, but you can't be sure that you don't imagine it as it vanishes before you can put words to what you saw.

"So, you're my new daughter-in-law." He studies you carefully, as if to figure out what Shouto sees in you. "As my son, Shouto is above his peers and could have had any woman in the kingdom. What made him choose you?"

After a moment's pause, you realize this question is directed at you, and he expects you to answer it. "I beg your pardon, King Enji, but even I am unsure. There must have been better options than me." You know that it's useless at this point to try and get out of this marriage, but you figure that it can't hurt to be on your father-in-law's good side. As the King of the realm, he could make your existence more of a living nightmare than it is already.

"Well, at least you know your place," he gives a sardonic chuckle at your diplomatic response. "You're attractive enough, and your quirk isn't so bad that your children couldn't have a strong combination from the two of you. He could have done worse, I suppose."

The reminder of children leaves you feeling shaky and nervous, and you barely stop yourself from taking a step back from the overwhelming scrutiny of King Enji's gaze. His presence is so strong, so intimidating, that it almost feels like a physical weight against your skin. You only feel able to breathe again when Enji turns to walk away.

"Now, I must attend to my wife and play nice with the commoners for a bit longer. You don't have to, though." He gives a meaningful glance at his son. Prince Shouto's lips curve up into a devious smirk as he nods at his father.

As he finally leaves, you finally relax a bit. You realize that at some point during that conversation, you tucked yourself even closer against Prince Shouto, as if you trusted him to protect you from his very own father. You quickly glance up at his face, hoping that he didn't notice, but when you see his satisfied grin, you know that he did.

Prince Touya sees the exchange between his father and brother and can't stop a laugh from bubbling up. "Yes, Shouto, why are you even still here? Shouldn't you be attending to your new wife now?" The emphasis on attending leaves little doubt on what he means. "Maybe you need some help? I'd be glad to -"

There's a grunt of pain from Prince Touya as Prince Natsuo gives you an apologetic smile before pulling his brother away from the two of you. Princess Fuyumi smiles politely at the two of you, waving her goodbye as she moves to follow her brothers. Prince Shouto ignores them completely as he turns to you.

"My beautiful wife," Shouto murmurs in your ear, "don't you think it's time to retire to the bed chamber?" Your blood runs cold at his words. You did not consider yourself foolish, as you knew this would be coming. But you did not expect it to be quite so soon. Maybe you really are, you muse to yourself, if you genuinely believed that he would wait for you a moment longer than he had to.

"But what about the reception?" You try to pull him towards the crowd of people again in hopes that he will be distracted, but he does not budge. "Don't you want to mingle a bit more? I'm sure more people want to meet with us" He simply smirks at you as he interlocks his arm with yours and pulls you even further away from the party-goers. "You heard my father. He all but dismissed me. And even if he hadn't - I don't care," he shrugs.

"All I want is you right now." You give up trying to pull away, realizing there is no use when he is so determined, and simply let yourself be guided away from the Grand Hall and down multiple winding hallways.  He walks so confidently through them, knowing them like the back of his hand, and you soon find yourself standing outside of a massive, ornate red and white door inlaid with gold trim.

Prince Shouto's quarters. And now your quarter as well.

He pushes open the door smoothly before ushering you inside, locking the door behind him and wasting no time pulling you in for a heated kiss. He's possessive and dominating, devouring your mouth and massaging your tongue with his own. He reaches around to grab your ass, pulling you even closer into him and grinding his hips against your own.

"You have no idea how long I've waited for this moment, my wife," he sighs wistfully. "I have wanted you for so long, and now you're all mine."

He kisses down your jawline, licking and biting at the skin and sucking hard on your pulse point, hard enough that you know it'll leave a bruise. Your heartbeat is frantic as he continues to lick at your skin, trailing his tongue down the column of your neck.

He reluctantly pulls away from you, leading you further into the bed chambers and twirling you around so that he can begin unhooking your wedding dress. He struggles briefly with the complicated fastenings and buttons that make up the dress, and you can't stop a soft laugh.

"Do you need to call someone in and help with that?" You snark at him. "I was told it was rather difficult to get me into it."

Shouto lets out a small growl as you feel a flash of heat against your back, and a ripping sound as he pulls apart the now burnt ribbons and begins to slide your dress down.

"Do you know how expensive that thing was," you say in a shocked tone. From what you could tell, that dress was worth several years of salary from your whole kingdom, let alone your family.

"I'll buy you another dress, hell I'll buy you ten more dresses. But right now, I need to see you." He trails his hot fingertips down your now bare back, causing you to shiver and goosebumps to rise as he follows them up with cold. "I need to be inside of you, wife," he whispers seductively into your ear, and you can't stop the bolt of lust that runs through you.

He chuckles as he feels you tremble, pulling your dress down to the floor and coaxes you into stepping out of it. You stand in only your wedding lingerie, a fancy white ensemble that does nothing to cover your assets. He bites his lip and lets out a low groan as he takes in your appearance before lifting you up and gently placing you on the bed.

"God, you're even more beautiful than I imagined," he murmurs as he runs his hands up your sides. He steals another kiss before making his way down your body, kissing every inch of your heated skin until he makes his way to your breasts. He unhooks your bra with relative ease compared to the dress and wastes no time kneading the soft flesh there. He presses a nipple between two fingers, causing you to let out a soft gasp as he takes the other nipple into his mouth. He applies just the right amount of suction as he laps at you and works them into hardness.

You feel your panties begin to get wet, your skin feeling like it's on fire as he works your body like he already knows it. A finger slips underneath your panties as he traces a cold finger across your folds, causing you to buck away from the sudden sensation. He laughs as he slides down you, ripping your panties apart as if he can't even be bothered to waste time removing them.

"I'm going to make you feel so good, princess." He pushes your thighs apart as he examines you, causing you to burn with embarrassment and try to close your legs. He grips your thighs just a shade too roughly, nails digging into your skin as he snarls. "Don't ever hide yourself from me."

You give a quick nod as you slowly reopen your legs, and he slots himself in between them as he teases your folds with two fingers. "Fuck, you taste so good," he groans when he leans in to lick a wet stripe up them, beginning to devour your juices like a man starved.

You instinctively try to squirm away, the feeling so utterly foreign to you. But Shouto simply tightens his grip on your thighs again, hard enough to bruise as he growls at you. "Stay put, princess. You don't want me to have to tie you down, now do you?"

"N-n-no," you stutter, although whether it's in embarrassment or excitement, even you can't tell. "I'll be good."

He grins at your submissive reply before diving back in between your legs, lapping at your folds before spreading them open with one hand. He attaches himself to your clit, and you throw your head back at the intense sensations running through your body. You have never felt this good, never had anyone touch you so intimately. You reach down to tangle your fingers into his hair, bucking your hips up towards his hungry mouth.

He chuckles at your eagerness, the vibration of it only adding to your pleasure as you feel something building up inside of you. "Shouto, please," you groan, "don't stop, it feels so good."

He slips a finger inside your tight heat at your words, curling it upwards to press against your wet insides. You can't contain your gasps of pleasure, hand tightening against his hair even harder as you try to ground yourself.

Shouto doesn't seem to mind, choosing to suckle even harder on your clit while adding another finger and scissoring you apart at the same time. You realize with a flash of arousal that goes straight to your pussy that he's practically humping the bed as he eats you out, groaning at the friction against his rock hard cock.

The sight of it causes the pressure inside you to finally snap, tearing a moan of pleasure from your throat as you clench down around his fingers. He doesn't stop at your orgasm, continuing to thrust his fingers inside of you as he finds a spot that has you screaming out your pleasure to the room. You're overwhelmed by how good it feels, your first orgasm quickly followed up by your second as your body quivers. Your pussy gushes around Shouto's ruthless fingers, but you can't bring yourself to feel ashamed when he simply continues to lap up your juices as they squirt out of you.

You collapse fully back against the bed, unable to stop the shaking from the aftershocks of your orgasm. Shouto finally removes his fingers, pulling away to smirk down at your blissed out look as he licks his fingers clean. You briefly wonder if he expects you to return the favor, and you find yourself asking the question before you can stop yourself. "Do you - I mean, do I need -"

Even though you can't bring yourself to finish the question, he understands your meaning anyway. "As much as I'd love your mouth on my cock, I'd much rather be inside of you already."

He quickly begins to undress, tearing clothes off when he can't remove them fast enough. His urgency has your pussy clenching, and you do nothing but watch until he stands in front of you completely naked. You can barely stop drooling as you take in his form. He is more muscular than you expected under his clothes, with very little body hair covering his chest. You trail your eyes lower until you see his cock, long, girthy, and already fully erect. "Like what you see, princess?" He laughs as he takes his cock into his hand, smearing the bead of precum at the head and using it to pump his length. He crawls up your body until he's straddling you, grabbing your neck lightly and using it to pull you up into another kiss. You can taste yourself on his tongue, and it only fans your desire even more.

You feel his cockhead prod at your entrance, and your eyes widen as you feel how thick he truly is and realize that's about to be inside of you. "Wait," you stammer, "please go easy."

"I know it's your first time, so I'll go gentle," he smiles down at you, looking softer than you would expect. But then his smile turns up into a smirk. "At first, anyway."

At that, he begins to press slowly into you, inch by agonizing inch. Even though your pussy is soaking wet and he prepped you, the stretch still burns as he slides past the tight outer ring of your muscles. You whimper in pain, a tear running down your face that he kisses away as he shushes you. "It'll only hurt at first, I promise," he comforts you, reaching down in between your bodies to rub his thumb on your clit to distract you from the pain.

Finally, he's sheathed fully inside of you, balls pressing against your backside as he stills to let you adjust to his size. Your walls feel so tight around his cock, and he's barely able to contain himself from instantly pounding into you. But he wants this to feel good for you too, so he continues to rub tight circles on your clit, causing you to pant and clench down around him.

The stretch of your walls around his thickness no longer burns quite as severely, and you already want more. "I think, ahh, I think I'm ready," you manage to gasp out.

He doesn't question you further, choosing to take you at your word as he begins to finally move. His length drags against your sensitive walls, allowing you to feel every vein and ridge on his cock. It only increases your pleasure as he sets a slow but hard pace, pulling almost entirely out of you before thrusting all the way back inside.

"Finally," he moans, "finally you're truly mine." He grabs your legs and traps them against his body, lifting your hips so that he can fuck down into you. Your ankles are resting against his shoulders as he pins you down with his body. "I'm going to fill this pussy up with my cum."

You don't consider the implication of his words immediately, too distracted by how deep he is inside your aching pussy in this new position. But that quickly changes as words begin to spill from his mouth as his pace increases.

"God, I can't wait to see how big and swollen you look when you're pregnant with our baby. You're going to look radiant." His moans get louder and his thrusts get quicker inside of you. "I'll pump you so full of cum, every single night until you're finally knocked up."

Your eyes widen in fear as the impact of his words hit you. You are not ignorant. You knew that there would have to be the eventual talk of children. But you were naive in thinking there would be a discussion, maybe even a way out of it. You had no idea that he already intended for you to be pregnant.

"Wait, wait," you fumble with the right words, "not yet, we don't have to do this yet." You try to reason with him, but when he adjusts his angle to thrust against a spot inside you that has you seeing stars, you find yourself unable to think of anything at all. The thickest vein running down his length presses against that spot, grinding against it as he pounds into your pussy so hard that your breasts bounce.

"Going to be so full of cum that it spills out of your pretty little pussy, ahh, fuck you feel so good," his grunts are bordering on primal now. You try to move, plant your legs into the mattress, and get away enough so that he doesn't cum inside you, but he simply presses down even harder on your body. The weight of him against you has you gasping for air, the lightheadedness as you try to suck in air only increasing the intensity of your pleasure.

His rhythm becomes erratic as he nears his end, thumb grinding down hard onto your throbbing bead as he seeks to make you cum alongside him. "Ahh, Shouto, please," you whimper as you throw your head from side to side, toes beginning to curl as the pressure inside you continues to build up.

Finally, he thrusts himself as deeply as he can, pressing hard against your cervix as you feel thick ropes of cum shooting inside of you. He groans into your ear as you feel his cock pulsing inside of you. You can't stop your orgasm, pussy clenching hard against his cock. Your fluttering walls seem to suck his cum even deeper inside of you, and the position you're pinned in lets not a single drop slide out of you.

Shouto smiles down at you as you come down from your orgasmic high, both of you panting and sweaty. "Shh, you were so good for me, princess," he coos gentle words at you as he kisses away tears that you didn't even realize were there. He uses his cold hand to trail along your skin that still feels like it's on fire, cooling you down as he holds you tightly against his body.

You squirm to get out from under him, but he instantly stops you. "No, we're going to stay just a bit longer like this. Can't have any of my cum slipping out."

You can't seem to stop shaking, the reality of your situation finally hitting you hard. "Shouto," you whisper, "can I ask you something? And get an honest answer?"

"Anything, my wife," he murmurs as he plays with your hair and continues to cool you down with his hand. "I will never lie to you."

You're afraid to know the answer to this question, not even sure if you want a yes or a no. But you have to ask it anyway. "Do you - "you swallow hard, "do you actually love me? Or did you simply want a wife and children, and it didn't necessarily matter who with?"

You feel a moment of satisfaction as you see him look surprised for the first time. But that satisfaction is quickly squashed when you see his face fall, looking desperately crushed at your question. "Of course I love you," he whispers in a pained voice, "and I have always loved you. This was never just about a wife and children. This was about having you as my wife, and having children with you." He pauses for a second before adding, "You're going to be such a great mother, you know. And a great queen to stand by my side."

You close your eyes as you begin to tremble at his response, unsure if the emotion overcoming you is relief or not. Unsure if you'll ever be able to reciprocate his feelings, or if you already do and just won't admit it even to yourself. Unsure if you're ready to become a mother, to become Queen, to become Shouto's one and only.

But you are sure of one thing.

To a caged dove, none of that matters.

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

Tags: @burnedbyshoto, @thewheezingwyvern, @animewh0re, @ttamaki, @lildreamer93, @yaoyorozuwrites, @redbeanteax, @kittygonyan, @bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love, @daedaep69, @heyybrittannia, @groovydreamertrash, @hisoknen, @chou-maitresse, @shoutogepi, @togasknifes, @kingtamakimurder, @1-800-callmekatsuki, @league-of-thots, @bakugotrashpanda, @engel-hageshii, @hoefortodo, @mhafanfics19, @daringbanshee, @otaku-explosion, @hellomary16, @vanillaicebaby, @theravencawsatmidnight, @universaltys​, @simixchan​, @crackhead1-800​, @acehyacinth​, @ererokii​, @la-lay​, @hadesnewpersephone​

[iliveiloveiwrite]

Baby, Please Come Home // A Very Harry Potter Christmas (D.M.)

Summary: For as long as you have loved Draco Malfoy, you had celebrated Christmas with him. This year, however, things could be different.

A/N: Here is my fic for A Very Harry Potter Christmas orchestrated by @whack-ed and @jamilelucato! My prompt is day five: digging out christmas ornaments. I hope you all like!

Warnings: fluff, christmas decorations, missing someone, lots of feelings

Word count: 2k (I’m sorry it isn't longer!)

There was one time of year that you simply adored. From the moment the hands of the clock ticked over to the first of December, childish excitement and glee filled you.

It was the build-up combined with the shopping and innocent secrets to do with gifts that had your stomach in a whirl and your heart pounding. Each year you tried to outdo yourself; searching for the one gift that would bring out the shine in Draco’s smile, though he liked to remind you that you were indeed the cause of such a shine.

This year felt different, however. It wasn’t that you weren’t excited, and it wasn’t that you weren’t prepared. It was the fact that there was worry brewing deep within you that Draco would not be able to make it home in time for Christmas.

Sending him away had been hard on you both, but it had to be done. An opportunity such as the one he had been offered was not something to be missed. Invited back to the school of witchcraft and wizardry that had educated him so thoroughly, Draco had been offered the chance to lecture some of the advance students in the art of healing.

The letter offering him the job arrived on the doorstep in the last week of August. Thinking back to it, you remember the trembling of his hands as he read over McGonagall’s words and what she was proposing. There hadn’t been any other answer than yes. You had seen it in his eyes when he handed you the letter; promising not to go, but to stay with you.

A shake of your head stopped his rambling; kept him frozen to the spot as you called him a fool for thinking he would turn this opportunity down. Draco had argued; he didn’t want to leave you for so long, knowing he would miss you too much. Whilst it flattered and sent your heart racing in your chest, you urged him to accept, telling him how good this would be for him.

Eventually, he relented. Draco wrote back to McGonagall, accepting the job offer and tell her he would see her on the first day of term.

Three months on and it was hard. It had been hard to wave him away; bag in hand, filled with his belongings. Draco had left you with a long, hard kiss, promising to be back in time for Christmas.

December brought with it colder days and longer nights. It brought with it frozen breath and warm scarves. To you, December was the month of traditions.

The first weekend in December was time dedicated to decorating the house you have shared with Draco for the last two years. Moving in together once spotting the perfect cottage for you to make your first home.

The attic is warm and musty when you open the door, switching on the small light. Wiping a hand across your forehead, it takes no time at all to spy the boxes. They’re piled up to the left of the door, strings of red and gold tinsel peeking out of the top as if they were too excited for the holiday season to descend and chose to start the decorating without you.

As you place the final box in the living room, your phone rings. The smile that crosses your face when you see Draco’s name flash on the screen is large and filled with love.

“Love,” You greet.

“Darling,” He replies, “How are you?”

“I’m okay,” You comment, opening the closest box to you. “How are you? How is Hogwarts?”

“Hogwarts is fine. It’s just not the same without you.”

You smile though he cannot see you. It had been at Hogwarts that your friendship first developed which then grew into a relationship in your Fifth Year when Draco quietly confessed his feelings for you. He had wanted you to know the truth, he said, in case things start to take a turn for the worse.

Things did take a turn for the worst; a war broke out, but you persisted. You kept your hold of Draco, standing by his side through it all. Even now, years later, Draco reminded you that he would never be able to pay you back for the kindness you showed him through those years.

You laugh, memories of the enchanting castle and searing kisses behind tapestries taking over your mind, “Do you remember-”

“That night in the Room of Requirement?” Draco finishes: laughter lightening his voice as he remembers the very same night.

You snort, “I think we missed all our morning classes the day after.”

“We did,” Draco confirms; his voice warm, “But I would do it all again.”

Heat fills your face and you’re suddenly hit with how much you miss him. It came and went in waves; each one stronger than the last but as you look at the numerous boxes labelled ‘Christmas decorations’ in Draco’s elegant scrawl, you cannot help but miss him fiercely.

If he were here right now, music would be playing, and smiles would be bright. Draco’s area of expertise was always the tree; it was his job to place the tree topper on at the end. The tree would be glowing with its lights, the tinsel would be shimmering away, but the tree was not complete until Draco had placed the golden tree topper on.

A deep ache fills you at the awful realisation that it may have to be you to finish the tree this year.

Quietly, you mumble into the phone, “I miss you.”

“I miss you too. So much. I’ll try to be home as fast as I can,” Draco whispers; his voice filled with promise.

“I know you will,” You murmur, willing yourself not to cry on the phone to him.

“How is the decorating going?” Draco asks, desperate to change the subject and not linger on uncertainties.

You laugh mirthlessly, glancing around the bare living room filled with boxes, “I haven’t started.”

“What?” Draco exclaims, shock resounding through his tone, “You’re usually done by now and I’m trying to persuade you otherwise.”

You shrug your shoulders even though Draco can’t see you. “I don’t know,” You state, trailing off before picking your train of thought back up, “It just didn’t feel the same without you.”

Draco is silent for a minute. No sound comes from his end of the phone until you hear him whisper, “Darling…”

“I know, I know,” You repeat, “You’ll try to be home as fast as you can but love, please come home.”

Draco hangs up, whispering an ‘I love you’ before coming off the phone. Pulling the device away from your ear, you stare down at your wallpaper. An image of you and Draco from last Christmas – his arm hooked around your waist with his body angled towards you. Hermione had snapped the photo without either of your noticing. The smile on your face the result of whatever draco happened to be whispering in your ear.

Looking around the too-large living room, you found it hard to remember a single Christmas without Draco. The boxes of Christmas decorations all called to you; all wanting to be put up and shown to the world.

Digging through the first box, you feel tears spring to your eyes as you hold the first ornament daintily in both hands. A grand glass bauble given to you by Draco; inside holds a small winter scene that never fails to remind you of a winter holiday shared some years ago. Draco bought it on a whim; being reminded of the very same holiday. He had presented it to you, smiling through the kiss you had given him before placing the bauble on the forever green tree.

Sighing, you fold your arms, protecting yourself from the dread wanting to crush you. He had to come home for Christmas; he simply had to.

-----------

The day continues to be slow; small decorations placed on the mantle piece and bookshelves. It is just about as much as you can handle without Draco by your side.

As night descends, you climb the stairs, filled with the increasing hope that Draco would be home soon to finish adorning your home with Christmas cheer.

Settling your head on your pillow, you automatically reach out to the other side of the bed, already beginning to dream of a morning when you wake to find him lying beside you.

A crash and a bang from down below has you leaping out of bed and reaching for your wand. Your heart pounds in your chest as you hold your wand to your chest, ready to hex whoever it may be in your home. In your head, you go through possible reasons for anyone to enter your home. The war had been over for years; Draco had repented – there had been no sense of danger for a long time.

Adrenaline courses through your veins as you tiptoe downstairs. Pausing at the door to the living room, you spy a figure rifling through the boxes of decorations still left to put up. The figure is tall and lithe, yet it is too dark to see any defining features.

You let out a screech as you force your way into the room, wand at the ready.

“Darling! It’s me!” The voice shouts, hands coming up to rest above their head.

“Draco!” You shout, “What are you doing here?”

“I heard the sadness in your voice, and I knew I had to come home to you.”

“And give me a heart attack?”

Draco smiles bashfully, “That part was accident, I promise.”

“I’d hope so.”

“Darling?” Draco calls.

“Yes?”

“Will you put your wand down now? There’s no threat.”

“Oh,” you gasp, realising you still had the wand pointed at the love of your life. You drop your wand, placing it gently on the chest of drawers before turning back to face the man who had stolen your heart and had yet to give to back.

It is then that you realise who exactly stands before you with a boyish grin and mischief bright in his grey eyes. You launch yourself into his arms; Draco catching you in his own. He laughs, the sound loud in your ear. His strong arms are tight around your waist as he buried his face in your neck, inhaling deeply, feeling evermore at home in your arms.

“You’re home,” You whisper, voice full of awe.

“I’m home,” He confirms, lips brushing over the soft skin of your neck making you shiver.

Stepping away from him, you take your first look at the newly decorated living room. A dark green wreath sits on the living room door, centred perfectly. Next, your eyes spy the garland wrapping around the mantle piece, warm lights shining from it as they reflect from the metallic snowmen standing behind it.

It’s like a winter wonderland.

Draco keeps a tight hold on you, his arm wrapped around your waist. You spin his arms, your face a picture of wonderment, “Draco, did you do all this?”

Draco leans down, pressing a long awaited kiss to your cheek before replying. “I started it without you, but I think I need your help for the rest.”

“Why?”

“You sounded so sad on the phone. I know how much you love traditions and decorating the house is one of ours. I asked McGonagall to leave early, and she said yes.”

“She said yes?”

Draco nods, smiling, “She said yes, so I walked to Hogsmeade and apparated home… to you.”

“I’m glad you’re home,” You whisper, voice truthful.

“I’m glad I’m home too.”

You smile, leaning into his warm body. Turning your face to him, you smile widely before pulling him in for a long kiss. Breaking away, you ask, “What else is there left to do?”

He laughs, ducking down for one more kiss before answering, “Just the tree. Do you think you’re up for it?”

Leaving the warmth of his arms, you wander over to the box of decorations you had brought downstairs only yesterday. Reaching for a golden bauble, you hold it out to Draco, “More than up for it.”

*****

General (HP) taglist: @chaotic-fae-queen @theweasleysredhair @harrypotter289 @kalimagik @heloisedaphnebrightmore @nebulablakemurphy @figlia--della--luna @idont-knowrn @liilyevanss @big-galaxy-chaos @black-lake-confessions @annasofiaearlobe @imboredandneedalife @levylovegood @mytreec @haphazardhufflepuff @teheharrypotter @chaoticgirl04 @accio-rogers @starlightweasley @dreaming-about-fanfictions @lestersglitterglue @msmimimerton @obx-beach @izzytheninja @slytherinprincess03 @bbeauttyybbx @breadqueen95 @acciotwinz @kylosleftbuttcheek @kashishwrites @slytherinsunrise @remmyswritings @they-write-once-in-a-blue-moon @ria-rests-here @superbturtlemakerathlete @inglourious-imagines @ithilwen-lionheart @now-its-time-for-a-breakdown @ilovejjmaybank @theonly1outof-a-billion @phuvioqhile @moatsnow

Draco Malfoy taglist: @the--queen-of-hell @sycathorn-slush @obxmxybxnk @obx-beach​ @dracomalfoyswifey​ @kashishwrites​ @justmesadgirl​ @detroitobsessed​ @reaganwonders​ @aspiringsloth20​ @just-a-belgian-girl​ @lahoete​ @minty-malfoy​ @fallinallinmendes​ @ravenclawbitch426​ @ochrythum​ @beiahadid​ @gryffindors-weasley​ @dracosathenaeum​

[bump1nthen1ght]

Waltz of the Vampire (Vampire x Reader)

Pairing: Fem!Fat!Reader/Fem!Vampire

Genre: Fantasy (Vaguely Historical/Renaissance)

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3469 words

Summary: You forcibly attend the ball of the rich family that has just moved to town, unexpectedly finding comfort with one of their daughters.

Request: Hey!! I love your writing a lot! Would you consider an elf or a vampire whatever suits your fancy with a fat fem!reader. I try hard not to hate my body but it can be really hard sometimes and I know a lot of people go through it not just plus size folks but... idk it’s my weakness and a huge comfort. Anyway I hope you have a awesome day!!!

A/N: I really loved writing this request, and after I finish Thicker than Water, I might make a part two.

Serena has been to a lot of parties. Too many, in her opinion, even over her 326-year span of life. Her matriarch, “Mother” as she is called by her and the coven, believes there is no such thing.

Every move they make is celebrated by a grand ball, invitations sent out to every available person. Mother claims it’s the best way for them to fit in, to hide in the crowd rather than the shadows.

Serena understands this, she’s seen it work wonder for their reputation time and time again, but she still does not like them.

Tonight is especially dreadful, a bad hunt the day before and a quick spat with her “brother” enough to sour the whole get together. Serena spends most of the night eluding suitors and dance partners, embracing a mysterious persona so she can enjoy some alone-time.

As she looks around at the dance floor, Serena concludes that she is not a fan of the new fashion statements of this era. A bit too strict, too formal, with precise lacings and starchy hoop skirts. It makes the dance floor too stuffy in her opinion, no room to twirl your fabric or move your limbs.

She sips on her special red wine, eye’s lazily perusing the hall for her siblings, hoping to gain some company, when she spots you. Selena is brought to a pause, mid-drink, as your embroidered skirt glimmers, catching the light as you twirl it across the room. Her eyes widen, determination peaked when she notices you don’t have a partner.

How beautiful.

----------

Oooh, I love this song.

You hum, unconsciously bouncing from side to side as your favorite piano piece begins to play. It’s a piece you have on your list to learn in the future, bubbly and cheerful with a bumpy melody and the option for a fun violin accompaniment.

The energy of the music quickly translates to the dance floor, where couple’s begin to giggle and improvise amidst the strict waltz and counted-steps. It’s a shame that it’s such a good piece because for the first time of the night, you really wish someone would ask you to dance.

When the news the MacArthur’s were throwing a huge welcoming ball had reached your household, your mother quickly began throwing together preparations for you to attend. You had sighed, set your feet in a preemptive ice bath, and ready for another boring night.

As a former socialite herself, from girlhood you were forced to attend party after party. While it had done as intended and transformed your sister into a perfect lady, it had the opposite effect on you. The stiffness of the hoop skirts, the suits, and all the damn people always stuffed up your throat and flushed your face. With your sister as the shining star, it was easy for you to slip into the shadows, and avoid the preening of your mother’s etiquette lessons.

Now, as a growing woman with more and more free-time, you used all of your abilities to avoid huge social gatherings. You found your place amongst small gatherings with local friends, sneaking wine from the cellar and telling stories in the freezing cold around a fire

But as the music increases it’s tempo, with flourishing skirts and plenty of laughter, you can’t help but lose yourself in the joviality of the gathering. The fancy dresses, the even fancier alcohol, and the decadent ballroom had you wondering if you had been missing out a bit.

If only Margaret and Min-Young were here, now that would be a party.

You giggle into your champagne, heels still tapping against the hardwood and hand slightly tossing your skirt back and forth. You easily fall back into your reclusive corner to avoid embarrassing eyes who may glance upon your solitude. But a tiny yelp escapes you when your heel accidentally digs into a foot. You whip around, faced already flushed red with embarrassment.

“Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry! I didn’t look where...I was…”

Behind you, dressed in a dark purple satin gown, is Serena Macarthur herself. She stands a solid two heads above you, hair done up in an immaculate up do and two shimmering ruby earrings dangling from her ears. Her face is serene, lips curled up in a bit of a smirk. You quickly jerk away and give a half-decent curtsy, noticing her beautiful black dancing shoes which you just stomped on. “I apologize, Miss Macarthur, I can’t believe I acted so foolishly. I didn’t realize-”

“Oh, there is no need to worry darling. I’m alright, no harm done.” She says, her voice low and musical, almost like a thrumming bass line. Her gloved hand is placed on your shoulder, the other slides up your neck and tilts up your chin to meet her eye line.

My god, she is stunning.

Her eyes are a color you’ve never seen before, not dissimilar to the sharp gemstones in her earrings. Serena’s makeup, simple yet sharp, does everything to accentuate the cardinal-red of her irises. You can feel the simmering blush heating up your skin as she continues to stare. “I was actually coming this way to speak to you, flower. It’s my fault really, for sneaking up on you.”

You shake your hands, nearly spilling over the champagne in your glass. “Oh no, it’s no problem. Like you said, no harm done”. You force a giggle, hastily taking a sip of your champagne. “May I ask what you wished to speak of?”

Serena smiles, a smirk which is just as sharp as the rest of her, though her eyes betray no slyness or ill-will. “I was going to enquire about your dress. I noticed it from across the room and was stunned by how enchanting it is.”

“Oh! Well, thank you very much.” You blush, unconsciously rubbing your finger over the embroidered flowers on the skirt. “I actually-”

“Whoops!”

In less than a second, you find yourself right next to Serena, as a drunk dancer trips and spills his drink all over the floor. You blink, brain not even fully processing what just happened, as you notice Serena’s arm on your elbow and the red wine splattered where you stood just moments ago.

Did she move me? But when-how did she-

“Sorry! Sorry about that.” The man slurs, sheepishly scratching the back of his head. His partner, a distressed young woman, grabs his elbow and forces him to stand straight. “Guess I’ve had too much.” His embarrassed partner chokes out a laugh as he continues to sway.

“Yes, it seems you have. Make sure to fix that, soon.”

Serena’s tone is barely above talking volume, but holds a command like a powerful shout, Both of the dancers jerk with surprise, furiously bowing as the female drags the man out of the hall.

Serena sighs, rubbing her forehead with exasperation. She turns toward you, smiles back on her face.

“Would you like to take this to the garden? Seems the party is getting a bit too rowdy for good conversation.”

You nod, still a bit befuddled by Serena’s quick mood change and even quicker reflexes. But you link elbows when she holds hers up in invitation nonetheless, following her outside.

---------

The Macarthur estate is beautiful, as expected, and the garden fits that image to a T. Even in the moonlight you can see the finely cultivated roses bushes which decorate it, along with the gleaming marble fountain and sitting space under an ornately decorated gazebo. The two of your heels click along the paved path as you walk towards the center, your half-empty drink still in hand.

“You were sadly interrupted, but you were mentioning something about the dress?”

You nod, taking another long sip of your champagne, hoping a little alcohol may temper your thoughts.

“Yes, I was just going to say that I made it myself.” Serena’s eyes grow wide, eyes darting up and down your attire, and you feel yourself fluster. “It’s a tradition in my family, you see. My great-great-grandmother was very diligent when it came to teaching her kids how to sew, even the boys, and it became such an insisted upon skill that all her children ended up making their own evening clothing for special occasions. It ended up filtering down that every child makes one special outfit themselves, for what occasion it doesn’t particularly matter, but something thatt is uniquely you.” You pull up the end of your skirt, pointing out the flower pattern. “I’ve always had a fondness for gardening, so I tried to incorporate that into my dress. Plus,” You smooth out your skirt, “Most party dresses I’ve found are a bit too restrictive for my tastes, I wanted something I could really get into some fun with, y’know?” You force a giggle, immediately wondering if that comment was a bit too salacious for high-society talk. Serena simply smirks, letting out a low chuckle of her own.

“I wholeheartedly agree. May I take a closer look?” She gestures to your skirt and you hastily nod. The two of you take a seat by the fountain, Serena’s glove accidentally brushing against your calf as she picks up your skirt. You try and control your shiver from the simple contact. She hums admirably as she runs along your work. “Such incredibly done Sunflowers, the detail you put in is astounding. And these are forget-me-nots, correct?”

“Oh yes, those are my favorite kind.” Serena’s hands continue to run along the linework, following the bumps and dips of each flower petal. “As you can see I had trouble with the lavender, what with the petals being so small.” Serena shakes her head, a fond smile on her face. She looks up at you, forcing you to hastily act as if you weren’t admiring her face.

“The work you put in makes them twice as beautiful, mistakes be damned.” You blush even harder, throwing your hand and taking a final sip of your champagne.

“Thank you very much, but I have a long way to go.”

Serena’s hand hasn’t left your skirt, now resting on her lap as she continues to look at you. You swallow the last droplets of champagne down your throat, trying to fill the silence.

“The band is incredible, did you hire them locally?” You stutter, setting down your glass. Serena continues to fiddle with your skirt.

“Some of them, yes, but the violinist is actually my older sister, Marigold.”

“Wow! Make sure to give her my compliments, she’s very talented.” Serena nods, before her eyes dart down your toes. As the music echoes out of the hall and into the garden, you had unconsciously begun to tap your toes to the beat. When she glances at you, she can see your head slightly bobbing, a content look painting your face. A small smile forces one on to hers.

How cute. She internally sighs, noting how soft the skin of your cheek looks, the nice curve of your jaw, and your adorable noise. The pulsing blood which would run down your throat, the crimson looking devine against your exposed collarbone and dripping below your breast line.

She stands up abruptly, forcing those evocative thoughts out of her mind. You were quite cute and good company, someone Serena would like to get to know. Sometimes the crossed wires of her brain confused attraction for bloodlust, mistaking the butterflies for hunger pains.. She is almost embarrassed; It was one of the common hurdles new vampires had to overcome, a bridge she thought she crossed years ago

You startle, looking up at her with innocent doe eyes. Serena holds out her hand, ignoring how she can hear your steady pulse, unintentionally matching the beat of the music.

“May I have this dance, fair lady?” She almost whispers, bowing slightly.

Your face flushes, nodding without a word, and slipping your bare hand into her glove.

Serena boldly grabs your hip and presses you against her, quickly taking the lead. Your brain fervently recalls all of your formal dancing lessons, pressing your head into her chest as she takes you along.

In her arms, following her perfected steps, that slithering self-consciousness sneaks back into your brain. Your logic tries to reason with it;

You wanted to dance, but now that this beautiful woman has gladly offered her hand, you want to stop?

But your insecurities are louder, screaming about every trip and every spare touch. This close, you can feel her firm musculature through the dress, spotting the hint of her bicep as she leads you. With her dainty and elegant hand on your side, you feel twice aware of your size underneath, every imperfection concealed by your dress.

You had fallen in love with this dress when making it, but had always been hesitant to wear it. You feared that once you put it on, that beautiful picture in your mind would shatter, leaving you forlorned of what could never be. Not with you wearing it, you had thought, avoiding your own mirror as you left.

“Something on your mind, flower?”

Serena whispers into your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. Your back jerks and contorts back into position, almost stepping your foot on hers. You shake your head furiously.

“Oh no! I-I just-” You stumble, trying to find an easy excuse, but are stopped when you take a look at her face.

She’s resplendent, even up close, not a hint of makeup to be seen. But across her cheeks, slightly faded from what looks like years away from the sun, are-

“My, you have such wonderful freckles.” You murmur, without a second thought.

Unbeknownst to you, if Serena could blush, she would. But the scrunched up look of embarrassment is telling, hinting that maybe this beautiful heiress has her own things she hides away.

“W-well, thank you.” She hastily utters, eyes averting from yours. It’s uncharacteristically shy and you can’t control the giggle that escapes you.

To give her some reprieve, you take your eyes off her face and trail them around the garden. They catch on the fountain, where the contrasting colors of your dresses stand out amidst the black. In the reflection, the two of you could not look more different. Serena stands a head above you, slim-fitted dark purple dress pulled across her curves, while your bright green dress cinches at the waist, flowing out like the flower's detailed skirt. It blows and beckons with every movement, brushing occasionally against your form and showing off the contours of your body.

Damn, you think, we look hot.

Just as fickle as it’s counterpoint, confidence quickly overtakes your mind, blocking out the noise of your doubt. You hold tight to your beautiful partner, in the beautiful dress that you made, and allow the happiness of this moment to exist uninterrupted, however short it may be.

The music increases its pace, the smooth line of a saxophone bringing up the energy. With a new burst of energy, you allow yourself to improvise amidst the  strict waltz. You lift your weight off your heels and try to glide from step to step, like the fast-paced tango dancers your mother once took you to see. Serena matches your enthusiasm, gripping your waist, even lifting you a few inches off the ground when a particular chord strikes. Her fingers slightly tickle your ribs, an ecstatic giggle escaping you and you falter a misstep. Your mind almost stops, embarrassed by your stumble and that insecurity sneaking back in, but Serena follows your new tempo with grace, urging you along with improvisation.

Your bodies follow the music with abandon, ordered steps devolving into impassioned stamps and twists, Serena twirling you around as the violin and piano sing from afar. Your heart and mind are running on adrenaline. It’s like when you were little, letting out your energy in any way possible. Serena’s laughter is magical and for once you don’t detest your awkward snorts and chuckles.

As the music slows, the two of you near-tumble back into the fountain, taking a seat with heaving chests.

“Whew, I haven’t danced like that in a while!” You say, brushing a stray hair back behind your ear. Serena nods, patting her stomach as she continues to laugh.

“Me as well. I forgot how fun it could be, when you’re not counting your steps.”

“Oh good, you do that too. I always wondered how no one got dreadfully bored just saying 1-2-3 over and over.” You mutter, taking in a deep breath and patting her thigh. Your other hand drifts down to the fountain water, letting your fingertips brush across the top and inadvertently catching your reflection once more.

It’s not the most flattering angle, your shoulders slump and the water slightly distorted, and those intruding thoughts try to slip in once more.

Oh shut up, let us have this.

Your logic sighs, batting it away without another second thought.

As the two of you sit, your energy eventually begins to drift back down, your muscles slightly tired from that short burst of impact. You sneak a glance at Serena.

While her outfit is still immaculate, her updo shows the smallest signs of dishelevement, curly black hairs falling down above her ears. In a way, she’s more beautiful than ever.

“Me and some friends are actually getting together next week. The shepherd's daughter, Violet, is getting married and they are throwing a little shindig at the barn to celebrate. Do you want to come?”

Serena looks up at you, slightly surprised, face furrowed with that hidden bashfulness. But she nods nonetheless, shooting you a bright smile.

Still high off your dance, you just barely miss her large fangs, which glimmer under the moonlight.

You smile back, only startled when the large bell tower from  the center of town chimes. Your head looks towards it’s large face and back towards the moon position. You’d guess it was midnight. Seems the two of you had lost track of time while dancing.

“Well, I should probably be going.” You say, standing up and brushing off your skirt. “I do have some gardening to attend to in the morning, going to need a solid amount of sleep. But,” You say, eyes demure and locked on your toes as Serena stands up, “I had a lot of fun tonight. More than usual, I would say.” You giggle, twirling a strand of your hair. Serena hmms in agreement.

“Me as well, flower. Your company has been the highlight of my night.”

In a bold move, Serena grabs your hand and lays a kiss on the back of it. Her eyes radiate that power and certainty from before, crimson irises shining in the night. Your blush crawls its way back up your neck.

“I-I can say the same.”

The two of you stay in that position for a moment, Serena pulling away her lips but keeping a lingering hold on your hand. Your heart thrums in your chest, while hers is deathly silent. Neither of you wants to be the first to pull away.

“I-uhm.” You stumble, hand still locked in place.

Now’s as good a time as any. You suppose.

In a quick movement, your hand loosens from Serena’s grasp and you give a quick peck on her cheek. In another, you have pulled away, sprinting towards your carriage.

“I-I’ll see you Saturday!” You shout, nearly tripping over a rose bush.

Left behind in the garden stands Serena, cold hand pressed against the burning skin of her cheek. Your kiss shot through her body like a lightning strike, almost jolting her frozen-heart alight.

That night, Serena goes for a hunt. She barely takes the time to change out of her formal clothes, nearly tearing the delicate lacework of her dress. Her claws catch on her gloves and almost rip apart, her heels scuffing the floor as she kicks them off and to the side. Her undead body is thrumming with life, untapped energy that longs to get out.

Her thoughts run a mile a minute, forcibly distracted by the Grizzly bear she currently has in a choke hold. It puts up a good fight, but Serena is running off of pure bloodlust.

At least, she thinks it’s bloodlust. A deeper part of her knows it's something else; The sparking fire of something new and a little bit frightening.

The last time she was personally invited to a ball, an event, a ceremony was less than a couple months ago. When you hold a position such as hers, look like her, they are common occurrences.

But to a party? Not a politically motivated meetup, but a genuine, let your hair down, party? Well, she hadn’t been to one since she was a youngling of 150.

And for the first time in a while, she is excited.

[caffeinatedbraincell]

So you asked about prompts? ;D What about Joe/Nicky + any team member cuddling for warmth? Or something about all of them sharing clothes? Huge bonus if Lykon is still part of the Guard ❤️❤️❤️

Thank you anon for the ask!! 💕 This took forever but here it is~

Read on AO3

“Whose idea was this, again?” Joe complained, readjusting the weight of the front half of the giant plastic evergreen. He was sweating and freezing at the same time, which was decidedly one of his least favorite feelings ever.

“Yeah, I wonder,” Quynh seconded from behind him, throwing Andy a dirty look.

Andy sauntered hands-free in front of them, talking animatedly with Nicky and Lykon as they walked. The three of them clearly loved the snow, though Joe doubted they would be having even half as much fun if they had to carry the tree.

Quynh spat out some plastic pine needles. “Andromache! It’s your turn to carry this, come here!”

“Pleeease babe, we’re almost home!”

“Yeah,” Nicky interjected. “Besides, we have to carry the presents!” He waved the small, sparkly gift bag at them before pointedly turning back around.

Joe muttered something in Arabic about lazy spouses with nice asses, and Quynh cackled.

“Alright, alright,” Lykon interjected, jumping in front to get everyone’s attention. “Booker just texted me that he’s managed to get Nile out of the house under the pretext of, and I quote, ‘the snowball duel of the century.’ They’re going to the mountain pass, so we have two hours to get set up.”

“Perfetto,” Nicky said. “It’ll take me about twenty minutes to get the cookies in the oven, and then I’ll help decorate the tree.”

“You better get out in less than twenty,” Quynh warned. “When am I supposed to work? Do you even know how long it takes to cook chicken?”

“He doesn’t,” Joe confirmed.

“Habibi, that’s not fair. What about that time I made-”

A long, ominous buzz innervated all of their phones simultaneously. It was an emergency weather alert.

“Blizzard warning until 2:15 AM. All inner city residents are encouraged to shelter in place until further notice. Sudden snowfall and landslides may prove deadly,” Nicky read.

“Lykon, text Booker,” Andy ordered.

“On it.”

“No use,” Nicky cut in. “They’re probably already at the mountain pass. They won’t make it back in time.”

Andy swore loudly. “Joe, get the car. We’re going after them.”

Quynh and Joe dropped the tree and ran towards the house. By the time Joe started the car, Quynh was climbing down the porch steps with an armful of towels. The five of them piled into the car and tore down the icy roads.

The storm picked up with terrifying haste. When they got to the bridge near the mountain pass, visibility was already nearing zero. Joe switched places with Andy, clambering into the passenger seat so she could take the wheel. If anything could help them now, it was Andy’s extensive experience with driving in extreme weather conditions.

As they traveled through the pass, everyone kept their eyes trained on the snowy slopes, looking for any signs of Nile and Booker.

Suddenly, Lykon cried out in horror. Only a few feet away from the road were two motionless bodies, almost fully buried in a snow drift.

“Cazzo!” Nicky yelled, leaping out of the car. “There must have been an avalanche!”

Andy shoved the gearshift into parking and followed, joining the others as they attempted to dig out their friends with their bare hands. About two minutes after the frostbite set in, they were able to pull Nile and Booker free of the drift.

“Why aren’t they waking up?” Lykon asked, a tinge of panic in his voice. Andy rubbed Nile’s wrist as she looked at her watch, attempting to measure a pulse. Nicky tried to do the same for Booker, unconsciously chanting a Hail Mary under his breath.

Quynh stepped forward. “We need to get them back to the car. The heater will warm them up and help dry them off. Come on.”

Joe picked up Nile in his arms, cradling her head. Quynh threw Booker over her shoulders in a fireman’s carry. This time, they noticed neither the weight nor the cold. Their entire focus was on getting their friends home to warmth and safety.

“Joe, your coat,” Andy said as they got to the car. “It’s fleece. Take Nile’s ski jacket off and give her yours.”

Joe obeyed without hesitation, bundling her in his own winter gear and buckling her into the back seat. Meanwhile, Quynh and Nicky used the towels to dry off Booker’s snow coat as best as they could. Lykon climbed into the passenger seat, and Andy began to drive.

Thankfully, the storm didn’t get worse on their way back (though Joe seriously doubted it could get worse). By the time Andy pulled into their driveway, Nile and Booker were beginning to stir.

“Hey, easy now,” Lykon soothed, helping a dazed Booker out of the car. “Let’s get you inside. There we go, you’re okay. Just a little farther.”

Behind them, Nile leaned heavily on Quynh as she half-carried her up the porch steps. Joe paused, watching them enter.

“All okay?” Andy asked, placing a hand on his shoulder as the wind whipped the snow around them.

“The tree…” Joe muttered, fazed. “I dropped it somewhere. We were going to surprise Nile, and I-”

Andy turned him gently to face her, pulling his woolen beanie down to cover his ears.

“It’s alright, love,” she said softly, switching to Arabic. “She needs a different kind of comfort from us now. She and Booker both. Let’s go take care of them, okay?”

Joe nodded, following her into the warmth of their home.

A fire blazed happily in the hearth. Someone had expanded their futon and pulled it closer to the fireplace. Nile and Booker were seated on it now, wearing large, clean sweatpants - Nicky’s sweatpants, Joe noticed - and fuzzy Christmas sweaters. Quynh and Lykon were snuggled up on either side of them, feeding them something from a thermos flask and adjusting the heated blankets.

“Room for two more?” Andy grinned, curling up next to Quynh and gesturing at Joe to sit. “What’s that?” Joe asked, sliding under Lykon’s side of the blanket and pointing at the steaming drink in the thermos.

“I made apple cider earlier and left it in the instant pot,” Lykon replied. “It was still hot.”

Lykon held the drink to Nile’s lips. She took a large sip, sighing happily. Joe made a mental note to pour himself some cider if he ever got out from under this heated blanket.

Just then, Nicky walked out of the kitchen, balancing a large tray in his hands. “Soup time! Everyone sit up, let’s eat.”

Joe blinked, wondering how his husband had had the presence of mind to immediately go into the kitchen and make soup, of all things. He himself was still recovering from the last hour’s ordeal.

Nicky tutted disapprovingly. “Boss, get changed. Joe, you too. Why would you think it’s a good idea to get under an electric blanket in wet clothes?”

Andy grimaced, throwing her jacket and t-shirt on the floor and snuggling up to Quynh in just her bra. Quynh tugged Andy closer.

Nicky turned to Joe, raising an eyebrow. “Habibi?”

Joe pulled a face. “Do you have any sweatpants left for me?”

“Always.” Nicky ruffled Joe’s curls. “My gray university ones are in the dryer. They’ll still be warm if you hurry.”

Joe got up, returning two minutes later in the gray sweatpants and a black tank top he stole off of Andy’s dresser. He hastily dove back under Lykon’s heated blanket.

In the middle of the couch, swaddled in blankets and eating soup, Nile and Booker were looking much more alive. The color returned to their cheeks, intensifying as Nicky began to scold them.

“Booker, what the fuck were you thinking?” he demanded.

“I don’t know! You said to distract Nile, and she wanted to have a snowball fight. So I said yes!”

“Why didn’t you just go to the park?”

“I thought driving out to the mountain pass would buy you guys more time. It was a bad idea. I’m sorry.”

“You could have died, Book! Just because we’re immortal doesn’t mean we can play with our lives like that. Not to mention, you put Nile in danger!”

Quynh sat up, reaching for Nicky’s hands. She swiped her thumbs over his knuckles in a soothing gesture. “Hey, lay off him, would you? They’ve had a tough night.”

“But what if-”

“No what-ifs, Nicky. It’s alright. They’re safe. Now put the rest of that soup down and come here.”

Nicky sighed in secret gratitude. This was not a night he wanted to be left to follow his thoughts. “Fine.”

He squeezed onto the futon between Quynh and Nile, accepting the blanket Andy threw over him. He wrapped his arms around Nile, who snuggled closer.

“Nicky?” she mumbled after a moment.

“Hmm?”

“If you’re not still angry, can I ask you a question?”

Nicky pulled back to look at her. “Sorellina, I’m so sorry. I was never angry at you. Nor at Booker, really. Just a bit worried.”

“Yeah,” Joe piped up from the other end of the couch. “He gets mean when he’s scared.”

“I am not mean,” Nicky insisted. “Nile, what was it you wanted to ask?”

“Why did Booker say you wanted him to distract me? Distract me from what?”

Lykon laughed. “Should we tell her, Nicky, or do we plan to try again tomorrow?”

“We lost the tree, so I think we should just tell her,” Joe voted sleepily.

“You just don’t want to carry another tree,” Booker accused.

“Easy for you to say!” Quynh jumped in. “Next time, I’ll distract her, and you can walk a mile in the snow with plastic pine needles in your face.”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Andy said, lips twitching. “No more attempts. Jesus wasn’t actually born on this day, anyway. I was there.”

Nicky blinked at her, and then rapidly shook his head to clear it. He looked at Nile. “We were trying to surprise you with a Christmas party. Remember last Thursday, when you were telling us how your family celebrated it back home?”

“Yeah.”

“We wanted to recreate all the same traditions. We got a tree, and some ornaments, and stockings with your initials on it, and, uh…”

“Presents! And that Christmas music you like,” Joe added.

“Yes, and Nicky was going to make cookies shaped like reindeer,” Quynh said.

“Also,” Lykon pointed to a folded-up tripod in the corner, “we were going to take family photos in our sweaters and put them on postcards. Copley said we can’t send them to anyone, but we could still make some.”

Booker sighed. “Sorry I ruined it, Nile. I thought- wait, are you crying?!”

Nile sniffled, turning away from Booker to tuck her face under the blanket. “No.”

“Oh, honey,” Quynh cooed. We can still do it all tomorrow, if you want…”

“It’s not that,” Nile croaked. “It’s just- You guys did all that just to surprise me?”

“It’s nothing,” Nicky assured. “Well, it’s really nothing now, but even if everything had gone according to plan, it still wouldn’t have been any trouble. It’s your first Christmas with us, and we wanted it to be memorable.”

“You’re the best,” Nile said, voice choked with emotions. “All of you. And this is the best Christmas Eve ever. Thank you.”

“Hush,” Andy smirked. “In this house, we show gratitude by not dying unnecessarily.”

“Oh, that was all Booker’s fault,” Nile countered smoothly. “I would have been content with a snowball fight in the park.”

“Really loving the underside of this bus,” Booker muttered as the others laughed.

Over the next hour, the lighthearted conversation drifted into sleepy silence. By the time Nicky thought to ask who would turn off the lights, Joe was only half-pretending to be fast asleep.

[motherjoel]

in case (spencer reid x reader)

summary: you and spencer are each others forever, and spencer vowed to make this christmas your best yet.

a/n: the yard sale scene is based off of that moment in the office between michael and holly lol, i just thought it was so cute. also i am just so excited for christmas even though its months away so im sorry in advance. let me know what yall think!

wc: 3.1k

-

The LaMontagne-Jareau household was having their annual yard sale and as they do every year, they invited the team to sell anything they didn’t want anymore. You and Spencer had just moved in together a few weeks ago after dating for a year and you definitely had some things that you could get rid of, so you jumped at the opportunity to clean house. As you were packing some of your knick knacks into boxes, you noticed your boyfriend sitting in front of your shared bookshelf, closely examining its contents and placing the books into two piles. His brow furrowed when he placed another book into the smaller of the two stacks. You set down the lamp you were holding and walked over to a frustrated Spencer.

“You know Spence, you really don’t have to get rid of any of your books. I promise, I don’t need the shelf space,” you chuckled before examining the piles.

“I know, I just feel bad that you can't put any of your books up there. Besides, I’ve read everything anyway,” he said with a frustrated sigh. You patted him on the back before sorting through his “sell” pile. Picking up one of the hardcover books, you noticed it was one of your favorites. 

“‘The Complete Tales and Poems of Edgar Allen Poe’? You were getting rid of this?” you asked in slight shock.

“Oops, wrong pile,” he remarked, softly taking the book from your hands. “You remember the first time we read this together?” he asked, flipping his fingers through the pages. 

“Um, of course. Last year, before we were an item,” you recalled. “I was at your apartment and we ordered a pizza and opened a bottle of wine, which you proceeded to spill all over me,” you laughed, Spencer blushing profusely at the memory.

“And you were wearing white…” he trailed off.

“And I was wearing white. I know you have an eidetic memory but this must be the dirty side of it because I know full well you saw my bra through that shirt,” you nudged him teasingly.

“Hey, why do you think I asked you out in the first place?” he jokingly asked. You nudged him again and laughed. 

“So I changed into your ‘I Heart Vegas’ t-shirt and your FBI sweats and made you read to me as an apology,” you smiled, recalling the memory that you held near and dear. 

“And you’ve never looked better,” he laughed, pecking your lips. 

You set the books down and left him to his sorting, returning to your own work. Once the two of you were ready to go, you hauled the few boxes into your car and made the drive to JJ’s.

-

“My favorite lovebirds are here!” Penelope shouted, standing up from her seat on the lawn next to Morgan and making her way over to you and Spence. You gave her a quick hug.

“Hey Pen! I’m surprised to see you here, I know you’re pretty sentimental when it comes to your things,” you asked as she began to help you carry your things onto the lawn.

“Yeah, I’ve had firsthand experience with that when I accidentally knocked over her llama mug. The thing shattered and she refused to call me ‘chocolate thunder’ for days” Derek chimed in, standing to help you with the boxes.

“Okay, in my defense, I like to keep my sacred things sacred. I didn’t want my poor llama to face such violence!” she yelled, and you all laughed. “But you’re right, I’m just here to count the money,” she confessed, and you nodded. 

You all chatted about your days as you unpacked your boxes, the rest of the team showing up in the meantime. As you unpacked, you came across your old neon sign that said “boss bitch,” and you couldn’t help but laugh, drawing the attention of your friends. 

“Damn Y/N, I never pegged you as someone who’d have a sign like that,” Emily said, walking over to get a closer look.

“How come I’ve never seen that?” Spencer asked, observing the cheesy light.

“Gosh, i’ve had that since college. I found it in the back of my closet today and I don’t really have much of a use for it. I do love it though,” you remarked. Emily left you and Spencer alone after being distracted by Henry.

“You know, if you really like it, you can keep it. If there's a problem with the neon, I can take a look at it,” Spencer said, taking the sign from you.

“Oh no, it's not that. I guess it's just more meant for a ‘bachelorette’ pad,” you said.

“Oh okay. You can save it if you want, just in case,” he said softly. This got your attention as you looked up to him.

“In case? I don’t have an ‘in case’. Do you have an in case?” you asked, wondering if your boyfriend had any doubts about your move in.

“No, I don’t,” he said, as if he was just realizing how real the two of you were. He leaned down and your lips met his. You pulled away from him and continued setting up your table, a smile on your face the entire time.

-

A couple months had passed since the yard sale and you were absolutely loving the little life you had with Spencer. And as the weather got colder, it was nice to have someone to snuggle next to during the winter. Christmas was coming up and you couldn’t wait for Christmas Eve at the Rossi household. Dave had decided that this year, he would start a tradition for the team, a “night of the seven fishes,” and of course his famous Rossi pasta. Everyone was able to go- this was why you loved this team. You were all “misfits,” especially with your home life- these people had become your family and you theirs, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

You went Christmas shopping every day leading up to the fateful Rossi dinner. One of those days, Spencer came with you and the two of you had finished up pretty late- it was already dark out. Spencer offered to drive home, which was a little out of character, but you were too tired from your day that you didn’t question it. You noticed he was taking a different route then normal, however, so you decided to interject.

“My love, you’re going like the complete opposite direction of home,” you giggled.

“I know, I just thought we’d take a detour to look at the lights,” he said nervously. You just shrugged and went with it.

 You turned up the radio when you heard your favorite Christmas song start to play. Spencer began to sing along quietly, and you looked at him surprised- he never sang in front of you. He glanced at you and laughed, before continuing his serenade. You decided to join in, belting out the lyrics to Maria Carey’s “All I Want For Christmas is You,” turning to Spencer and singing to him on the “you” parts, earning a chuckle. 

After you had been driving for a bit, he stopped the car and stepped out. You didn’t recognize your surroundings, but it looked like you were in a park. It was decorated beautifully with countless Christmas lights and ornaments hanging from trees. It truly took your breath away. Before you knew it, Spencer was opening your door and offering his hand. You took it and stepped out, still in awe of your surroundings. While you were looking around, Spencer reached inside the car and cranked the radio up, just as Frank Sinatra’s “White Christmas” began to play. He walked in front of you and bowed his head, extending his hand. 

“May I have this dance?” he asked, feigning chivalry. You couldn’t help but giggle at the sight of the man in front of you, bundled in a jacket and a scarf, nose slightly red from the cold air.

“Of course, good sir,” you said with a terrible curtsy. Taking his hand, the two of you began to slow dance in the middle of the empty parking lot, snowflakes slowly falling down. 

“You’re amazing,” you told him, pressing a kiss to his cheek. 

“You missed,” he said, before leaning back down and giving you a firm kiss on the lips. You laughed into the kiss, wondering how you scored such an incredible boyfriend. You switched positions to get closer to him, your arms wrapped around his neck and his arms around your waist. You rested your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. The two of you continued to sway as the song changed to “Last Christmas” by Wham! You looked up at him again, missing his face. 

“Don’t get me wrong, I love this and I love you for this, but why are we doing this?” you asked, not wanting to ruin the moment. 

“I don’t know, actually. I had the thought when we were at the mall, that I just wanted to make this your best Christmas yet. And I know you love those cheesy Hallmark movies, so I figured this was the closest way to bring one of them to life for you,” he laughed and your heart melted. 

“Well, my previous statement still stands. You are amazing, Spencer Reid,” you told him, leaning in for another kiss. The two of you swayed for a few songs longer until you both decided that not even you could keep each other warm. The drive back to your shared apartment was pleasant as you closed your eyes, letting the Christmas music and the warm feeling of Spencer's hand on your thigh lull you to sleep.

-

“Babe can you zip me up?” you asked, putting in your earrings. Spencer adjusted his tie to his satisfaction and made his way over to you in front of the full body mirror to help you with your dress.

It was Christmas Eve and the two of you were getting dressed for the big night at the Rossi house. Spencer seemed a bit more nervous than usual, but you just chalked it up to his occasional social anxiety. Once he finished zipping you up he wrapped his arms around your midsection, kissing you on the cheek. The two of you stood, looking at your reflections, for a few moments. Spencer looked as handsome as ever in his nice sweater, and you were a show stopper in your dark red velvet mini dress. It was moments like these when you stopped to think about how lucky you are to have met him- he was your future and you were his. If only he would put a ring on it.

You pulled yourself from your loving daze and finished getting ready- Spencer was already finished so he was attached at your hip as you pulled on your heels and made some finishing touches to your makeup. 

“Ready to go?” he asked, seemingly antsy to get on the road. You giggled at his eagerness and nodded, grabbing your purse and heading out to the car.

On the drive there, you once again cranked up the Christmas music and serenaded him to All I Want For Christmas is You, which was quite a frequent play on the radio. You didn’t mind, however, because it was always a way to get him to blush. Mariah Carey had that effect on people. Before you knew it, you pulled up to the Rossi mansion. Most of the team must have been there already, as it was bustling with life and Christmas joy. The front of the house was completely decked out with lights and decorations- Dave spared no expense when it came to holiday decorating. The two of you made your way up to the door, presents in hand. Garcia was on the other end of the door, apparently a few eggnogs in.

“Oh my gosh, you guys are adorable!” she shouted. You and Spencer shared a knowing look. “Everyone, the lovebirds are here! And looking like the hottest couple since Ryan Reynolds and Blake Lively,” she gasped, taking in your dress and feeling the velvet. The confused look on Spencer’s face told you all you needed to know about his knowledge of pop culture, which was none. 

Garcia ushered the two of you inside to the living room area, where the rest of the team was settled. Everyone stood up for hugs and assisted you with carrying all of your presents to the tree, which was one of the biggest Christmas trees you had ever seen. You greeted Jack and Henry, who were playing with some toy cars under the tree. You made you way back to the team, and you noticed Spencer talking quietly to Derek and JJ- you decided to let them be and you made your way to the kitchen island to talk to Rossi as he cooked.

“Wow, everything looks so great!” you commented, observing the wide array of food along the table. 

“It better, I’ve been busting my ass for hours just so you kids could have a nice meal,” Rossi said, stirring one of the pots on the stove. You laughed at his fatherly comments as Emiy took the seat next to you.

“Don’t mind him, he’s just worried he might be on the naughty list,” Prentiss joked, finishing off her glass of wine and grabbing another bottle. 

“Hey, just because I’ve gotten a few divorces doesn’t mean i'm not a good man,” he said, pointing a jokingly accusatory finger towards Prentiss. She lifted her hands in defense and laughed. 

“I hear that,” said Derek, who had suddenly appeared in the kitchen. Spencer made his way to the chair on your other side, taking a seat. He nervously fidgeted for a bit, but when you rested a comforting hand on his thigh, his nerves seemed to calm. Soon after you poured yourself a glass of wine, Rossi announced that dinner was served. With a cheer, everyone made their way to the long table, Rossi and Hotch on both ends. You sat between Spencer and Emily, waiting to serve yourself. Once everyone was settled, Rossi stood holding his glass of wine.

“I would like to take a moment to thank you all for coming tonight. There are friends, and there is family. And, there are friends that become family. You are all my family, and I wouldn't want to spend my night of the seven fishes with anyone else. Dig in,” he toasted, and was greeted with a few “salut’s” and pats on the back. With that, you all began to serve yourselves and fill your plates and wine glasses. 

-

Once everyone was full from the delicious dinner spread, you all retired to the living room. Christmas music was playing through Rossi’s amazing sound system, and you were resting your sleepy head on Spencer's shoulder, his arm around you. It had been a perfect night, and you didn’t want it to end. As you were listening to JJ tell a story about Henry’s first Christmas, the song changed to “White Christmas” by Frank Sinatra, and you were flooded with the memory of you and Spencer dancing in the parking lot. You lifted your head from his chest and looked to see he was thinking the same thing.

“It’s our song,” you whispered with a sleepy smile. Spencer nodded and gave you a quick kiss before looking at Derek, who was mouthing “do it now!” As if it were perfect timing, JJ just finished her story and Spencer stood up, gathering the attention from the room. 

“Uh, if I could have everyone's attention, please,” he started, nervously clearing his throat. You looked up at him with stars in your eyes, and he returned it. “As many of you know, Y/N and I have been dating for awhile now, and we’ve been living together for a few months,” he began. You looked around the room and made eye contact with Derek, who shot you a wink. You returned focus to your nervous boyfriend, encouraging him with your eyes. 

“Living with her has made me realize that I don’t need an ‘in case.’ I normally always have a backup plan for when things go wrong, well, as an FBI agent that comes in handy,” he chuckled nervously. “But with Y/N, I never thought to make a backup plan. I’ve just known that she is my forever,” he turned to you. “Y/N, you are my forever, and I want to make it official- I want the world to know that you mean everything to me,” he shakily got onto one knee, earning a gasp from Garcia and a few tears from JJ. From his sweater pocket, he pulled out a tiny velvet box and opened it. You stood up, hands covering your mouth and tears welling in your eyes.

“Y/N, will you marry me?” he asked, a hopeful glint in his eyes. You were in shock. You almost forgot to answer until you heard a cough from Prentiss. 

“Yes, Spence! Yes yes of course!” you shouted, putting the ring on and he stood up as you jumped into his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist. You barely registered, the whooping cheers from the rest of the team, as everyone embraced each other. Tears were shed by most of them (Hotch tried his best to hold back). 

After a minute of spinning, Spencer let you down and you observed the ring. It was one of the most beautiful things you had ever seen. 

“I helped pick it out,” JJ told you and you pulled her into a hug and thanked her before embracing Spencer once again, a happy blush across his cheeks.

“Hey, look!” Garcia said, pointing above you and Spencer's heads. Looking up, you saw the mistletoe she was pointing at. 

“Did you know that the white berries on mistletoe are actually toxic to humans?” Spencer asked, receiving a few head shakes. You looked up at him in awe, always adoring his facts.

“Come here,” you said, pulling him down by his tie and giving him a passionate (but tasteful) kiss that was greeted with a chorus of “aww’s” and a few “ewwww’s” from Jack and Henry. You both laughed and continued to mingle with the team, showing off your rock. Spencer had made it a Christmas to remember, and you were so eternally grateful to have someone who loved you as much as you loved him.

[jordanstrophe]

Hey I was wondering how do you think Walter would celebrate Gabriel's birthday if at all?

Gah! Y-you.. You know I can't not write this!  You know too much   Of course he would celebrate his only child’s birthday!

CW: Whump, held captive, drugging slightly referenced, parental, possessive, creepy intimate whumper.

Masterlist

Gabriel scrubbed away at the pile of dishes. Even for just the two of them, they generate quite a lot somehow. Maybe if Walter didn't get a new cup for every single tea he drinks in a day there wouldn't be so much...

He froze with a gasp when he felt two arms slither around his waist and a chin settle on his shoulder.

"Darling! I- oh, this is going to sound embarrassing. But I realized I never asked... When is your birthday?" He murmured with shame.

Gabriel slowly lowered the plate in his hands as his face went pale.

It was tomorrow.

“In a few months.” Gabriel smiled, before quickly grabbed a cup, hoping if he appeared busy it would be the end of the conversation. 

“Gabriel.” 

He froze the second he heard Walter’s tone. 

He was in trouble. 

A hand wrapped around his chin and forced his head around. “Don’t ever lie to me again. Do you understand?” He hissed.

“I understand.” Sweat beamed on his brow, he didn’t have the bravery to make eye contact. Walter’s thumb traced his lips as Gabriel forced himself to be still.

“If I catch these lips lying to me again, I’ll either wash it out with soap, or into the basement you go until you learn to respect me, got it?”

“Yes sir!” Gabriel yelped. 

“Good boy... Now my dear! This is very important.” His hands cupped both his cheeks with a pinch.

“When is your birthday?” 

Gabriel took a deep breath. Walter really wasn’t kidding when he said he could catch anyone in a lie. 

“It's.. To-tomorrow.” He gulped.

“It’s to-" Walter repeated back in a stutter.His expression went pale and his eyes went wide. He was stuck frozen in time as Gabriel was starting to get worried about him.

“W-Walter?” 

“IT’S TOMORROW!?” He shrieked as Gabriel jumped. 

“Oh have mercy! My baby! You’re growing up so fast!” He squished his cheeks even more. “Ah! There’s so much to do, so little time! I have to bake a cake and set up some kind of decoration, you need presents!” He hollard.

“I-I-It’s fine! I don’t need anything, really! I never did anything big in the past anyway.” Gabriel folded his arms uncomfortably.

“What? You never-... You.” He fumbled over his words. 

Oh, the pressure was on. 

The next morning after Gabriel had made his bed and sorted his clothes, he found his bedroom door, locked.

“E-eh?” He murmured, jostling the door back and forth. “Walter!” He called. “I think the door is jammed!”

“It’s not jammed, it’s locked!” Walter called back from the other side.

“... What?!” Gabriel cried. “Why? What did I do?” He thought back to everything he had done that could have been bad that week. Was it because of the lie?!

“Nothing dear! Just stay there for the day, okay? There’s books and tea on your dresser.” He could hear Walter clambering with things in the living room. He cranked his head around, sure enough there was a stack of books and steaming tea with bread and honey on a plate. 

How did he even get that there without waking him up? He sighed as he collapsed back on his bed with a book. Today was going to be a boring day. 

Several hours passed as Gabriel let out a goan with his face pressed into the pages. 

*click* the door sounded behind him. His head slowly lifted his head as he glanced back waiting for Walter to burst through. 

But there was nothing but silence.

He crept up, his heart thumping in his chest as his fingers twitched reaching for the doorknob. Was he even allowed out? 

Nothing held the nob back as he pushed it open. His eyes glinted with light as he saw the living room dazzling with a warm gleam.

It wasn’t the traditional cheap streamers or neon balloons, nor burst of color or obnoxious music. 

Instead, there were beautiful crafted lanterns draped from the ceiling, a warm yellow glow filling the dark cabin. Dim fairy lights rounded the table in the center spotlighting a gorgeous three tier cake worthy of a wedding. A soft yet happy tune playing from the record player in the kitchen. 

His hands clutched nervously as his shirt collar as he wandered around in wonder. It was like a fairy tale! 

“Happy birthday, Gabriel.” A voice spoke behind him. He whirled around to find Walter with a smile plastered on his face leaning against the archway between the living room and kitchen.

“Do you like it?” He leaned his head against the wall.

“I-.. I love it!” He gasped, he couldn’t help but to bob up and down a little. Walter chuckled as he sat down at the couch, waving him over as Gabriel tucked himself beside him.

“It was a bit last-second, but I wanted you to have something nice. You deserve it.” He smiled, pressing a kiss to his temple. He handed him a perfectly wrapped box with reflective paper and a shiny ribbon bow. 

“I don’t understand how you made all of this so quickly, the cake too?” He asked, as Walter nodded with a smile. He was a phenomenal baker, after all. 

Gabriel looked down at the delightful looking box in his hands. As pretty and innocent as it looked, he couldn’t help but to be terrified of whatever continents it may contain. 

This was from Walter, after all.

His hands trembled as he pulled the ribbed, undoing the bow that peeled itself off the box. 

What if it was something to control him?

He broke the first tapped seal as he unfolded the wrapper.

What if it was something to hurt him?

He swallowed his fear as he ripped the box open, squeezing his eyes shut.

What if it was something cruel?  

His eyes fluttered open to see a bag of coffee grounds. 

“YES!” Gabriel shouted, raising the bag in his hands like it was Simba.

“Thank you! Thank you so so much!” He cried, cradling the coffee bag in his arms. 

“Oh! You-.... You’re welcome!” Walter stuttered. “I- I didn’t think you would like it that much! I know you weren’t a huge fan of the tea. You’re more of a coffee child.” Walter shrugged with a chuckle. 

Maybe if he didn’t drug him with tea the first time, he would have been more of a fan.

“Hey hey! You got one more, come sit back down.” Walter coaxed as Gabriel was still parading around the room. His excitement got killed, but he did as he was told. 

He set another thinly wrapped gift in his hands. Gabriel wasted no time delaying the inevitable as he tore through it. In his hands laid the newest edition of the book series he was reading! He didn’t even know the next book was out! 

He gasped as he quickly flipped through the pages to get a glance at some of the sketched art in the back. 

"Aa! One more thing.” Walter murmured, disappearing into the kitchen. Gabriel hardly paid attention, he was taking in every detail of the pictures and reading the descriptions. He stopped when he felt something soft get thrown over his shoulder, a warm fuzzy red blanket. He cranked his head up in confusion to look at Walter, standing behind him from the couch.

“I didn’t have enough paper to get it wrapped.” He smiled, ruffling his hair. 

“Alright! Who wants cake?” Walter asked, clapping his hands together. “Because I do.” He grumbled, taking a knife to cut a slice. He felt something press into his back as he gasped, glancing around to see Gabriel, slowly and nervously attempt to give him a hug without giving away the fact he was scared and trembling. 

“Thank you.” He whispered.

Walter bit his lip as he wiped away a tear. 

“Y-Your very welcome, son. Happy birthday.”

The whole rest of the day, Gabriel laid curled up on the couch wrapped in his blanket, a fresh coffee cup in hand with the book laying in front of him. His feet rocking back and forth in the air with content. 

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