#the ''turns out december...'' one makes me laugh because i only read one book

[tls123]

some 2023 stats i want to keep from storygraph <3 (and a quick "great reads from 2023" list)

i took screenshots from my phone so sorry for the quality lmao

great reads (in no particular order):

omniscient reader's viewpoint

devil venerable also wants to know

this is how you lose the time war

piranesi

our wives under the sea

even though i knew the end

honorable mentions (in no particular order):

the haunting of hill house

surviving romance

the hike

mist [unlimited]

[letsgoletsgetit08]

soft hours pt. 1 - christmas

how they would celebrate christmas with you (plus a suprise they have trouble keeping secret)

hyung line

warnings: mdni, christmas fluff, smut

pairings: park seonghwa x f!reader, kim hongjoong x f!reader, jeong yunho x f!reader, kang yeosang x f!reader

word count: 3.4k

author's note: I picture this as slightly aged up members and their significant others, still famous and working in the industry but with solo careers (hence the ability to take actual time off for themselves). But I did try to keep that part vague. I'm not religious but I grew up with Christmas, but feel free to sub in whatever winter holiday tickles your fancy. Maknae line coming soon!

likes, comments, and reblogs always welcome as long as you're not a minor!

Park Seonghwa: Park Seonghwa loves Christmas and even moreso, winter. He has gifts and activities planned every day of December leading up to Christmas Day. He takes you ice skating, sledding, to have your picture made with Santa - even though you're both definitely too old, and yes, some of the gifts are small, like your favorite candy, some are tokens to use for quality time with him, he’s a big fan of an advent calendar. But some of the gifts, the ones closer and on Christmas proper, are very nice. Matching bracelets with both of your birthstones, a purse you had your eye on that you mentioned in passing earlier that year.

The gifts are wonderful but your favorite part is the quality time you get to spend with him. Christmas Eve is spent in the matching pajamas he gifted you, White Christmas playing in the background while the two of you assemble the Lego set you gifted him a day early, sipping on spiked apple cider and taking breaks for long, tender make out sessions and short bursts of aggressive kisses and cuddle attacks.

You take a break from building the set to read your book, curled up behind him on the couch, and when you inevitably nod off, he only pouts for a minute when you don't reply to his excitement about finishing an elaborate section of the Lego set, turning to see you with your chin to your chest, book slipping out of your hand.

You stir only when he's kissing your forehead and urging you to go brush your teeth because, “You always regret it when you don't, my little rein-dear”. He looks at you expectantly when he makes the pun and you try not to laugh at his stupid joke but you can't help it when he's cheesing in anticipation. He stares at you for a while as you fall asleep next to him in bed, watching your eyelashes flutter, resisting the urge to keep kissing your cheeks, lest he disturb you. He's too excited for the morning to fall asleep fast, but watching you is a treat.

He's up at the crack of dawn with anticipation and resists waking you up for as long as he can until eventually, he caves, situating himself between your legs, pulling down your underwear and taking his sweet time as he eats you out, his mouth gentle and languid as he eases you into consciousness. It's one of your favorite ways to wake up and he saves it for special occasions. By the time you're fully awake, you're a whiny mess, begging for him until he gives in, too excited to start the day to make this one of his longer sessions. 

“Merry Christmas to me.” You joke sleepily as he pushes inside of you slowly. 

“Mmh your pussy is the best gift I could have asked for.” He replies as he bottoms out. 

It doesn't take long for either of you to finish, and it takes every fiber in his being to not dash out of the room immediately to go get coffee started and watch you open your final gift, but he exercises some self control, cuddling you and helping you back into your pants. You giggle at his urgency. 

His last present is an envelope containing a hand-written love letter and two plane tickets for a weekend together over New Years on Jeju Island. He's just glad you’ve yet to find the ring he's had hidden in his closet for three months now. He plans to propose as the clock strikes twelve into the new year. 

Kim Hongjoong: Hongjoong is oddly withholding, nervous, and antsy around two weeks before Christmas when you assume your gift got delivered. He's bad about spending way too much on you, despite swearing up and down that it's, “Just something small!” Fortunately for you, you can tell when he's lying because his eyes go shifty and he gets cagey and jumpy. He feels bad he can't spend as much time with you as he'd like around the holidays but when you bring him coffee to his studio on Christmas Eve, he surprises you with a song he's working on about how he'd like to spend the holidays with you. 

“My mind kept drifting to you while I was trying to work on something else so I had to get this out of my system before I could keep working on something else. It's kinda cheesy but-”

“Joongie, no.” You pull him in for a kiss, laughing at his dumbfounded face, “It's perfect, baby. You know, I would be perfectly happy if this was the only thing you got me for Christmas.” 

“Baby! No way.” He pulls you into his lap on the couch in his studio, “You're far too special to me for that. Plus, I really think you're going to love what I got you.”

“What did you get me!?” You try to catch him off guard. 

“I-” He almost fell for it, “Hey! I'm not telling.” He starts to tickle you as punishment, ending with the two of you nose to nose, limbs tangled, horizontal on the couch. 

“Can you give me one gift early then?” You let your hands wander between his thighs, sticking your bottom lip out and widening your eyes, knowing he has a hard time saying no when you pout and plead. 

“You’re going to end up keeping me here all night.” He pretends to resist, but he was already kissing down the column of your neck and reaching for the hem of your shirt. 

“Please, Joong.” You didn't know which thing you were pleading for at that point as he derobed you and worked you open with his fingers before taking you right there in his studio, both of you glad for the sound proof room. 

You convince him later to give his work a rest for the night and come home to sleep in a real bed. The next morning, you wake to him sitting by you on the bed, meticulously wrapped gift in his hands, nearly bouncing with anticipation. 

“Baby-” You blink your eyes open, knowing you look a hot mess from your slumber. 

“Merry Christmas!” He shoves the gift in your hands. 

You unwrap it painstakingly slowly just to watch him vibrate on the spot in his excitement. 

It's a beautiful custom winter coat from Balmain, lined with silk that has Hongjoong’s “No1LikeMe” printed on it, exactly in your style and you can tell even before trying it on that it will fit perfectly.

“So this is why you needed my measurements in March. Not because you would lose a bet with Wooyoung.” You laughed at his silly excuse. 

“Yeah, yeah, you caught me but DOYOULIKEIT?!” His words rushed out as you tackled him to the bed. 

“Kim Hongjoong. I love it.” You pepper his face with kisses, “Please never tell me how much you spent on this.” 

He knew this commentary was coming because he gave you a smarmy grin, “Actually! This was a personal favor. It's one of a kind. Olivier refused to let me pay a dime because, ‘Your girl keeps you fed and for that I owe her.’ His words.” 

“Ask me from my childhood if I ever thought I'd have personal favor with a designer from a high end brand and I'd laugh in your face.” You shook your head as you checked yourself out in the mirror. 

“Thank you so much, baby.” You cage him in on the bed. 

“Wait, wait. Check the breast pocket before you seduce me again.” He says this a bit breathless and you think you might kill him if he proposes to you while you wear one of his old t-shirts, your Christmas underwear, and the coat he just gifted you. Not to mention you still had bed hair and morning breath. 

Kill or kiss, they were only two letters different, and you ended up choosing the second as you stared at the ring of your dreams in your hand. 

“Hongjoong-” You were at a loss for words. 

“Please marry me, my love. My life won't be complete until you agree to be bound to me spoiling you and surprising you by the law.” 

“Yes!” You kiss him, still in disbelief, “Yes, Hongjoong. Of course I'll marry you.”

You shimmy his pants down enough to free him and move your underwear to the side, too excited to do more, and take him in one go, making love to him wearing both of his gifts. 

“This is embarrassing but I got you the exact same things.” You joke as the two of you cuddle.

“Oh, how embarrassing!” Hongjoong jokes back. He's impossible to buy for, always getting himself what he needs as he discovers a need for it. 

He doesn't expect you to have put together a binder full of photocards for your final gift to him. You put together a collection of photos of the two of you and some of just yourself. Some naughty ones of just yourself. “I was tired of being the only one with the collection.” 

“It’s perfect,” He nuzzles his nose to yours, “My fiancé is a genius gift giver.” 

Jeong Yunho: The man loves the holidays and this year is certainly no exception. He's so excited because he's convinced your families to celebrate together on Christmas Eve. You're more than a little suspicious with his hushed phone calls and the guilty puppy face he makes when you ask who called and he has to make up a lie. Twelve days before Christmas he surprises you with your first gift, a pre-paid facial appointment. The other days follow suit with a massage, hair appointment, nail appointment, things of that nature, culminating with shoes, a dress, jewelry, and a very nice set of lingerie that he wants you to wear on Christmas. It's beyond obvious at that point, but you suspend your disbelief for his sake, knowing how excited he is for this moment. 

Christmas Eve with your combined families goes better than you imagined it would. The food was good, the wine and conversation flowed, and mass hadn't even lasted that long. He waits until everyone is playing charades in the living room, and he brings you up with him after pretending to read his word on the slip of paper, holding up 4 fingers to indicate it was a four-word answer. He scans the room with his eyes before taking your left hand in his own and getting down on one knee.

“Will you marry me?” You ask as if you're still playing the game. 

“You're too good at this game.” He kisses your hand and pulls the ring box out of his pocket, “Sweetheart, I'm convinced you were created just for me. Falling in love with you over these years has been the greatest joy of my life and I never want to stop. Will you please do me the honor of marrying me?” 

“Yunho…” Tears escape your eyes at his words, “I would love nothing more. Yes, baby.” 

He drops the ring box after removing the ring and slides it onto your finger before standing, picking you up, and twirling you around to the tune of the applause of both of your families. 

Later that night, he unwraps you like the gift he considers you to be, taking off the clothes he bought for you piece by piece before turning you into a panting mess on his mattress as he insists on getting you off with his hands and mouth twice before he finally pushes inside of you, guiding your legs back with careful hands until you're practically bent and half and he’s able to fuck you deep like you like it, the head of his cock kissing your cervix every few strokes. 

“Fuck, I love when you take me like this, honey. I can’t wait to fuck a baby into you.”

“God, yes, Yunho-” You groan as he hits your sweet spot over and over. “Give me a few years, but we can pretend in the meantime.” 

“Mmh, I like the sound of that,” He grunts from the effort, “Gonna fuck you so full.”

“Everyone will see I'm yours.” You're about to fall apart around him. 

“All. Mine.” He punctuates his words with thrusts, “All. Fucking. Mine. Forever. Fuck, baby, come with me.” 

“Yunho!” You cry out as you finish, your orgasm prolonged by the feeling of him pumping you full of his seed.

Truth be told, at least in the heat of the moment, you wouldn't have cared at all had he been able to get you pregnant right then. But you knew as you fell asleep in his arms, how peaceful it was with just the two of you, you would be glad you had a few years with him as yours alone before bringing a whole other human being into the mix.

Kang Yeosang: Yeosang was not necessarily a fan of the holidays before he met you, but he adores them now. More than anything, he adores watching you enjoy them. He buys you matching berets and thinks he's so slick booking the two of you a room at a ski lodge in Austria the week of Christmas. Neither of you intend to ski, but Vienna goes all out for the holiday and he wants to spend several snow days shopping, eating, and sightseeing with you. He buys you anything you show a slight interest in, despite your protests, but his real gift is tucked safely in his luggage at the lodge. 

Two days into your trip, the two of you are exhausted and decide to spend the day around the ski village rather than in the city. You find Yeosang staring at you with hearts in his eyes more than usual that day. Normally you would blush and tell him to stop, but today, you allowed it. After all, you were doing the same thing. 

“Oh! This looks fun!” He holds up a Sanrio puzzle he found in the kid section. “I know it's for kids but-”

“We're getting it.” You smiled at how his face lit up. He was so impossible to not just completely adore and fawn over at all times.

“What if we go back to our room, order room service, and open this bad boy up?” He asks you, conspiratorial glint in his eye.

“This is why I love you.” You kiss the apple of his cheek. He's had to train himself not to move so you can't reach him when you try to kiss his face, due to years of acting like he hated it when his friends would do it. 

“I love you more, angel.” He grabs your hand and leads you over to check out, calling a slightly mispronounced “Bitteschön!” over his shoulder to the woman working the cash register on the way out. 

After dinner, spiked hot chocolates in hand, fireplace roaring in the hearth, the two of you work on the puzzle in comfortable silence. As much as you love talking to Yeosang and would pay good money to live inside his brain for a day, you cherish the fact that the two of you can have such peace in one another’s company. No compulsion to disturb the stillness. 

“Oh!” Yeosang looked up after a while, “Look, jagi. It's snowing!” 

“Really?!” You loved the snow. Well, you loved looking at the snow. 

“I wish it could snow inside. But not be cold.” Yeosang stood, pulling you to your feet and leading you over to the big bay window overlooking the powdery slopes.

“You know what? Yeah, that sounds ideal.” You chuckle, amused as ever at how his mind works. You tuck yourself under his arm and he picks up on your cue, pulling you securely to his side. 

Sure, it had been snowy the whole time you'd been there, but there was something magical about the big, fat flakes swirling in the air and glittering as they fell on the ground in the bright moonlight. 

“We'll probably be snowed in tomorrow.” Yeosang concludes as the two of you watch it accumulate, pulling you in front of himself so he could loop his arms around your waist and kiss the side of your neck.  

“I mean, we're at a ski resort-”

“Shh, babe. We're going to be snowed in tomorrow.” Yeosang says a little more firmly. 

You catch his drift, “Oh! Right. Yes. We'll definitely be snowed in tomorrow! Oh no! What will we do?” You humor him. 

“Don't worry, my beautiful girl, I'll make sure we're entertained all day while we're snowed in.” He mumbles in your ear, his voice low and carrying an unmistakable edge of desire on it.

“Mmh, like what?” You answer, breath hitching in your throat as his hands roam your body, one of them skimming the waistband of your pajama pants, the other finding a light but possessive position around your neck, “I can think of several things. But to start I'm going to fuck you against this window so we can watch the snow fall as I make you come over and over again on this cock.” 

“Fuck, Sangie-” You gasp as his hand blazes a trail to your core, knowing it will already be wet for him because he knows well what he does to you.

He's good to his word, dedicated as ever to your pleasure, stretching you around his girth, fingers on your clit as he makes you come the first time, heeding your request happily to move in front of the fire as you caught a chill with your bare face and nipples pressed to the cold window. 

He lays down one of the many plush blankets in front of the fireplace, ensuring you're comfortable before kissing down the slopes of your form, mouth landing between your legs, fingers taking over what his dick finished the first time, taking a more leisurely route to your release the second time, but quick to stuff you full again immediately afterwards for the third, words lost on both of you as pleasure rolls through your bodies in tandem. 

He washes your hair in the shower afterwards and you're nearly overwhelmed with love for the man you get to call yours. Perfect in every way. 

Both of you realize it's well past midnight as you cuddle together in bed, “Merry Christmas, precious.” Yeosang smiles at you, eyes once again full with a depth of love you had seen before but not as often as you had recently. 

“Merry Christmas, Sangie.” You return his gaze, hoping he knows just how much you mean it. 

“Marry me.” He blurts out, lost in your eyes, “Sorry, I had a whole thing planned and I have a ring, I swear-” 

You cut him off with a kiss, “Kang Yeosang.” You snicker, “Yes. God, yes, I'd be so happy to.” 

“Really?” He smiles so big it looks like it hurts his cheeks and it definitely hurts your heart with how pure and sweet he is. 

“Yes, baby, of course!” You kiss him again, unable to resist. 

The kiss deepens and your activities from earlier have an unprecedented encore, all but rendering your shower pointless as you fall apart repeatedly in one another's arms well into the early hours of the morning, watching the sunrise paint the ground pink, the exact shade, you note, of the birthmark by Yeosang’s eye. 

The two of you sleep late into the day. You're disoriented for a moment as Yeosang flies out of bed and begins rummaging through his luggage, finally finding what he sought and returning to bed with the ring box in hand. You had almost forgotten, or thought it was a dream, and you can't stop the tears as they fall when he fits the most beautiful ring you've ever seen onto your finger. 

“I'm yours. Forever. For as long as you'll have me, my love.” Yeosang’s deep voice rumbles through your bones, rearranging your neurotransmitter transporters to stop the reuptake of the norepinephrine, serotonin, and dopamine that was produced any time he spoke. 

“I want you forever, Yeosang.” 

And it was true. You were sure you were the happiest and luckiest person on earth to have earned the trust, love, and dedication of the man beside you. He felt the same way and he intended to show it to you every day for the rest of your life.

[buck-star]

His cookie | R.D

>> You're not the best baker, neither is Ransom. Luckily it doesn't matter because you're his favortie cookie anyway. <<

Pairing: BestFriend!Ransom Drysdale x BestFriend!Fem!Reader

Wordcount: 1.157 Words

Warnings: fluff, idiots in love, some allusion of sexual wording, petnames [princess, cookie]

Authors Note: Christmas themed oneshot, since | haven't written for Ransom in a while, here he is, our knitted hoodie cookie monster. Divider made by me.

Events: December Daze Challenge [baking together but neither know what you're doing l @the-slumberparty], Fluffy Winter Event [Best Friends to lovers | baking]

Masterlist | Ransom Drysdale Masterlist

“Ran, no— no, that— no,” you mumble, trying to hide your smile when Ransom holds up the butter. Or at least half of it, because he just dropped the other half in the eggs. “That doesn’t work like that now. They said three eggs—“

You hold up the book of recipes, showing it to Ransom so he can see the exact amount of ingredients you should add. Your finger slides over the side, pointing to where it’s written down. Your best friend leans over the counter to read where your finger lays, shaking his head slightly.

He’s still using half of the butter in his hands, grumbling. “But it also said butter and flour!” Ransom turns his head to look into the bowl with the eggs, flour, and half of the butter.

The two of you should definitely ask someone to help you or even make the cookies so you only had to eat them. But Ransom and you are both sure that you can make them yourself, maybe with some practice, but it should work to make some easy baking tasks.

“No— Yes, but no. It says that we need butter and flour, but first we need the eggs and—“ Ransom interrupts you when he smashes the butter down on the kitchen counter.

“Punch them.” He smirks, looking into the bowl where the flour is already mixed with the eggs and half of the butter. “Guess we need to pick out the eggs— or the flour and the butter?”

“We do not punch eggs, Ran,” you laugh, your stomach already hurting from all the laughing with your best friend. Maybe you’re not the best baker, but you could work as a comedian. Maybe as a comedian who bakes cookies or tries to bake them and mixes the ingredients before the egg is in its perfect shape. “They just need to be—“

“Hard. You know— I know other things that could be covered in white stuff and could be hard, too. You can cover it in flour and butter, but that would be messy,” Ransom explains, nodding down at his crotch. You chuckle and roll your eyes playfully at him.

“Now, be serious; we have to get the eggs fluffy, foamy, whatever you want to call it. You have to be able to take the bowl, hold it above your head, and turn it around without the egg spilling anywhere,” you say, walking around the corner to stand next to Ransom.

He grins at you, one of his calloused hands reaching out to pull the bowl closer, looking at the ingredients. For a moment he looks thoughtful, like he’s considering the options you have to make the egg fluffy, but knowing it doesn’t work with the other stuff in it already.

“So, how about we just throw it away and make the dough again or we buy cookies?” Ransom suggests, his blue eyes moving from the bowl with the ingredients to you. He studies you for a moment before his gaze slides back to the bowl. When you just look at him with a smirk on your lips, he grumbles and shakes his head. “What? You want me to separate the flour and butter instead?”

You laugh softly; the thought of him sitting down with bowls and trying to seperate just the flour, just the eggs, and the butter was pretty funny. Especially considering that the flour and eggs are already pretty mixed together. “As funny and entertaining as that would be, I think we should just try and make the dough without the eggs being like they want them. It should turn into dough and cookies anyway, I guess.”

“I love you, but I don't trust you with that anymore,” Ransom mumbles under his breath. He then nods and sighs softly, turning around to stand with his back against the counter. He looks thoughtful for a moment before his eyes roam over your face once again. “Okay, let's try to turn those not fluffy eggs into dough.”

With a soft chuckle, you nod toward the bowl, and Ransom growls low in his throat. He looks at you with narrowed eyes, but when you don't budge, he growls once again, rolling up the sleeves of his knitted sweater. He slowly reveals his muscular forearms with the prominent veins running along them.

“Drooling, aren't you, cookie? That's why you want me to touch this disgusting, slippery stuff here,” he says before kneading the ingredients to turn them into dough. You add a few more things every now and then, letting Ransom knead it the whole time while he mutters how wet and disgusting it feels to have the egg stuck around his fingers.

After a while, the two of you manage to get the dough done; it's finally in the oven, and you sit with your back against the counter to watch them growing in the warmth. In your hands you have a hot chocolate, or two, because Ransom is currently looking through some of the counters.

“What are you looking for?” You ask with a chuckle, watching your best friend intensely. He shakes his head, looking through another counter before he finds what he’s looking for. He turns back to you, hiding whatever it is behind his back while he sits down next to you in front of the oven.

“Close your eyes,” he mumbles, waiting for you to do as he says. You lean forward, placing the cups in front of you between your slightly spread legs, and close your eyes, turning your face toward him. “Now, open up, princess.”

You part your lips, listening to Ransom fumbling with some wrapping paper. A soft giggle escapes your lips as he sighs heavily. “Need help to open it?”

“No, now open up,” he says with a chuckle, bringing something to your lips. Before you have it completely in your mouth, you already know what it is — Ransom's favorite cookies. He pushes it halfway between your lips, bringing two of his fingers underneath your chin to lift it up and make you press your lips together.

Before you can say anything else, you feel Ransom's warm breath against your soft skin, and you. His lips are only inches away from yours as he brings his lips around the other half of the cookie.

“Wanted to do that for so long already, cookie,” he mumbles, biting as carefully as he can into the cookie until it's breaking and he can press his lips against yours. A soft sigh falls from your lips as you bring your hands around his neck to pull him closer. “Wanted to wait until our cookies were ready but couldn't focus on anything but you and your lips on mine, my princess. You're the sweetest, cookie.”

His lips press against yours once again, the cookies forgotten, because nothing tastes as sweet as you, and he would rather stop eating his cookies than stop kissing you.

Taglist: @rogersbarber @loki-laufeyson68 @etherealdisneyvillainness @winterschildren8 @pono-pura-vida @kimmie113080 @sergeantbarnessdoll @sebastianstanisahotmf @mercurial-chuckles @holylulusworld @randomawesomeperson102 @looking1016 @multiversefanfics @blackhawkfanatic @armystay89 add yourself.

[carolmunson]

wake up slow | barista!steve harrington

entry for my fall frenzy requests this request comes in from @superblysubpar: 'there's a scenario with bookstore / library date AND a dialogue prompt that says "what are you reading?"' with steve harrington summary: it's 1990. you're on the opening shift at the bookstore you work at, only to be surprised at a newcomer claiming to be up for an interview for the open barista position in the cafe at the back. sort of put off to start, it's no surprise when things start to bloom over time, and i'm not talking about coffee grounds. tl;dr carol writes a mini romcom.

tw: minors dni, there's nothing too out of whack in this one but i still don't want minors in here. reader is a little sassy but also like, pretty normal overall.

That damn key jams every time it rains -- doesn't help that you left your umbrella at home. Doesn't help that the 'light mist' turned into a heavy downpour the closer you made it to the book store. Doesn't help that you had to park a street over because of street cleaning and had to walk a block in the rain. Now the damn key.

"Come on," you grumble, jiggling an wiggling to no avail. Insert, r-insert, slight tilt to the right, jiggle, pull out a little, turn a little left and then -- nothing. You take the key out only for it to fall to the ground with a fairy like tinkling.

"Come -- the fuck -- on," you nearly growl under your breath while your coat gets heavier and heavier with rain, hood soaking through and dripping water onto your face. You bend down to get the key with a sigh meant for people with back pain, coming back up again to see the coffee bar manager on the other side of the glass door. He chuckles, salt and pepper beared thick over his chin and cheeks. Ruddy skin beams red even in the cool grey light of the morning, 30 years a butcher who pivoted into coffee when he turned fifty and had a really good knack for it.

"Easy morning?"

"Does it look like one, Carl?" you ask, stepping in when he opens the door. He laughs again, a hearty belly laugh that might as well have transported him into a Santa suit in December. "What happened to you?" he asks, following you into the back room where you start putting your stuff in your cubby. You switch out your wet sneakers and socks for the platform loafers and knee highs in your bag. Now that the fall weathers hit, it's all corduroy and knit sweaters, circle skirts and tall socks. If you're going to be on your fifth year working at an idyllic bookstore, you might as well look the part.

"Weather app lied, street cleaning, forgot an umbrella," you shrug, "Just another manic Monday, y'know?" "I know," he nods, "Gimme one second." Carl comes back with a white paper cup and black lid that makes you smile from the inside out, "Is that what I think it is?" "Isn't it always?" he smiles, "I got it ready the second I saw you on the schedule. Caramel latte, hint of cinnamon. Since its -- ya know, fall officially, I put a little maple in there, too." "You spoil me," you sigh, taking the cup from him and letting the warmth radiate through your hands.

"I do," he nods, "But, that latte was the last of my regular milk so I need to run out and grab a few gallons before we open up. You okay to be hangin' out by yourself?"

You nod, of course you're okay to be hanging out by yourself. You take the first sip, letting the caramel flood your tongue. The maple is a good addition. You're about to tell Carl to add this to the seasonal menu but he's already out the break room door with his coat before you can. You hear the jingle of the bell and the lock of the door and eventually the silence settling into the store around you.

You start to re-organize the window display which should've been done last night but 'last night you' said that 'this morning you' could handle it. You wish you could punch last night you in the face, but this is what you get for taking an assistant manager position.

You stack the back to school reads next to your knees where you're sat on them. The dust billows when you move them, making you sneeze with each turn of your head. You rub at your eyes, realizing at that very moment that the mascara you put on this morning has now definitely smudged -- you can't even find the emotional capacity to check considering the store opens in forty five minutes. You wipe down the display shelves, letting the oak gleam under the spot lights. The color is a warm reminder of the cozy moments to come the way that they do this time of year. As you start separating the 'cozy reads' from your 'spooky reads' in the pile on the other side of your knees you hear a knocking at the door --that's not very like Carl to forget his key.

You look over your shoulder, not seeing Carl at all, and if it is, he had some kind of Seventeen Again magic happen to him in that time at the store. You stand up, wiping off your knees and straightening your skirt before getting to the door where the rapping continues against the glass. "We aren't open yet!" you call out.

"M'here for Carl!" you hear, muffled through the panes. "For the barista spot?" you yell back. The guy nods under his hood, the rain picking up in heavy sheets. You sigh, unlocking the door and letting him in. "Carl's not here, he ran out to get some more milk but um, you're welcome to wait in the break room if you want," you explain, wiping a palm over another display through the main hallway and wiping the dust off on your hip. "Thanks," he says, hood coming down to reveal a head full of thick chestnut hair. A gold ring shines on the the hand that runs through it, looks like a family crest type, right on his middle finger.

"I'm Steve," he says with a smile, hand now outstretched to take yours. You look at it and then at him, finally taking in the sight before you. Prominent straight nose, warm amber eyes, lips that definitely use chapstick regularly. He has a nice smile, the kind you read about in the romance novels in the back of the store, the kind people write about.

You take his hand and introduce yourself, he has a business major handshake and you only know that because you dated a handful of them back in college. You try to stifle a chuckle but it comes out airily out of your nose.

"Something funny?" he asks when you both let go. "No, no, sorry, I just thought of something from the other day," you shake your head, "Don't worry about it." He nods, taking off his coat and closing his umbrella following your lead to the back, "It's a cute place."

"Yeah, it's nice in the morning," you nod, "I normally close but -- doing a favor for a key holder today; so you have the pleasure of seeing the troll of the store in her natural habitat."

"What?"

"Nothing -- nevermind," you shake your head, cheeks burning with a wave of embarrassment when you look back and notice that he's genuinely very handsome. You get to the break room, pointing out the spare cubby where he can hang his coat and umbrella. He's in a sweater you swear you've seen on the Cosby Show -- dark green and patterned, a perfect combination of colors against his skin. It cuffs at the wrists, you can see a sliver of his white t-shirt underneath at the collar, a whisper of a gold chain tucked beneath it.

"Yeah um," you start, feeling your heart start to patter in your chest when he takes a seat at the table by the cabinets, "You can just wait here. I'll let Carl know when he comes back."

"Okay," he smiles, "Thanks."

You nod again, heading into the employee bathroom to collect yourself for a moment -- seeing your reflection. You forgot you had rubbed your eyes, masacra smudged in black smears nearly down to your cheeks. "I look insane," you whisper in horror, "Oh my fucking god."

You cover your face for a moment, trying to hide yourself from the embarrassment racking your chest. Definitely looking like the troll of the store, you silently scream into your palms, another dramatic whisper of, "I should just fucking kill myself."

Despite the humiliation, you know it's funny. This would happen to you. This hot guy would come in when your mascaras a mess and your hair is fucked up from the rain, when the weather is bad and your tights have a run, when your allergies are rampant from the dust. Of course he would!

You wet a paper towel and do your best to wipe off the smudges, happy to look a little less insane after a dab of tinted lip balm makes it onto your lips and cheeks.

When you re-emerge he's fiddling with his CD player and his over ear headphones, working on a knot in the wire. You go back over to the counter and take a sip of your forgotten latte.

"What do you drink?" he asks.

"Carl makes it special for me, it's not on the menu," you tell him over the black plastic top before taking another sip. He grins, a soft nod moving his hair with him -- so it's like that. "I didn't ask if it was on the menu. I asked what you drink," he says, leaning back in the chair. His eyes lingering on you sends a zip up your spine, wondering if he's giving you a once over or not.

"It's a caramel latte with maple and cinnamon," you tell him. His confidence both intruiges and enrages you, both making you want to tell him to get out but also learn more about this hot guy that wants to be a barista with a Wall Street handshake, "So why do you wanna work here?"

"Is this the start of my interview?" he laughs.

"No, I'm just wondering," you shrug.

"I'm back in school about twenty minutes away," he says, "Did it for a little when I was in high school -- coffee, I mean. Ice cream shop after that, video store after that. Went to school, took a break, back in it. My dad thinks having jobs like this builds y'know -- character and whatever."

"Jobs like this?" you ask, jaw tensing with annoyance.

"Like, y'know, jobs with the people," he tries to explain, pink building on his cheeks when he realizes he might've said something shitty, "They're not like bad jobs, that's not what I mean -- I mean like, y'know -- not suits kind of jobs. Regular shit."

"Regular shit," you nod, biting back what you wanna say. That gold crest ring should've been enough to tip you off, but your next question is the ace in the hole, "What're you back in school for?"

"Getting my MBA."

Of course.

"Nice," you lie, fake smiling into your next sip -- the latte going cold as your insides when you come to the conclusion that he's just some hot grade A asshole, "Well, good luck."

"Thanks," he calls out while you make your way back to the floor, "I really like your name, by the way! It suits you."

You try not to let that compliment change your mind.

He gets the job, but you don't see him a lot. He opens an then goes to classes at night, you close most of the time -- only catching him really in the first hour of your shift and the last hour of his. You're both too busy to be finding time to talk; him with his mid-shift clean and you with your hourly sales goals and mid-day schedule re-adjustments.

But he does wave when you come in. He calls out your name when you bustle past the coffee counter and weave through the tables to get to where you need to go. It's nice of him, you guess, but the stain of him explaining that the job he's doing is just for regular people taints it for you. Maybe he thinks you're just some menial worker bee that he only knows for now, since his daddy probably has a job lined up for him once he pays through his masters degree.

Job with a suit where the bookstore will be a distant memory for him, whereas you're on a two year track to becoming the manager and likely future owner when the owners get too old to manage it. Job with a suit where he'll pass by the store and shake his head at 'how stupid it was', a 'can you believe people work there?' head toss to a coworker while he get a coffee somewhere else. Meanwhile, it's your entire life, and so are all the stories inside.

A few weeks pass and the days get a little colder, the nights starting earlier as they go. You have an opening shift that chills your bones, hugging your wool coat tight to your body while you fiddle with the key at the door, groaning at the tinkling of it hitting the concrete again.

"Rough morning?"

You look up to the door opening, seeing a pair clean white Nike Air Force 1's singaling who it is.

"It is now," you mumble, grabbing the key and bustling inside.

"Surprised to see you here," he says, following you to the back, "You're not on the schedule." "Last minute switch up, Rochelle has a christening," you say, hanging your coat in the cubby and switching out your sneakers for platfoms again.

"Oh, nice," he grins, "So why is it a rough morning? 'Cause I'm here?"

"Sorta kinda," you shrug, "Did you alread--"

"I got sales report from yesterday on the check out desk, yes," he crosses his arms, leaning against the door frame.

"And th--"

"And the inventory report, and before you ask, yes I checked that all the milk is in stock and that we aren't low on beans. I've been here for a month, honey, I know what I'm doing," he mutters.

"Gross," you pull a face at him over your shoulder, "Don't call me honey."

He shrugs with a smirk, "Rochelle likes it."

"Can you go skulk to your caffeine den and leave me alone?" you snap, "I'm trying to open a store, here."

"Skulk, huh?"

"Too big of a word for you, Harrington?"

"You're on fire this morning," he smiles, that smile they write about.

"I kinda like it," he adds before turning out of the door and back into the warm light of the store towards the coffee bar. You swallow while you watch him leave -- I kinda like it ringing in your ears and floating down to your chest where is settles in, cozy and kind.

The reports are where he said the would be, neat and organized like he was the manager and Carl was his employee. You normally spent at least thirty minutes trying to figure out what Carl had written in chicken scratch on the forms, but Steve's sharp and elegant script was easy to read and perfectly spaced. Annoying.

Even his signature was handsome.

After you get the registers counted and ready you file the forms and mark the reports so they'll be ready for your manager when they get back in store. You check the list of what needs to be done, the chilly late October air swooping in from the cracks under the door. Your face sours while you make your way over to the coffee bar in the back, seeing Steve set up the pastry delivery in the cases on the side.

"Did you come back here to yell at me about something?" he asks, focused on the task at hand, "I got all morning."

"You didn't turn the heat on," you cross your arms, "That's like, the first thing you're supposed to do."

He scoffs quietly, shaking his head, popping back up to lean on glass of the case, "Did you read your morning report or just sit there and admire my handwriting?"

"Excuse me?" you bite back.

"Heats fucked," he shrugs, ducking back down to finishing his display, "They're sending someone to take a look at it later today."

"Whatever," you grumble, turning on your heel to go dust the front shelving and reshelf the returns from yesterday.

"Hey," he calls out, waiting for you to turn around before he continues. Your eyes catch his amber ones, sparkling with a mischief reserved for school boys who are mean to the girls they like, "You look nice today."

You look him over, sucking in your cheeks to kill the smile growing on your lips. His navy sweater hugs a bit across his chest and shoulders, giving way to billow slightly over his midsection and arms. Kahki chinos cut just at his ankles so his sneakers don't even look stupid paired with the outfit, socks just the right height to look cool and not forced. Awful.

"Yeah, you too Harrington," you agree quietly before walking away; and while you killed the smile, he was able to catch that crease in your eyes, the twitch in your shoulders. You thought that was nice, he wonders if he can make you do that again.

You head over to the back of the cafe during your break, no windows near your designated 'break chair'. It's close enough to the fireplace that it always feels like a rainy day even when it's nice outside. Now that Carl started his shift he got your drink ready to go the moment you walked over.

"Well la-di-da," Steve cocks his head when Carl walks over to greet the customer at the register, rag in his hands wiping up the pick up counter, "Expert service and you're not even gonna tip?"

"Here's a tip: leave me alone when I'm on break," you bite. Why did he have to be so handsome? Slight pink on his cheeks from the heat of the espresso and coffee machines, the lights overhead. The heat finally works again and it's almost working too well from the small bead of sweat forming above his brow. He runs a big hand through his hair again, the same way he did when you first met him. You try to ingore the way his bicep bulges in his sleeve when his arm stretches.

His tongue runs over his teeth, settling between them for a second before looking straight at you, "Good one."

"That's what you get when you read books," you say sarcastically, "You should try it sometime."

"You should teach me," he leans over the counter, resting his chin on his palm, "Bet you're a great teacher."

You bite your tongue, pulling in your lips and squinting your eyes to keep the smile from brewing a second time. You pick up your mug and sip your latte while he crosses his arms over his chest. "Nothing this time?" he asks, waiting for you second blow. You shake your head no, occupying your mouth with the rim.

"No?" He asks, you shake your head again, somehow glued to the spot under his stare. He slings the rag over his shoulder, still looking at you. "Well I don't wanna keep you standing here," he teases, offering you a wink that is so soul crushingly charming you could just die, "Enjoy your break."

You've never turned around so quickly in your entire life.

The following week you take another opening shift, happy to settle into the quiet of the cafe now that the morning rush of moms, dads, students, and aspiring writers have cleared out. The fire crackles just right, the leather warmed up to your body heat while the book sucks you in further an further. Thirty minutes pass when you hear a shift infront of you, the subtle squeak of leather being sat in with a soft crunch.

"What're you reading?"

You peer over the top of the spine to see Steve sat in the chair across from you, legs open wide while he leans his forearms on his knees. His long fingers slide together, gold ring shining in the light again to remind you of who he is and where he comes from. As handsome as he is today in his black henley and white t-shirt combo you'll never quite forget the fact that some MBA bro is perched in front of you like a puppy with nowhere to go.

"Sound out the cover, that should tell you," you boredly mumble before tucking back into the chair. His fingers peak over the spine, pushing the book down from the top. He pulls the leather chintz closer to yours with ease -- of course he does.

"Or you could tell me," he says with a softness you weren't ready to hear. Your chest gets warm again, creeping up your neck to your cheeks.

"It's Pride and Prejudice."

"S'that your favorite book or something?" he asks, elbow driving into his thigh so he can rest his chin on his fist.

"One of them," you shrug, "I always read it this time of year, kind of fits the mood of the season."

"Hm," he nods, like he's really listening, "What's it about?"

"Basically," you start, thinking of a way to describe it in two sentences or less, "It's like -- hm -- it's about two people, a love story. One guy is some super rich asshole and he's a jerk because the girl isn't as rich and him. And the girl isn't from the same social standing so she's a jerk because she already assumes that he's a super rich asshole. Like...I don't know, idiots in love who are too stubborn to love each other."

"Hm," he nods again, grin splitting his face, "Interesting."

"What's your favorite book?" you ask, wanting to wipe that smug grin right off his face. His dumb handsome face with that perfect sloped nose, and eyes that look like they're looking directly into you.

"I don't have one," he shrugs.

"You have to have one," you balk, "Like, even if it's one you read in school or something." "Hmm," he sits back up, leaning back in the chair with his hands resting just under his chest.

"You have to know how to read to run a business," you shrug.

"I know how to read, honey," he laughs, "I just don't have a favorite book."

"At least try," you ecourage, albiet annoyed. He taps his fingers on his diaphragm, one knee bouncing while he thinks about it. His shirt rides up just a smidge in the back, revealing a sliver of skin you didn't think you'd ever see.

"Shel Silverstein," he says finally, "Where the Sidewalk Ends."

"You didn't strike me as a poetry guy," you say, closing your book over your finger to hold your place.

"My mom went through this poetry phase -- and I'm my mother's son, so I had a poetry phase with her," he shrugs, "We wore that book out, think we had to get a second copy cause the first one was just like -- destroyed."

"Well that's...you know," you lean your head from side to side, "That's nice. It's cute."

"You'd know, right?" he smiles, that god damn smile Shel would write about in a new book. You'd bring back book burning just to throw it in the flames after it was published. He gets up, disappearing behind you for a moment and reappearing with your favorite green mug. He gingerly places it on the side table next to you.

"Compliments of the chef," he says, presenting it like a Michelin star meal.

You look at it, a perfect pour -- the cream rosetta leaf striking against the warm brown espresso. You can smell the caramel and maple already wafting off it, cinnamon sprinkled delicately on top.

"Um, thanks," you say quietly, taking the mug to your lips. He looks down at you eagerly when you take a sip, waiting for your reaction.

"Did you do something to it?" you ask before you take one.

"No I'm just -- damn, come on. I'm excited to see you try it," he sighs, "I worked hard on it."

"Fine, fine," you murmur, letting the latte flood onto your tongue. Its -- regrettably -- one of the best iterations of you've had in a while. The perfect creaminess without being too milky, enough caramel and maple without being too sweet, the espresso's bitterness cuts the sugar in just the right way to make it smooth. He knows he did it right by the way you go for a second sip without saying anything.

"I did good?" he quirks a brow.

"You did good," you nod.

"Good," he smiles, tapping the top of your chair, "'Cause Carl's putting it on the menu starting in November."

"How come?" you ask into your third sip, the steam billowing over your cheeks.

Steve lets his eyes flicker over your face slowly, offering a half shrug, "I told him to."

November brings the first pre-season snow, not that it mattered now that your favorite drink was a regular menu item now. Caramel and maple always in stock, espresso machine always on first thing in the morning.

You open twice a week now, seeing Steve more often than not. Dropping your key became less common now that he was normally at the door when you'd get there, ready to let you in.

"Another great day, right?" he'd tease.

Now that the holidays were in full swing the bookstore was busier than ever -- sales, bundles, events. You even started carrying children's coloring books and crayons in the kid's section; a whole set up just for kids to sit and color while their parent's browsed.

The stress was getting to you, constantly checking and rechecking the end of day sales versus last year, wanting to make sure everything was on a steady incline with a nice cushion for the next. It helped that the cafe seemed to be absolutely climbing in numbers since September. More and more people wanted to spend time over there, and the more time they spent the more time they looked at books or started reading. It wasn't shocking to see people checking out at the counter with a second coffee and a new book or two in hand.

You don't want it to be true, but you're sure the new barista had a play in what makes so many people stick around. You'd see the way Steve would flirt when he took orders, how he's listen to them intently, make every customer feel like they were the only person in the room.

At least that's how he'd make you feel when he caught your gaze from over the shelving, helping find books for new patrons from the college nearby. You both started to wave at each other at each passing glance, each look caught by surprise, each accidental yearning stare.

Mid-November greets you with a bitter chill, the very early morning doesn't even have the decency to greet with you the rising sun. It'll be atleast another half hour until then.

For the first time in a long time you don't drop the key, pushing into the store with ease. You waste no time turning the heat on, making sure the radiators bled a bit before hand. You rub your hands together while they settle in, putting your coat away in the cubby and switching out your shoes in the break room.

Opening on a Saturday morning isn't common for you, but it's the first event you've planned by yourself. A very simple read-along story telling with some kids from the neighborhood and their parents. You collected three solid winter time reads: The Mitten, The Snowy Day, and A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving. A solid hour of reading while the parents could peruse, or sit and watch while their kids tuned into a book instead of cartoons on Nick Jr.

Once you've given yourself the onceover for the morning you feel more confident about the upcoming next few hours. Your knit tights fit snugly over your legs, a touch sheered out with the stretch over your thighs but the pleats in your plaid maroon skirt cover that just fine, hitting just above your knees -- still covered, still sensible. Still cute enough to snag a single dad if one were to show up.

Your feet stay tucked in a pair of worn in platform mary-janes stolen from your sister's New York City closet when you went to visit her over the summer. The chunky knit sweater over the whole ensemble completes you, a spitting image of a 'caught on the street' look you saw in a Seventeen magazine that you still get delivered to you despite being well past the age group.

You thrifted the sweater with Steve in mind, it looked like something he'd wear.

Anyway.

As you set up the 'reading rug' in the cafe area you hear the familar unlocking of the door. The sun finally starting to seep in in golden shards through the panes, leaving squares of light on the wood floors and carpets below.

"Hey Carl!" you call out, "I got everything up and running for you."

You hear the keys jingle but not his smoker's cough, not his heavy steps finding their way to the cafe area. Instead you look up to see Steve with his hands on his hips, watching you struggle to move the leather chintz to the back wall as your reading chair.

"Redecorating?" he asks, looking around the cafe. Under his shearling lined aviator jacket is an open hunter green flannel you wouldn't expect to see him in, his white t-shirt underneath hugs tights to his chest and stomach. You unfortunately noticed how great of a view that is for you.

"Um," you started, looking around the room and the dissaray you seem to have made without realizing, "Why are you here?"

"Same reason your here," he says, stepping forward to shoo you away from the chair, "I'm on the payroll."

"You don't work weekends," you say, crossing your arms over your chest while he lifts the chair over the rug with a soft grunt.

"I do today," he says with a slight strain, "Where do you want this?"

"Uh," you start, "Just right in the center against the wall so everyone can see me."

"Oh, so you're reading to the kids this morning?" he laughs to himself after putting the chair down. He wipes his hands off on each other, shrugging off the jacket and holding it in one arm, "Bitter Betty is gonna entertain the young minds of Main Street?"

"Bitter Betty, huh?" you challenge, following him into the back room, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know exactly what that's supposed to mean," he shakes his head.

"I am very sweet," you tell him, a serious edge to your voice, "There are so many customer reviews saying how sweet I am."

"Sure," he nods, putting his coat away in his cubby, "I bet there are; since y'know, you're selling them something."

"I'm not just nice when I'm selling something," you say softly, arms coming protectively across your chest. A frustration bubbles in your chest while you look at him, following him back out into the cafe so you can keep getting the place ready before the families start to show up, "You think you know everything."

"I don't," he shakes his head, smiling while he checks over the machines and gets the first pot of coffee started.

"Yeah, you do. You walked in here two months ago and swear you know everything," you huff, getting the cafe back to a place of organized coziness.

"Okay," he chuckles, "Whatever you say, boss."

"You're infuriating," you mumble under your breath.

"Got that caramel latte coming right up for you, by the way," he says warmly.

Your head turns to see him watching you, he smiles, "Maybe you're a little nicer after you've had a coffee."

You smile back, unable to stop it this time.

"So that's a yes, right?" he cocks his head, fingers drumming on the counter while he watches you. That Harringtom charm pumping out at full speed.

"Y-yeah," you nod, "Whatever. You gonna go chop down a tree, Harrington? What's with the flannel?"

He looks down at his shirt and then back up at you with a soft shake of his head, "I better hurry up and get that started for you."

The kids look up at you with starry eyes, their parents smiling along with their coffees, lattes, espressos, and pastries. The Mitten was a hit and The Snowy Day is so far showing up to be a great follow up.

You take your time to really point out the pictures and adding on to the story since all three of them are pretty short. However, you're finding that kids between two and five are pretty easy to entertain if you do enough counting and make enough sound effects. Maybe you should've been a kindergarten teacher -- or maybe not. Maybe you should just keep doing book events.

You're halfway through when you show the illustrations to the group again, listening to them ooh and ahh at all the snow.

"Did um -- Miss -- did you know -- it snowed? It snowed at my house," one of the older kids announces, arm straight up in the air.

"It snowed last week, Michael, that's right," his mom pipes up, "Daddy had to shovel outside."

"Has everyone else seen snow? Raise your hand if you've seen this much snow!" you announce in your perfect parentese, watching while the older kids and parents raise their hands. The two year olds don't really get it so they just sit there and laugh.

You look up at all the hands, an enthusiastic 'Wow!' coming out of your mouth -- but you barely hear it. Behind the hands are a set of warm amber eyes looking at you from the coffee bar, soft and gentle. Enthralled even. You swallow and lick your lips quickly before smiling, catching his smile back as you look back at the book to start again.

After each couple of pages you catch each other, the pink on his cheeks rising when he looks away -- pretending to be occupied with something else. Cleaning, organizing, resetting the espresso machine. He can tell you're flustered by the way you clear your throat whenever you start to read again.

After The Snowy Day you take a ten minute break so that the parents can take their kids to the bathroom or re-up their beverages. The tip jar is full to bursting because nobody knows how to make a single mom feel like Steve Harrington does; and husbands will pay anything to get him to leave their wives alone.

You reset your chair, making sure the books you're reading are on display for purchasing on the shelving close by in your Winter Children's Bundle for a discounted price. As the ten minutes closes up you feel a soft tap on your shoulder.

"Here," you turn around to Steve with a green mug in his hands, "It's just regular coffee this time, but -- figured you could use it."

You take it body first, reaching around for the handle only to feel his fingers brush against yours at the hand of. The soft touch isn't electric like it is in the books, it's like that but better. Warm like an oven, the gooey parts of you rising in a slow bake when you see him look down and turn away -- running that same hand through his hair on his way back to the counter.

"Thanks," you say over the chatter of parents and kids coming back to sit.

"Can I have something ready for you for your break?" he asks back.

"Surprise me," you shrug, sitting back on your chintz chair and taking the final book onto your lap. The kids cheer when they see Snoopy on the cover, a well loved favorite cartoon to finish off their morning. With the crack of the spine you can already smell the sales coming once this little event is over.

You work through your break, ringing up and helping customer after customer on easily one of the busiest Saturday's you've seen in a while. It normally doesn't get busy like this at least for another couple of weeks.

The stress of working through lunch barely matters though because your event was a bigger success than you could've hoped for -- logging in the notes for Rochelle that you should probably start doing this throughout the season just for good measure.

It's starting to get dark by the time your shift ends and the store closes -- early on Saturdays at a tight 4 PM. You let your sales girl go a little early, wanting to take the time to close up the store properly since you were the one who made it such a mess this morning. As you start to put the chairs back that had been moved from the cafe to the children's section you hear him, fingers tapping on the counter.

"You didn't come by for your break," he says, "And I put a lot of effort into that drink."

"Sorry, we can't all be flirting through our shifts like you can, Harrington," you snark with a grin, flipping the last chair over onto it's accompanied table.

"You don't have to clean up the coffee part of the store," he says, coming around with another mug in hand, "That's my job, y'know."

"I know," you say, "But I kind of fucked it up this morning so -- just doing my part."

"Well, here," he says, mug outstretched in his large hand, gold ring gleaming back at you, "For doing your part, I guess."

"You guess, huh?" you laugh lazily, taking it -- he places his fingers in a way that you have no choice but to touch them. You wonder if he did it on purpose, "What do you call this one?"

"'Surprise me'," he replies in a mocking drawl, flipping the rag over his shoulder again and leaning against the counter's edge. The first sip is unfortunately one of the most even temperatured hot drinks you've put past your lips.

"You're good at this," you blurt out, almost offended.

"Well don't look so upset about it."

"I am upset about it," you nod back over the lip of the mug, taking another sip. Mocha -- something. It's like hot chocolate and espresso but better, still caramel, still cinnamon, like a hug from your past but caffienated like your present.

"Consider me surprised," you nod, licking your lips again, "It's good -- it's um -- yeah. It's really good."

"Thanks," he smirks, "A few of the mom's thought so, too."

You let out a sigh through your teeth, rolling your eyes. He expected that, taking a step forward when your gaze comes back to center. You can smell the left over wraiths of his cologne and Old Spice deodorant, count the moles on his neck adorned with his hidden gold chain, see the hair on his forearms from his rolled up sleeves.

"You know something," he says quietly, "If I didn't know any better -- I'd think you like me."

"Like you?" you balk, eyes widening, "You wish."

He clicks his tongue when you get so defensive because it just proves him right. He crosses his arms with another step forward, head cocking to the side slightly while he sizes you up. Why did his creator need to make his forearms so beefy? So perfectly sculpted that you can't look at them without losing your train of thought? Stupid.

"I don't think I have to wish, honey," he says softly, Doc Martins creaking on the wooden floors, "I think...uh, I think I must allow you to tell me how ardently you admire and like me."

Your mouth falls open, staring at him with eyes as glassy at the kids who watched you read this morning.

"You -- no -- you read it?"

"Maybe," he says, another step forward, his arms bumping against your chest.

"Maybe?" you ask back, brow quirking.

"Yeah, maybe I did," he runs a hand through his hair, falling back away from his face to show off his sturdy brow bone, watching you with admiration down the slope of his nose.

He reaches down and takes the mug out of your hand with smooth finesse, arm long enough to reach back and place it on the counter behind him. When he leans back in place he's closer than before, toe to toe, nearly nose to nose.

"Maybe I bought it the day you told me about it," he shrugs, "Maybe I thought it was pretty close to something I had goin' on with a girl I know."

"A girl you know?" you challenge. You know exactly who he means, but it might be fun to hear him say it. "Yeah, sometimes I only see her like, an hour a day. But sometimes I get to watch her read on her break, sometimes I get to close with her on Saturdays," he explains warmly, the timbre of his voice deep against the crackling of the fire in the back corner of the cafe.

"This is the only Saturday you've closed with me," you counter, head tilting up slightly, close enough that the tip of your nose brushes his.

"Who said I was talking about you, honey?" he murmurs back, mischief in his eyes that are half hidden by his eyelids. You feel a puff of his breath over your top lip, still minty fresh like he just brushed his teeth.

"We both know you're talking about me," you smirk, self satisfied while his gaze flickers to your lips and back to your eyes. He steps at an angle, making you step back so you're against the pick up counter.

"So sure of yourself," he he scoffs quietly, leaning over you and getting into your space. Each hand coming to the side of you to lean on the granite, caging you in, "I like that in a pretty girl."

"Most do," you shrug matter of factly.

"Yeah," he nods, "Think that's what I like about you."

"Maybe that's what I like about you, too," you nearly whisper out.

"Maybe?" he asks, lower lip ghosting over yours. "Mayb--"

The hand he uses to run through his hair finds itself flat over the back of yours, sliding down to over your cheek and jaw where he keeps you angled just right. He closes the millimeters between you, warm lips catching yours in a kiss that feels like passion but a power play you want to match.

Your hands find their way to his shoulders, heads moving in soft tilts when you change angles. When you find yourself sat on the edge of the counter he uses the leverage to pull you close to him, hips between the fullness of your thighs.

His tongue skates over yours when it slides into your mouth, free hand ridding up the soft material of your tights, tips of his fingers inching under the hem of your skirt in an innocent tease.

Even the way he breathes through it is sexy, leaving you with a lingering guess of what he can do when he presses his lips against your neck. Tongue flitting and striping while he nearly nips a bruise onto your skin. You let out a gentle gasp, enough to admit defeat to him -- much to your chagrin. Steve comes back up to your lips to meet you with a few final deep kisses before you break apart.

He steps back once, the deep golden light of the sun setting cracks through the panes of the back window in the cafe, adoring him in a glow that shines of his hair and eyes. The kind of glow they write about, the kind of glow you read about.

You both take deep breaths, eyes hungry for each other -- unsure if you should go for more. He lingers, coming forward again to rest his hands on your thighs.

"I didn't read it," he confesses. "Pfffft. Why am I not surprised?" you huff, exasperated.

"But! But, but, but," he argues back, pecking you feverishly, "I had to go to like, five different places to find the movie from 1980 so -- I did actually put some effort into it."

"I love that one," you say back.

"I get points for that, right?" he asks expectantly.

"Yeah, fine. You're luck you're cute," you explain, "But you do definitely have to read it, at some point. If you wanna keep making out with me in the cafe after closing."

"Oh, absolutely," he grins, hand reaching to pull you in by the back of the neck for a final searing kiss, "You'll have to teach me, remember?"

You of course start closing together every single Saturday.

masterlist | fall frenzy | ko-fi

[sansaorgana]

— NEW MEMORIES

PAIRING — Erik Lehnsherr x fem!Mutant!Reader

SUMMARY — You're excited to celebrate holidays for the first time in a long time and you prepare the school for Christmas and Hanukkah but your husband's attitude differs, which leads to an argument. You accidentally reveal too soon that you're expecting, which ruins a surprise.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — As usual, Reader’s mutation is NOT specified. I checked online Hanukkah's date for 1973 and I hope it showed me right that it started December 19th, which means it would overlap with Christmas. I also tried not to specify if Reader would celebrate only Hanukkah with Erik or Christmas, too, so I hope it's not very exclusive, because I imagine that even if she is not a Christian or Jewish, she would still want to celebrate Hanukkah because of her husband. In this fic, Erik and Reader are both teachers at Xavier's School, probably after Days of Future Past happened but with less shitty ending for Erik 😂 I also wanted to write a part when the baby is born but I decided the time difference between the scenes would be too big so I'll just write another fic 😁

WARNINGS — mentions of parents' death (Reader's backstory is similar to Jean Grey's)

WORD COUNT — 2,220

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

NEW MEMORIES

December has never been your favourite time of the year. Most of the time it was a reminder that you weren’t normal, that your life wasn’t usual and that whatever all these people in Christmas commercials had was out of your reach.

But in 1973, for the first time in your life, you were actually excited. And since Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters was open again, you had plenty of people to share your excitement with. Lots of students volunteered to help you with decorating the place for the upcoming Christmas and Hanukkah celebrations. That year was one of those when the two of them overlapped.

After all your classes on Friday, you worked on yet another room of the house with the help of a few students. When you finished it was almost ten pm so you told them goodnight and went straight to your bedroom. Erik was already there, reading a history book and making notes.

“What is it about?” you asked him with a smile as you began to take off your clothes. You were so tired that you decided to take a shower in the morning and now just change into pajamas.

“Napoleonic wars,” your husband answered without looking up. “I have a feeling he might have been one of us.”

“Aren’t we, like, a product of this century?” you asked and put a nightgown on. “Come on, it’s late, let’s go to sleep,” you stood behind him and placed your hands on his shoulders.

“I’ve only just begun,” he explained. “I need these notes for Monday.”

When you managed to convince Erik to join you at school and teach history, he was unsure about it but he promised to give it a try. Just like you promised you would leave with him to live in peace somewhere else if he wouldn’t like the life at Charles’ school. But one semester later he was already very engaged in his work. Students respected him although you could see that they were also a bit scared of him, which was understandable.

“You’ve just begun?” you laughed a little.

“I was playing chess with Charles earlier,” Erik answered with a nod and hummed after underlining a line in the book.

“Is this why you’re so tense?” you asked as you slightly squeezed his stiff shoulders. “Did you lose?”

“I’m not tense,” he tried to shake you off.

“Talk to me, Erik. It’s not gonna work if you refuse to talk to me,” you reminded him sternly and he sighed before putting the pencil down and closing the book. “We need to be open about what is bothering us, you promised me we’d make it work this time,” you added.

“Yes, I know. But I don’t want to hurt your feelings,” Erik turned his head around to look at your face. You took a step back and furrowed your brows.

“What do you mean, Erik?” you asked.

He hesitated before saying anything and a million of possible scenarios started to come up to your mind.

“You don’t like it here?” You inquired. “You want us to move out?”

“No, it’s not about that… But…” Erik swallowed thickly and took a deep breath in. “I don’t like what you’re currently doing. I’m sorry. I don’t want to take your happiness out of it.”

“What am I currently doing?” you couldn’t understand what he was saying.

“Christmas and Hanukkah preparations,” he explained and you blinked a few times as your brain needed to process that information.

“Wait, what?!” you raised your voice a little. You didn’t want to scold him for expressing his feelings but you just couldn’t understand his reaction. “We’re going to celebrate for the first time in such a long time, and what’s more important, we’re not gonna be alone in this. We have our friends and students here. For the first time December is a positive time of the year to me… to us,” you tried to explain your point of view nervously. Erik was only looking at you and blinking slowly, patiently waiting for you to finish. “But I don’t do it for myself. I mostly am doing it for you, Erik. I wanted you to be happy, too. I wanted you to enjoy something that had been taken away from you a long time ago.”

“It reminds me of Hanukkahs with my parents,” he finally spoke up and you pursed your lips for a moment before opening your mouth again.

“So you don’t want to ever celebrate again?” you asked to be sure.

“No, I don’t think so,” he shook his head.

“Why can’t you let yourself be happy, why are you torturing yourself further? I don’t get it, I’m sorry,” you tried not to be irritated but you felt utterly disappointed. You sat on the edge of your bed and hid your face in your hands.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to be a killjoy.”

“Too late,” you murmured, fighting your tears back.

“I know that most of the students will be celebrating. I think I’ll just leave for a week somewhere. I have already discussed it with Charles and he said there are a few things I can do for him at that time,” Erik’s voice sounded casual like he was discussing business for you.

“You want to leave us during Christmas time?” you moved the hands off of your face and looked up at him angrily.

“(Y/N), please, I don’t want to fight about it…” Erik sighed. “Why can’t you just understand that I don’t want to…” he clenched his jaw and looked away. “I don’t want to create new memories like this because it would remove the ones I already have… with my mother.”

“And you think she wouldn’t want you to celebrate holidays with your new family? You don’t think she’d want you to be happy?” you stood up and looked down at him. You felt like a bitch but his explanation made you even angrier.

“I don’t know what she’d want because she’s dead!” He stood up and raised his voice.

“So, I won’t be able to celebrate ever?! Because you don’t want to create new memories?” you put your hands on your hips.

“I’m not forbidding you to celebrate.”

“I don’t want to celebrate without you, don’t you understand?!” you yelled and rolled your eyes. “And when our child is born, you won’t celebrate Hanukkah with them either?” you asked and then you closed your mouth quickly. Your anger made you reveal a few things too early.

“What child?” you could see Erik’s face becoming pale within a second. “(Y/N)?”

“It was supposed to be a Christmas surprise… But since you won’t even be here, I guess I can tell you now,” you shrugged your arms. “I’m pregnant,” you announced and turned around to avoid looking at his face. You were scared of his reaction.

You didn’t know how long it took him to finally do something. Was it a very long minute or was it ten minutes of a heavy silence between you two…?

“(Y/N), I’m sorry,” he finally whispered. Apologizing wasn’t his strong trait. You sensed him standing behind you and putting his hand on your shoulder shyly. You didn’t push him away but you didn’t lean back towards him as usual either. “For how long do you know?”

“Two weeks. It’s the second month,” you answered, your eyes focused on the wall in front of you as you tried to fight the tears back. “Are you even happy?” you dared to ask and your lower lip trembled because asking it out loud made your heart break.

You were trying to give him a normal life, to give him family and happiness, joy around Christmas time and all that. But he seemed to prefer to dwell on his past. You didn’t expect him to forget about his mother or about the pain, of course not. Your past wasn’t exactly pleasant either. But you wanted to be happy despite that, you wanted to have a family, you wanted a new start in life, another chance.

“Of course I am,” Erik answered and gently turned your body around so you would face him. However, you tried to avoid his eyes. “But I’m terrified,” he confessed.

“And you think I am not?” you looked up eventually as a few tears rolled down your cheeks. “I’m a monster, Erik. You think I’m not scared of hurting them by accident?” you asked.

When you were about twelve years old, you caused your parents’ death after having an argument with them. Your powers were out of control and you were locked in a mental institution for underage girls by people who didn’t understand that you weren’t crazy nor really dangerous. That was where you met the person who made you realize who you were and who was the only person there who wouldn’t treat you like a monster; although that was the word you could easily call him with. His name was Sebastian Shaw – but he introduced himself as Doctor John Smith. He was experimenting on you for a few years and although it had been a traumatic experience, you learnt how to control your mutation thanks to him. That was also how you met Erik – he found you not so long after you turned eighteen years old and left the institution. You started to work as a waitress and he was hunting for the man who had used your pain and suffering to perform experiments on you to deepen his knowledge about the various mutations. You decided to join Erik because your life didn’t seem to have any purpose anyway.

“You’re not a monster,” he sighed and pulled you closer to wrap his arms around you. With one of his hands he held the back of your head and caressed your hair. “You were just a child and now you’re older, you can control your powers. You’re extraordinary,” he whispered the words of comfort and kissed your forehead. “I’m not scared about you hurting our baby, I would never. I trust you with my life,” he assured you and it was comforting to hear that.

“Creating new memories doesn’t wipe out the old ones,” you cried out and pressed your face deeper into his chest. “Believe me, I wish it worked this way. I wish I could forget. I begged Charles to make me forget but he refused to do it to me,” you confessed and Erik raised your chin to make you look at him again. He hadn’t known about that before.

“You haven’t told me that,” his face was full of pain and worry.

“It was when you were in jail. I begged Charles to remove all the pain, the memory of my parents, the memory of Shaw… Even you. I begged him to even remove you from my head. But he told me I wouldn’t be myself any longer. He was right and I hate that. I hate that what I am is made of pain and suffering,” you sniffled. “That’s why I want to make good memories so badly, do you understand? I want to celebrate with you like we never have before. I want to laugh and feel safe. Like I belong somewhere, surrounded with friends and students, with my husband by my side and my baby growing inside of me. Do you understand my point of view now, Erik?” you bit on your trembling lip.

“Yes, my liebling, I do,” he nodded and leaned in to kiss your forehead and then the tip of your nose, which made you giggle through the tears, until eventually he pecked your lips.

“But I don’t want to force you either,” you sighed. Now, when all your emotions were finally out and you calmed yourself down, you decided there was no point in pushing him into something that would make him feel uncomfortable. “If you don’t want to celebrate, it’s alright. We both have our right to deal with whatever that has happened to us in our own ways. I’ll still have fun with all the rest, don’t worry about me,” you assured him.

“No, you were right. About me choosing to torture myself instead of allowing myself to enjoy my life,” Erik caressed your cheek and you cracked a smile. “And I can’t miss my child’s first Hanukkah either.”

“I want them to have a happy childhood,” you told him. “Like we never had.”

“I know. I do, too,” Erik placed his hand on your belly and caressed it gently, like it was made of glass. “I will protect them from everything, I promise. No human will hurt our baby.”

You smiled at him and cupped his face before leaning in to give him a proper kiss this time.

But you didn’t tell him that what you feared more than humans hurting your child was actually the child turning out to be perfectly normal. You were afraid that a man so prejudiced towards humans as your husband wouldn’t love his child fully if they weren’t a mutant. You couldn’t tell him that, though. You didn’t want to fight with him anymore that night. Instead, you just kissed him. After all, you’d still have a few years before you’d find out if the baby was a mutant or not.

MASTERLIST

[joeys-babe]

Joey B Imagines: Nonsense*

————————————————————————-

Summary: A coupon book you give Joe for Christmas as a joke turns into you doing something completely out of your comfort zone.

Warnings: Smut

Pairing: Joe Burrow x reader

Imagine universe: Everlasting Love

————————————————————————-

December 29, 2023

(y/n’s pov)

Sitting in bed, bored.

Seems like all I've been doing since I got back to Athens.

I missed Joe with every fiber of my being. I would give so much just to be able to reach out and touch his soft skin, his blonde locks, and feel the warmth his body emitted.

It was later in the night, ten o'clock.

Joe was probably asleep already, but he hadn't texted me yet saying goodnight.

Maybe he just got busy, I thought.

My thoughts started wandering. I was getting nervous about why Joe hadn't texted me all evening.

Almost as if he could read my mind before I got too worried, Joe texted me.

Hey, baby. You're prob asleep but I'm sorry I'm just getting to you now. I was over at Sam’s and my phone died. He was being a dick and wouldn't let me use his charger for some reason.

Anyways, goodnight, I love you.

I laughed slightly at his text, able to picture Sam arguing with Joe because he didn't want him using his charger.

I'm awake actually. Sam’s stupid btw, and I love you too.

Watching the bubbles pop up quickly, it was just a few seconds later when Joe texted back.

Since you're awake, wanna ft?

Sure!

Seconds later Joe’s name showed up on my screen and I immediately accepted the call.

I was met with Joe’s smiling face when the call connected. He was lying in bed shirtless, curls slightly wet while leaning against the headboard.

“Hi, baby.” - Joe grinned

Immediately, I recognized how deep his voice was. His voice generally dropped an octave when he was tired or aroused, and right now, I had a feeling it could be both.

“Hi, Joey. What are you up to?” - you

“Lying here in bed, thinking about you and how much I want you in this bed.” - Joe

After giggling at his admission, Joe continued.

“I was just thinking about your week here, and then I started thinking about sex… and that coupon book you gave me.” - Joe groaned

“You are insatiable, Joe.” - you giggled

“Fuck… I want you so bad right now.” - Joe

“Well, you're two hours away.” - you

“I swear, I'm always the horniest when you're away. It's like my dick’s betraying me.” - Joe

I absolutely snorted, laughing at his confession.

“I’m sorry it's like that and that I can't do anything to help you, baby.” - you

“Not your fault. I just can't stop thinking about you… and being inside of you.” - Joe

“If it makes you feel any better… I think about you all the time. Wish I could suck you off through Facetime.” - you giggled

“Shit, don't say that.” - Joe

“Why not?” - you grinned

“I’m getting super fucking hard right now. I'm just trynna wait for my hard-on to go away, but that's not possible if you keep saying things that make my dick twitch.” - Joe

“Boy, you're feeling very blunt tonight.” - you laughed

“Sorry… I know I get whiney when I'm horny. If I get too annoying just hang up.” - Joe

“You’re not being annoying. Not wrong about the whiney part, though. Like I said, if I could help you I would.” - you

Joe sat for a second, looking like he was deep in thought.

Out of nowhere, he got that ‘lightbulb!’ Look on his face and sat up on the bed with a grin.

“What if there was a way you could?” - Joe

“What are you saying?” - you

“Can I cash in a coupon virtually?” - Joe

I thought for a second. I mean, I didn't want to make him wait to use them just when I was in Cincinnati.

“Yeah, I guess.” - you

“Fuck yeah!” - Joe

Giggling at Joe as he fist-punched the air and did a little dance, I waited to see which one he wanted to use.

“Remember you can only use one a day.” - you

“Oh, I know. I only need one.” - Joe

“Which one do you want to cash in, baby?” - you

Joe flicked through the little booklet, trying to find the one he wanted.

“Ooo! I quote… extra sexy lap dance.” - Joe

I gave him a “what?” look but he only grinned devilishly. His tongue poked out as he bit down on it.

“Joe, how am I gonna give you a lap dance when you're two hours away?” - you laughed

“Just do it right here, on call.” - Joe

A few seconds of silence passed, his cheeky smile oddly convincing.

“Okay.” - you

“Yes!” - Joe yelled

“I’ll be right back, I have to change and grab my speaker.” - you

——

I turned my camera back on once everything was set up. I already had a routine planned for a song and everything, but doing this over the phone would be so different.

Having to essentially dance and grind on my bed, pretending it was Joe.

“You ready?” - you

“So fucking ready.” - Joe

Pressing play on Nonsense by Sabrina Carpenter, I immediately started moving my hips in the most sensual way possible.

Just pretend you're in a club, performing for Joe.

Hearing Joe make a strangled noise gave me more confidence, he's enjoying this.

A few seconds later, I straddled the bed and started paying attention to the phone.

“Can I touch myself? Please?” - Joe

“Go ahead.” - you purred

Joe slid his hand down his pants and immediately wrapped it around his hard length.

“Fuck.” - Joe grunted

He was trying to match the movement of my hips with the slow pumps of his hand.

I could tell he was conflicted between closing his eyes or not. With his eyes closed, he could easily pretend it was my hand jerking him off, but he wanted to watch me.

A minute in, a third of the way through the song, Joe was moaning loudly.

“You… are so… goddam pretty.” - Joe groaned

Just a few seconds later, Joe abruptly pulled his hand out of his pants, and I heard the waistband snap against his stomach.

“I have to stop, I can’t cum yet…” - Joe breathed heavily

I stopped moving around, but Joe didn't like that one bit.

“Not you! Keep going, baby!” - Joe

Moments passed as I watched Joe bite on his lower lip, slowly rubbing over his bulge with his palm.

“Joe, there's a minute left of the song. You might wanna start back up.” - you

So he did. Joe immediately moved his hand back down his pants and pumped his cock faster than before.

“Good Girl, baby.” - Joe moaned

Joe’s head fell back as his chest started heaving, sweat dancing over his bare torso.

“Fuck! I'm gonna cum!” - Joe

“Joe, please take your shorts off. I wanna watch you.” - you

He immediately did my bidding.

I watched Joe lift his hips and pull his shorts down with one hand, never once letting go of his erection.

Joe grabbed his phone and brought it closer to his cock to give me a better view of one of my favorite parts of him.

“See what… you fucking- do to me?” - Joe

He was right. The entire shaft was beet red as his tip was wet from the precum constantly leaking out.

I watched his cock throb one last time before a loud moan left Joe’s lips, and he shot his load onto his hand and stomach.

“Shit…” - Joe hissed

Joe dropped his phone face down onto the bed, his screen was pitch black but I could still hear soft whimpers in his breath.

Pausing my music and getting under the covers of my bed, I got comfortable before checking on Joe.

“You okay, Joey?” - you

“Mhm. I'm just cleanin’ up.” - Joe

“Okay.” - you hummed

A minute later, Joe crawled into bed and picked up his phone.

One thing I loved about Joe was his post-orgasm expression. He always had this delirious smile with tired, hooded eyes.

“You want me to dance while you get off?” - Joe

“Babe, I love you, but I don't think head bobbing and the airplane is gonna help me out much in that department.” - you laughed

“What about my get the gat dance?” - Joe

I snorted when Joe formed a gun with his hand and did a little move with it.

“If you have the cigar, then yes.” - you giggled

Joe went to say something but when he opened his mouth the only thing that came out was a yawn.

“Noted.” - Joe finally said when his yawn was over

We just sat there for a moment, staring at each other with smiles on our faces.

“You seem pretty tired, baby.” - you

“After that orgasm? Yes. I don't think I've ever come that hard from jerking off.” - Joe

“It’s my effect on you, huh?” - you joked

“For real.” - Joe yawned again

“Goodnig-” - you

“Wait… can we just stay on FaceTime? I wanna fall asleep with you.” - Joe

“Of course.” - you

Butterflies erupted in my stomach as Joe placed his phone on the pillow next to his, the one I was sleeping on last week.

“Goodnight, y/n. I love you.” - Joe

“Goodnight, Joe. I love you too.” - you

A few minutes passed by and I heard his light snores through my phone speaker, causing me to smile.

I thought about hanging up, but instead plugged my phone in on my nightstand.

Though I wouldn't physically be falling asleep next to Joe, I knew he was with me.

And with him is where I wanted to always be.

————————————————————————-

Authors note: I was super hyped to write this idk why 💀

Request for this fic; I kinda tweaked it but it's still generally the same idea!

Hope you enjoyed! 💕

[joocomics]

make my wish come true

from ─ ⋆ dinna’s holiday special 2023 *ੈ✩

pairings: jiseok x fem!reader

genre: smut wc: 5k

summary: tying up your boyfriend was the first thing on your christmas wish list, but it turned out to be more difficult than you thought

contains: dom!reader but nothing hardcore, brat tamer!reader, sensory deprivation, bondage & blindfold (m!rec), dirty talk, pet names, marking, overstimulation (m!rec), oral sex (m!rec), edging kink (m!rec), unprotected sex, creampie, light degradation kink (m!rec), praise kink

It’s the late morning of December 27th.

You’re laying in bed, pretending to read a book one of your colleagues got you for Christmas and listen to Jiseok’s footsteps around the apartment.

After doing his usual shower routine he decides to do the laundry that’s been piling up. He takes lazy steps dressed only in a pair of gray sweatpants. They hang loosely around his waist, tempting you to look up from the book you’re reading every time he walks pass the open door to your shared bedroom. You get a small quick glimpse of his half naked silhouette, but it’s enough to tease your imagination.

While waiting for him to return you lose more bits of your patience, as your ultimate christmas wish is still yet to be fulfilled. Are you being silly? You even put on a special cute outfit and makeup for the occasion, that as more minutes pass by, begin to feel a little too much.

After half an hour Jiseok appears in the bedroom finding you still laying on the bed against the multiple cushions. As he gets closer his expression becomes suspicious.

“Are you going out?”

“No, why?” You ask nonchalantly, gliding your bare feet on the sheets, aiming for a seductive action that’s not too obvious.

It seems to work, because Jiseok’s eyes begin to scan your body slowly and more carefully. The red color of your lips was about to put him in trance if it wasn’t for your revealing pajama set to catch his attention. It consists of tiny shorts that are clinging to your intimate parts, exposing the sides of your ass cheeks every time you move side to side, and a flimsy cropped top.

His eyes are taking literal bites from you, but he still doesn’t bring up what you want to hear. Did he forget?

“You did your makeup even though we’re staying home today, that’s all.” He shrugs his shoulders before crashing on the bed. “You look so pretty, baby.”

“Yeah, because I have an occasion.” You look for a way to give hints.

Jiseok runs his palm over your leg, as he rests on one side. His dark hair is still slightly wet, and a few strands are falling into his eyes.

“What is it?” He glances at you questionably, pushing fingers between your plush thighs. The tempting color on your lips pulls him in though, and he crawls up on top of you, propping himself up with two hands. “Damn, you’re one beautiful doll.”

The tip of his nose brushes yours as he leans for a kiss that you did not allow.

“You’re not ruining the makeup I just spent an hour on,” you say, gripping his jaw.

“Fine, I’ll just kiss you elsewhere.” He scoffs at your comment, but doesn’t move an inch away from you.

You take a deep breath, as your hands attach to his fit stomach, feeling its warmth from the shower. Satisfaction flutters inside you from the way his abs instantly tense.

The nice scent coming from his skin stimulates your senses, making you humm in pleasure while placing your mouth close to his ear.

“You promised to let me tie you up.”

“Oh, did I?” He exclaims in a fake surprise. “Cause I‘m pretty sure that you asked me to tie you up…”

“Stop messing around!”

“I’m not, you know my memory is brilliant. Why would I forget about something like that?

“You’re such a baby.” You attempt to shove him away, but his arms are locked on both sides of your body. “Just admit you’re scared that you’re gonna like it too much.”

Jiseok laughs straight away at your assumption. He breaks the eye contact by glancing at the wall in front of him, which means you succeeded at pushing his buttons.

“Nah, sweetheart, I just know you’re gonna give up the first five minutes begging me to fuck you.” He smirks, looking down at you again. “You know how good I make you feel, it’d be a waste of time.”

“That’s my Christmas wish, Jiseok! You promised.” You flutter at him with curled eyelashes, and you can see parts of him melting.

“Fine,” he sighs, pecking your cheek and falls on his back. “I’m curious to see what tricks you have under your sleeve.”

You watch him sprawl out on the mattress with his legs spread apart as if he’s making a snow angel. He stares at your shorts clinging to your butt, as you get off the bed, and immediately a part of him wants to take his words back.

“Tsk, get up.”

Jiseok lifts his head up when you come back, looking questionably at the chair you brought with yourself.

“You’re sitting here.” You state, putting the chair down in the middle of the room.

“On the chair? Why?”

“Because we fuck on the bed all the time, I want something new.”

“Wow…” Taken aback from the way you prepared for this, Jiseok stands up at the sight of the ropes in your hands. “You’re gonna turn out to be a lot dirtier than I expected you to be, doll.”

He doesn’t wait for you to tell him. He takes off his sweats and sits down. Even though he wasn’t really fond of the idea to get tied up for a long time now he finds himself getting excited. It’s entertaining to watch your attempts to boss him around.

“What other dirty fantasies are you hiding from me?” He smirks, smacking your ass as you walk behind him.

You guide his arms behind the chair making sure to use some force as a signal to not act so cocky.

“Hey,” he blurts out through a giggle. “Gentle, please. I need those.”

“To answer your question…“ You breathe in his ear, sending shivers down his spine. “I have many.”

“Are you serious?” He tries to take a peek at you.

“Don’t move,” you scold him, having a hard time tying his wrists.

“What are they?”

“I can’t come up with just one right now.” You grin when he lets out an irritated sigh. “Is it too tight?”

“No, it’s good.” He tests out the knot by pulling his hands.

When you walk around the chair to face him the view is so captivating. His half-hard on twitches in front of you, as you step closer.

“Come on, just one,” he whines, tilting his head to the side. “Tell me the first one that comes to mind.”

You already have a few fantasies on your mind, but seeing how his pleading eyes are getting darker while skimming down your body, you decide to take your time with answering.

You rest your hands on the back of the chair. Your top instantly opens on your neckline from the movement, revealing your bare breasts straight into Jiseok’s face. It’s so obvious he’s trying his best not to look inside. It’s what you want after all and he wants to tease you by not giving it to you right away.

Jiseok breathes in deeply, focusing his gaze on your face that’s just as appetising to him as your body.

“Do I turn you on, princess?” He breaks the silence, but you dismiss his flirtatious smile.

“I want to make a sex tape with you.” You lift one leg, separating his thighs. “So I can watch how you fuck me when you’re away.”

Jiseok’s lips release a surprised sound after he feels your knee pressing his soft ballsack.

“Will you let me film as you take it from behind? I want close ups of your ass, baby.”

His words send an instant rush into your veins, but you manage to sound composed.

“If you’re being a good boy today, why not?”

You move your hand down his chest, as your knee presses a little harder against his balls, taking the smirk off his face, then bring it up to find his neck. You melt hearing him humm after you wrap your fingers around his throat and finally kiss him passionately.

Jiseok’s plump lips deepen the act in seconds catching you off guard. You try to keep up with how quickly they move, making room to slide tongue only for it to dominate yours. He moans in your mouth, not stopping for a second, as spit begins to pour from both of you.

When you pull back gasping for air, you catch him smirking.

“You okay, doll? You look dizzy.”

With one strong swipe along his bottom lip you smudge the red stain from your lipstick. Your tongue clicks at his smug attitude.

“Close that naughty mouth, you brat, or I will put tape over it.”

You force him to look you in the eye, when you push his head back by pulling strands of his hair.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so mean…” He grunts in response. “I like it.”

You swallow the urge to smile at his reactions, and drop slowly on the ground to face his cock. It has shifted into a full erection.

Jiseok’s mouth opens from anticipation, but quickly shuts when your fingertips move from his thighs to his abdomen instead.

You watch his teeth bite on his lip, as you warm his shaft with your breathing. You’re so close you can lick his base if you just slightly drag out the tip of your tongue.

But you don’t.

“Have I told you how much I love your abs?” You coax, scratching his muscles.

“Just one million times in the last two days.”

He chuckles at your irritated reaction, but when you pinch his nipple hard, he quickly clenches his jaw.

“Baby, if you just wanna talk we can do it with my arms not tied to a chair you know.”

“I know, but now I’m in charge so I decide how these things will go.”

You take his erection in one hand, eyeing the glistening shreds of pre-cum, sliding down his length.

“You look turned on to me, baby. Are you enjoying being tied up?” You follow your question with slow tugs up and down.

“Fuckk, finally.” He groans in a hoarse voice, before speaking further. “I enjoy watching you get horny from me being tied up.”

Your fingers stop at the tip, as you gaze at the playful sparkles in his eyes. You slowly spread the sticky release all over his flushed head only to mix it nicely with your drop of spit.

Jiseok sighs, throwing his head back from the feel of your hand twisting around him, making him wetter and hard as a rock. Warm sensations build in his core, as he keeps on talking lifting his head up.

“How many times have you touched yourself to the thought of this, huh? Shit, I can only imagine how sexy you looked—“

Talking to you always gets him faster to his peak, so you drop his cock mid sentence.

His eyes bulge out from panick, as he curses under his breath. He doesn’t have time to react properly at the underwhelming way the pleasure fades when he sees you removing your top.

“Ahh, shit, baby, no..” He shakes his head, looking away.

“What is it?” You ask in an innocent voice. “I’ll be more comfortable if my clothes don’t get in the way.”

You lean your head against his thigh, running a finger up his twitching cock as if it’s the most fragile thing.

“So sensitive it’s cute.” You coo, forming a circle on that little vulnerable spot of his tip that drives him crazy.

“F-fuck, I don’t think I can do this.” He pules weakly, not losing sight of your finger going into your mouth to clean it from his essence.

“But we just started.” You say in a calm manner, before placing a kiss on the flesh of his inner thigh. You enjoy the possessive scarlet mark of your lipstick, the contrast against his skin arouses you.

“I know, baby, I know it’s just…” He speaks out loudmouthedly, but your lips moving higher up his body inevitably slow down his voice. “How am I supposed to just stay here when you’re naked in front of m-me… and… I can’t touch you? That’s so annoying, f-fuck.”

You continue with more red stains, as you listen to him getting more and more worked up under your mouth. His figure from relaxed becomes tense in a matter of seconds the more you pepper him with hungry kisses. Only his chest is moving up furiously, as you include your tongue, the brushing of your hardened nipples cover him with goosebumps, that add more to the pressure of his erection.

You don’t miss the opportunity to take one of his nipples between your teeth before sucking on the skin behind his earlobe. The sound of his hitched breathing while you create your bruises get you soaked.

“I’m not naked, I left my shorts on.”

That’s even worse, he thinks, but remains silent.

You lost count of how many times Jiseok has fucked you in different pairs of shorts since you’re together. The small sheer pieces of fabric you sleep in are one of the things that instantly cause him to grow a tent under the bedsheets.

“Although… they start to stick to my pussy a little,” you mumble, deciding to get rid of them too. “Wanna know why?”

Jiseok gulps when you lower yourself on his left thigh. His heart starts pounding when your naked hips begin to roll against him, letting the wetness from your folds coat his flesh.

“Why are you suddenly quiet, baby?”

The soft fabric of your pajama short caresses his skin, as you move them up and down his chest.

“Jesus, you’re driving me crazy,” he groans, watching you speed up your motions. “You’re so fucking wet, doll. You need me.”

He attaches his mouth to your shoulder, kissing your skin. The gentle sucking turns into a muffled growl when you joggle your shorts to tickle his erection.

“Right now I think you need me more,” you provoke him in order to hear him beg, but it’s more difficult to achieve than you expected.

“Ugh, baby…” he howls, as you shake the clothing marked from a visible wet patch in front of his face like a piece of candy. “Why are you playing me like that?” He tries to catch the shorts with his teeth, but you pull them away in time.

You haven’t stopped moving back and forth on his thigh, not trying to hide your soft moans at all, as your clit becomes highly stimulated.

Jiseok blinks up, admiring your face that’s contorted in pleasure, as you’re chasing quicker friction.

“Wanna taste you so bad.” He glances at the direction of your hand that holds the messy panties. Every time the fabric touches his skin he gets a rush as if it’s a cube of ice which makes his bones tremble. He tilts his chin up when you lift them close in his face, and already tries to get a sniff from them.

“Say please,” you demand.

Jiseok smirks, knowing this was coming.

“Please.” He states, not able to hold back a giggle in his throat.

“Not good enough.”

“Babyyy, come on..” He stomps on the floor with his feet. “Gimme a taste, pleasee.” His eyes concentrate on the piece of clothing drifting away only to drop on his cock.

He finds the flesh of your arm again - since he cannot use his hands he feels the desperate need to use his mouth in any way he possibly can. He does everything in his control to keep it cool when you grab on his girth through the fabric, then tug on it slowly.

“Holy shit, baby…” he groans, teeth digging into your skin. That definitely left a mark. “Free me and I’ll treat that pussy like it’s my last meal.” His eyes are hooded from lust and desperation, as the pool of arousal you leave on his leg is the only thing he can think about in that moment.

“We can both cum much quickly if you just listen, baby boy.” You explain, stroking his length in an irritating pace. “You run your mouth too much.”

Your fingers put more pressure around it, forcing him to pant for more. The friction against the wrapped fabric heats his vulnerable skin while you continue pumping.

“I’ll do better, princess.”

You felt a sudden jolt when his figure lurches up from the chair.

“I-I’ll.. fuck, faster, please…”

He bucks up his hips desperately needing a quicker pace from already being so close. The warm thrill overwhelms his core, and his brows draw together, as he focuses on the building rush.

“If I let you cum will you be a good boy for me, darling?”

“Y-Yesyesyes, I’m so fuckin’ hard, baby, I need t-to, p-please… make me… need to c-cum.”

As you concentrate on fisting him through your shorts, you cannot find a way, neither a reason to stop your hips from moving back and forth. For the first time he’s the one begging, and you can literally taste the sound of it on your tongue, sweet like honey, completely enough to get you off.

His body convulses under you, causing his voice to break during his incoherent babbling. The sight of his facial expressions becoming so much softer while his hot cum drench your shorts, turns you on to the point you hit your peak just seconds afterwards.

“Holy shit..” Jiseok looks at his lap, as his climax tones down. “This felt amazing.”

You stagger to your feet, kneeling again.

Bewildered, Jiseok’s brows draw together at you reapplying your red lipstick before uncovering his cock. The yearning look you give the mess he made of it makes him ache from the need to place his hands on your body.

“W-wait, what—” he stutters, balking at your tongue swiping his dirty length. His face scrunches up from your small kitten-like licks, picking up his cum. When you take it in your hand to close your scarlet lips around it, he wishes he could shrink away. “N-no, baby, don’t… stop it, ffuck—” The ragged sound, coming deep from the back of his throat melt away when you pull back, leaving his cock wet and clean. You mark the lower part of his shaft with a red kiss, before glancing up questionably at him.

“What did you say?” You raise a brow at him, cleaning the corner of your mouth.

“It hurts, doll,” he gazes up after you stand on your feet. “Give me a break first.”

As you go to your nighstand, searching for something, Jiseok finds your stained pajama shorts on the floor.

“Wanna put those dirty panties on and give me a spin, gorgeous?”

He’s still amused from his idea when you stand back in front of him, but his face stiffens when he spots the blindfold in your hand.

“Too bad you won’t see it.”

“Is it necessary?” he asks with a pout.

“It is, you lack some manners.”

“Thanks for disciplining me, baby.” Jiseok smirks. The gratitude sounds more like a threat. You could only imagine what he’d do to you after he gets off that chair.

Jiseok’s blood pressure goes up, not able to pinpoint in the darkness what you’re up to at all.

When he senses your warm breaths between his thighs he almost winces from his seat, as the feeling now comes to him so much stronger. His fingers form painful fists when he feels your soft lips wrapping around him - too soon, and too suddenly. You take him all the way, causing him to release a long deep wail.

“Jesus, p-please… don’t—” his legs shake around you, as his overstimulated tip hits the back of your throat. “T-too much… god—” His voice suddenly fades from the new wave of delight that begins to form while you bob your head up and down his erection, not leaving a single spot of flesh exposed. “Sooo hungry for my cock, aren’t you, doll? F-fuck gonna make me cum again..”

Your warm tongue twirls around him, saliva coats his abdomen and stiff balls, as you keep on sucking, trying not to mind his comments too much. However, they keep irritate you while also get you wet at the same time. How does he always manage to be so collected and demanding? Just when you thought you made him softer he overpowers you again.

You blink up at the marks on his exposed neck, watching his emphasised adam apple moving every time he swallows. Since he could not see or touch a thing, you make sure to produce variety of lewd, slurping, gagging noises that would help him visualise everything that’s happening. Even though half his face is covered you could notice he’s focusing on his hearing.

The quick, sloppy sucks of yours quickly leave Jiseok speechless. The burning thrill becomes three times more intense and takes over him so much quicker, that he ends up feeling like a dog in heat. It’s true what they say, about the rest of your senses feeling so much stronger when one of them is restricted.

He keeps his head tilted back, as his moans elevate towards the ceiling, leading you to think he’s close. They don’t sound heavy like earlier. They fly out of his mouth more high pitched in multiple fragile ahs and ohs.

That’s when your lips suck on his warm salty tip one last time before spitting out. The moment you pull back, Jiseok jerks his hips up, but ends up humping nothing.

“S-sshit, baby, what happened?” He yammers, panting. “Why did you stop? Whyy?!”

“Because…” You run your palms over his thighs, watching his bright red tip. “You will cum when I tell you to.”

“But I gotta cum now, babyy…” Jiseok mewls, thrusting hips up again over nothing. “I’m so fuckin’ close, your mouth got me hard as fuck.. don’t do this to me..”

While he whines your hand unintentionally goes between your legs, rubbing circles the second it got in contact with your clit. You didn’t realise how wet you are until your fingers instantly glide between your lips, getting all sticky.

“Baby?? You there?”

You humm in response, sliding fingers inside you. The moisture dripping from you is so much you didn’t need to do a lot for him to catch on.

“Are you seriously touching yourself?” He gasps in disbelief.

“I want to cum too, baby.” You begin to pump three fingers in and out of you, filling the room with wet squelching sounds.

“Goddamn it princess, don’t do that…” He tries unsuccessfully to dismiss your moans, that cause him to think of his own orgasm.

“Shut up,” you spit out, surprising even your own self, and grabbing his cock.

The sudden action causes him to hiss through gritted teeth. His lips turn into a smirk afterwards that follows by a husky groan when you begin to pump him in a relentless speed.

“Do you even deserve to cum? You’ve been acting like a brat since the minute you sat down on this chair.”

“A-ah, shit, shit, s-shit…” Jiseok furrows his brows, as he becomes shaky from your fist literally slamming down, smacking his body. “U-ugh, so’ close—“ His sentence fades, leaving only guttural sounds, coming from his dry throat.

“You can’t tell me what to do when I’m pulling the strings, baby, you hear me?”

You resume tugging harder, as you wait for Jiseok’s hanging mouth to make up an answer, but you realise he’s went almost completely silent.

“Answer me,” your fist freezes at his base, and Jiseok bursts, crying out.

The weight of his body falls forward, but only slightly because of the restraints. It takes some time for his desperate whimpers to whittle down, but you don’t let go of his cock. You hold to it tight, watching the leaky head twitch, as he struggles to regain his composure from having his second orgasm taken away.

“Maybe I should just leave you to hump the air like a total loser.”

Despite the comments, he’s still finding it hard to acknowledge the fact he’s not the one giving orders, so you give his cock a slap.

“F-ffuck, damn it, okay..” he grits his teeth again with frustration, which calls for another smack. “Baby, I hear you.. I-I do, I d-do.” He chokes on his words from defeat.

“I don’t like your tone.” You joggle his cock with a firm grasp.

“I’ll be good, p-promise. I promise. You just drive me nuts baby, can’t help it, s-sorry…”

The sudden vulnerability in him makes your heart skip a beat. His breathing still hasn’t calmed down yet, and he stumbles around his words, but that doesn’t mean each one of them doesn’t act like a fuel to your arousal.

“Come on, use me.” He calls to you quetly with such desire for a second it sounds like pleading.

You rub your thighs together, holding onto him as you listen to his erotically weakened state.

“Smack my cock as many times as you want, please. It’s yours.”

His words work like a charm, and you quickly get up, straddling his lap.

Jiseok humms in pleasure, as he feels your gentle arms around his shoulders, and instantly gets stunned when you take a seat on his poor erection. The need to release as soon as possible occupies every part of his foggy mind, and his lips form a pout before his jaw drops from your body practicing its first moves up and down.

“I know you’re trying hard to be good, so I will give you a little treat, darling.” You coo at him.

Jiseok grins, aimlessly looking left and right.

“I’ll take anything you give me, baby.”

He breathes out a soft whimper when you touch the back of his head, guiding his mouth to your breast.

“Here,” you say through a deep sigh, as you fill up all the way to your sweet spot, and it feels overwhelmingly good. “Suck to feel better.”

Jiseok’s tongue instantly makes a long stripe over your nipple, before drawing it into his mouth with his plump lips. The moaning you hear along with the noise coming from him sucking on your boob eagerly, causes you to tug on his hair from delight.

“Good boy,” you mewl, beginning to roll your hips in circles, as you slightly lift up from his length at the same time, before dropping all the way down. You admire every bit of his thickness and length, while exploring the size that’s stretching you out. After you get used to it, you start to ride him freely, and in a much quicker pace.

Jiseok cannot help, but get whimpery from the softness of your flesh, and the sweet thrill it awakes in him. Just now at this moment, as he flicks on your perked nipple with the tip of his tongue, before giving it a smooch, he realises how desperate he was to feel you; even if it’s just a small part of your body.

You pull him away by the hair, but he tugs on your nipple with teeth, like a puppy not wanting to let go of their bone.

He got just a small taste of you, but it was enough to get him drunk.

“See? You can be obedient too, baby.” You pinch his puffy bottom lip, just when he begins to hiss from the burning rush in his core. “Not a bratty loser anymore.”

“N-ngh, I want to—” he throws his head back, which instantly causes your fingers to wrap around his throat. “F-fuck, yeah, fuck me hard, baby. Use me, as you wish I’m all yours.”

“Are you?” Your free palm drops down his chest, nicely coloured from fresh bruises and red lipstick. His abs tense, as he releases needy pants one after another, that signal he’s getting closer.

“Y-yesyes, yes-s, fuck me hard,” he pleads for more, and after you grant his wish by speeding up your hips, he squirms, sobbing. “A-ahh, feels so good, I have to c-cum, p-please…”

“Why, baby? Can’t take it anymore?” You put more pressure around his neck, feeling his pulse against your palm. “Are you too hard for me?”

“Uhmm,” he gives a low, but drawed out whimper, before nodding poorly. “Wanna’ cum for my princess while she’s ruining my cock.”

“Sounds nice, but I’m not close yet..” you joke, and Jiseok sobs even harder at your words. His cockhead smashing up your cervix repeatedly makes him so woozy he cannot bring whatever’s left of his energy to add anything else.

“Kidding, baby,” you chuckle through a moan. “You can cum now.”

“Really? C-can I?” he asks with a ring of hope in his weak voice.

“Do it, cum for me pretty boy.”

You give in, as your own orgasm creeps up too close, making the stimulation difficult to contain.

Your peaks clashing stuns you both. As you hold tightly on Jiseok for support - one hand over his shoulders, and another around his throat, you use all your energy in riding your climax as hard as possible. You end up releasing a silent scream, while Jiseok on the other hand cries out into your mouth.

“H-holy sh—” his lips tremble vividly. “m’ cummin, I’m cummin’, c-cu—”

You swallow his hitched breaths, his whimpers and a few of his curses, when his head drops down defeated after you release your grip. He gasps for air, while he gets off his high and his mind barely clears up. His entire body sticks from sweat to the chair as it goes completely numb under your seated figure.

You move up to hover over his cock, feeling your mixed juices dripping out of your hole.

“You left so much cum in my pussy, baby.” You caress Jiseok’s cheek and he props his chin up even though he’s not able to look into your eyes yet. “Mmm, you really filled me up.”

“It’s because of you, princess.” He says in a quavering voice. “You turn me on so much.” His lips brush your jawline, giving it a lazy peck.

Jiseok expects to be untied now; to leave the chair and head to bed, but he soon finds out you have other plans when you begin to what feels like fucking his thick cum in and out of you, so excruciatingly.

“W-wait, wait, wait, b-baby… w-what ah—“ he stutters in panick, pulling his wrists apart, but the rope keeps them still.

“Shh, I know you can do better than that, baby.” You groan, holding onto his shoulders, as you bounce up and down in a steady pace, coating your thighs with his warm cum.

“P-please, please, I c-can’t…”

“Just one more,” you shut your eyes, throwing your head back, baffled from how amazing it feels despite cumming two times already.

“Don’t do t-this to me,” Jiseok sighs, and when you open your eyes you see a drop of tear sliding under the blindfold.

He was protesting, but not for long. His cock barely had time to soften, and as you work it in and out of you, it turned into a throbbing hard rock mess.

His angry tip keeps slipping out of you, and every time you use your fingers to push it back, Jiseok sees stars in the pitch black. It takes everything inside him to not burst out crying.

“I know you can give me one more, don’t you feel how hard you are for me..” You grunt, as you lift up, grazing your gummy walls only with his sensitive tip. This instantly makes his body react intensely, and he begins to convulse in the chair, as you keep gliding it in and out.

“I-I, I…” he begins, but cannot find the strength to form a sentence. He struggles to breath normally too, as you suck on his neck at the same time.

“What, baby? Talk to me.” Without removing your lips from his skin, you decide to take the blindfold off after you sense a new pair of tears dripping on your fingers as you cup his face.

Jiseok squeezes his eyes shut, not expecting that at all. After he adjusts to the sudden light you get to look into his dazed eyes, glossy from tears.

He’s amazed to see you’re really actually wearing the shorts you jerked him off with earlier.

“I… u-uhh.. gonna c-cum again..” he attempts to control his sobs, chewing on his trembling lip, that’s now stained with your lipstick too. “Let m-me, p-please..” He whimpers through shuddering breaths.

“Fill me up, sweetheart.”

“O-ohh, sh—“ Jiseok’s mouth hung wide open into a silent cry. His thighs shake uncontrollably, causing you to hold tight, so you don’t fall over.

His voice cracks into multiple tortured whimpers, as this climax hits times harder than the previous one. For a moment he feels like he’s about to pass out, not able to go through the sensation at all. He cries from pleasure while you just sit and watch; and feel yourself get sprayed with new shooting ropes of cum, that are so much they immediately start to spill out.

Jiseok stays still, speechless, unable to utter a word, as his chest rises furiously while he comes back to his senses. Very, very slowly.

You praise him with red kisses all over his face. They glisten from sweat and tears.

“You did so well my pretty boy.”

Jiseok keeps quiet for a while, until he lifts his chin up with a lazy smirk.

“I’ll get you back for this.”

! please do not repost, copy or translate my works

! please keep in mind that english is not my first language. i apologise in advance for any mistakes i’ve might missed

[groceryreceiptss]

𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 | j.p.

james potter x reader | word count : 7.2k | requested

↳ part one / part two ───✧₊∘

summary : james always said that you were his best friend and you always said that he was yours. but you didn't realize that the meaning of the words had changed for you until it was a week before the yule ball and you two were walking through the snow covered streets of hogsmeade (reader's pov)

contains : my writing (warning lmao), pretty cheesy. (childhood) best friends to lovers!! flufff, herbal tea slander (sorry if you like it), lots of out-of-place references (like pjo and spiderman, i'm SORRY, i can't help it). i’m never sure on what to put in here to be honest so just let me know!

a/n : soo i might have gone a biiiiit overboard and make it a two part! this one takes place in hogsmeade (mostly), told from reader's point of view. i'm planning for the second one to be from james' point of view and for it to take place during the yule ball (no promises on when i’m going to finish it though TT )

credits : lovelyy dividers by @cafekitsune, pins i used (1) (2) (3)

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The castle seemed to have its own separate life in December. Snow, trees, warm hearth, lights, candles, sweaters, hot drinks, and not to mention the food. The students always seemed to be reinvigorated by the time this month came too. Excited whispers floated the hallways in strings of exclamations.

This year, they were way louder than usual though. And the reason for it was visible in every room. The vibrant yet elegant posters, the talks of elaborate plans, scenes of people asking and being asked (and the cheers that would follow it), conversations of suits and dresses, and absolutely nonchalant talks of dates and hopes.The Yule Ball.

This extravagance of the event only happened once in every four years, so of course, everyone was excited. Nothing could be more thrilling than a chance to live out your silly teenage dreams and be like one in the movies.

You loved it too. The smiles, the laughter, the gossip, the drama. It was fun, though you weren't expecting much for yourself. You weren't being a downer or whatever (which was what James would definitely tell you), it was just that, if truth be told, you had learned not to hope too much in anything. Retrospective had taught you a long time ago that it would only tarnish the joy out of a perfectly good moment. 

Today was a festive Saturday morning. Talks of the ball were echoing off the walls in a more persistent way than ever. Understandable for they only had a week left before the festivities, anxiety and anticipation were sure rising.

You were just about to enter The Great Hall, the comforting smell of good breakfast already reached your nose, before someone suddenly threw their arms around you from the back, throwing you off balance a bit, his warmth enveloping you. James Potter.

Funny how someone's laugh could be so familiar to one's ears.

"How are you in this fine lovely morning?" The bespectacled boy greeted you as you turned around, eyes meeting his, your lips turned upward mirroring his smile. He really did have the most annoying charming smile. It was infectious.

"Freezing to death," you responded, slinging his arm around your shoulders as both of you walked the rest of the way to the hall. "Where are the others?”

"Already there," he scoffed, and continued on dramatically, "They left me to fend for myself!"

"To be fair, you are a heavy sleeper."

"You're one to talk," he grinned at you, "Why do you think both of us are the last ones to arrive?"

And he hit it right. You straightened up, ready to defend yourself. "Well, look–"

But he was way ahead of you. "Good book?" he smiled knowingly. And right again.

"So good," You nodded your head vigorously. "You should read it sometimes. I'll add that to your list." You waved your hand away casually, as if to say ‘done and done.’

"I look forward to reading it."

You smiled up at him, agreed. "Good, because you must." And before you could stop it, you went on telling him all about your reading from last night.

He didn't seem to mind, he never did. In fact, he always seemed to be interested in everything you had to say, so you continued. It had become a routine. You told him about a book he had never heard of, he told him about a match you had never watched.

James Potter was your best friend. Always had and always would be. The two of you had known each other since you were five and knew nothing and everything. Both of your parents had been best friends and it just progressed naturally. They would often spend the holidays and breaks together and so his house was yours as much as yours was his. 

And when both of you got the Hogwarts letter at the age of eleven and were sorted into Gryffindor, it was inevitable that you grew even closer. Everything about him had become so familiar now. It was like you knew him at the back of your hand.

His favorite color, his favorite food, his favorite song. How his eyes brightened a bit when he laughed. The dimples that came with his smile. How he would bite his lip a bit when McGonagall caught him and his friends in their mischievous schemes, or when he was thinking of a lie to tell her.

How he liked to put his arm around your shoulder, or tucked it in the inside of your arm every time he saw you. His glasses that were always lopsided, and his hair that was always tousled. Just like it was right now.

Both of you sat down in front of Remus and Sirius, who were laughing about something. Crisp toast, bacon, and eggs on the plates completely abandoned. You eyed them closely and wondered how two people could be so oblivious to one another when they were sitting that close to each other. And look at Remus! He was almost red.

If only you did not have a sense of decency and could have it in you to interfere with these two, then maybe, just maybe, they'd finally admit their feelings and go to the Yule Ball together.

"Where's Wormtail?" James asked them, getting himself a plate of eggs and sausages. You decided to grab some toasts, marmalade, and some eggs.

"Don't know," Sirius shrugged. "Probably hatching a plan to ask Jane out."

"Doesn't she already have a date?" You asked him, confusion on your face.

"Not sure," Remus chimed in, "it's hard to keep track these days." True that.

The four of you talked some more. You and James tried multiple times trying to get these two to talk about their dates to the ball—or more like the lack of it—and did a bait and switch. And you were good at it, but boy were they better.

After their plates had emptied, Remus said that he was going to make a quick run at the library and Sirius, very subtly and casually, offered that he could come too because he was "bored." You and James could barely contain your smiles until they disappeared out of view.

He grabbed a bit of your toast, put some of his fruits on your plate in exchange for it, and asked, "So... what about you?"

"What about me?"

"Who are you going with to the dance?"

"Oh," you pondered a bit, biting one of the strawberries. "I don't know. I'm thinking of going by myself, maybe? I think it'd be fun."

"No one has asked you yet?" He asked, surprised.

You let out a laugh at his expression. "Don't pretend to be shocked now, James. I don't exactly have a line of people waiting to ask me out."

"People here have bad tastes then.” He concluded. 

You shrugged, “I don’t mind. It’d be a pity spending the night with some stranger I don’t know, or even like, anyway. What about you and Lily?”

James' die-hard affection for the red-head girl was never a secret. The entire school knew it. It had been going on since first year and you doubted it would ever stop.

The way he always talked about her — with so much fondness and care. It was, the way she smiled, the way she laughed, the way she talked. But you noticed the way he looked at her too. It was like he fell in love every time he laid his eyes on her.

You figured that he was going to at least work up the courage to ask her out to the ball, even if it would only end up in vain, but no news from him so far. It was weird, like a sudden change of the weather. You had had to endure listening to him for what seemed like ages after Lily talked to him for the first time. And then another and another and another about his failed attempts at asking her out. What's with the quiet and silence now?

Was the fact that she turned him down again for the dance hurt him that bad? Oh, now you felt guilty for asking.

What was so strange, though, was that there wasn't sadness on his face now. No hidden pain or aches. Instead, he said, ever so casually, your toast in his hand "I haven't asked her yet."

You were taken aback, shocked, eyebrows scrunched up. "What?"

James' fruitless efforts with Lily was also very much widely known, but he was never ashamed of it. You couldn't remember the last time he passed an opportunity to confess his— as he said it —undying love for her.

"What, what do you mean you haven't asked her out?" You sputtered out.

He chuckled nervously at your response, raising his hands in trying to calm you down. "Is it really that surprising?"

"Considering the fact that you, James Potter, have been after her for like forever and never faltered in his efforts to make her know that he is head over heels for her, then I'd say, yeah. It's pretty surprising." You responded, baffled. "What changed?"

"Nothing! I just figured that she'd turn me down anyway and didn't bother. And then I heard she already accepted someone else's offer anyways." he shrugged.

"Oh," you put his hand in yours and gave it a squeeze. "I'm sorry."

James squeezed yours in return and gave you a smile. "Nothing to be sorry about. I'm fine, honestly." he assured you. “I think it might be for the best.”

Though you didn’t believe that, he did look fine. And James was never one to hide his feelings from you— in fact it was the total opposite, he was always ever so dramatic — so you took his words. You bit your lip and asked, "You want some tea?"

"What is it this time?" He asked as he took a bite of the egg.

You grabbed one of the teacups and gave it a sniff. "Oh," you scrunched up your nose from the smell, "Herbal, I think." you put it down. "That's a no then."

He groaned, "Why couldn't they just serve normal tea?"

"Because then we won't have a ‘refined’ palate." You rolled your eyes, quoting something Madam Pince had told you in the library for what seemed like a long time ago.

"That's a silly excuse for serving only herbal tea at breakfast."

You couldn't say that you disagree.

"So,” he started. “What are you doing today? Any plans?" 

"No,” you shook your head, “Nothing much." You poured yourself a glass of orange juice and passed the jug to him. "I'll probably just read. You?"

He poured one himself and grinned at you. "That depends, you want to go to Hogsmeade?" 

"Uh-oh," you let out a laugh, sensing trouble. "What are you up to?"

He gasped dramatically. "What do you mean ‘what are you up to?’ I am offended.” He placed a hand on his chest for good measure. “Could it be possible that maybe I just want to spend the day at Hogsmeade with my best friend?”

You raised your eyebrows at him.

He laughed. “I’m not going to do anything, honestly. And It'll be fun, I promise!" he nudged you. "We haven't gone there in a while." Well, that was true.

"It's cold," you argued.

"I have an extra coat if you want double."

"It will be very crowded."

"Then we'll find some place no one knows."

"That's impossible."

"Anything is possible, love. Please." He pleaded, looking at you with his big doe eyes. It was so unfair of the world to give someone such gorgeous brown eyes and left the others to dust. So unfair.

You sighed, letting out at last. He would be the death of you one of these days. "Fine," — which brought a whispered "Yes!" from him— "But we're going to have to visit the quill shop."

"Consider it done." 

──────────────────∘

Hogsmeade was truly beautiful in the winter. Its snow-covered roads, the orange lights visible in every shop, and the chattering crowds in their coats and scarves. Though the hits of cold wind on your face made you shiver, you were glad that you decided to go. And that you were with James. His arms around your shoulders provided you warmth just as much as his breath on your cheeks did.

As promised, both of you visited Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop. James had complained at first and tried to negotiate by saying you should "save the best for last" and head to Zonko's instead to open the trip, but after both of you saw the line the place'd formed, he agreed that maybe quills were more fascinating.

"Why are there so many types of ink?" he whispered loudly at you as he examined the shelves, "Who cares if it's lavender purple or lilac purple? They're purple!"

"Lots of people do." You answered before quietly squealing to him after finding a rare gem. "Look!"

You pushed the ink bottles to his face so he'd read the label. "Rainbow ink?"

"Rainbow ink!" You nodded excitedly.

"You do not need rainbow ink, love." He shook his head but couldn't force back the affectionate smile that had appeared on his face.

"Just like you don't need those hand-biting teacups or whatever from Zonko's, and yet here we are." You hummed giddily as you grabbed one of the brand new boxes of rainbow ink from the shelf.

"It's nose-biting teacups— please don't take the fun out of it," he corrected you, "and yes I do need it! It's fun! Trashy fun, but fun!”

"Whatever you say, love." Something caught your attention and you immediately grabbed the cuff of his shirt. "Oh! Let's look here!" 

With the rainbow ink tucked safely in your coat pocket, you and James walked out of the shop and visited Zonko's. He recounted all of the items he had once bought and how he had used them up, mostly with Sirius. He ended up getting something called Inflatable Tongue (for what you didn't want to know) before both of you walked out. 

You turned to him with a glint in your eyes. "Honeydukes?" 

He returned the mischief and grinned. "I thought you'd never ask. Time?"

You thought it over, looking at the clock nailed onto the wall of the shop through the glass.

“Five minutes,” you pointed out. “Letter?”

"B,” he decided as he rubbed his gloved hands together. "Ready?"

"One..." you looked over at him, I'm going to obliterated you. 

"Two…”

“Three.. Go!" you declared before both of you ran to the brightly colored store. 

You and James had many traditions. This was one of them. 

The challenge was simple. You only had to find as many candies as possible that started with the decided letter in those few minutes.

It had started with a silly argument in second year, about who knew more about sweets and, later on, the knowledge of Hogsmeade's own candy shop's stocks and products. You only had been able to visit by third year of course, and the real game had only begun there, but the fire was already established way before. 

Your friend, Marlene, thought it was stupid, and so did the rest of the Marauders, but there was something to be said about the similar stubbornness you two had. Sirius had said they were eerily alike.

You and James entered the shop with thrill and jumpy nerves, but were still decent enough to try not to run like little children that would definitely result in getting kicked out. Like that time both of you visited those muggles candy stores over a summer when you were younger. Lessons were learned.

You immediately went to the right part of the store, claiming the territory. Directed by your decision, James went to the left. 

You knew the store well. James didn’t know it, but you had been visiting this cheerful shop a lot recently. Mostly because Mary was so down after her breakup with her toxic ex and these treats are one of the things that could cheer her up. But on the side, you had done your research. The Bs were on this side of the store.

Bolandi’s Exquisite Crystallized Pineapple. Blood-flavored lollipop. Bat’s Blood Soup? Gross. And some chunks of brownies. 

Five minutes passed, and with James only got Bertie’s and bubblegums, you came out of the shop victorious. 

You jumped and threw your hands in the air. “And miss y/l/n won again. Thank you, thank you.” You bowed to a nonexistent audience. 

He only smiled at you. “Don’t be so proud now. Remember, miss y/l/n, I am still the running champion here. 3-2” he reminded you with a smug smile on his face. 

You shrugged. “That won’t be hard to feat, you mark my words.“ you offered him a look into your paper bag. “Want to try some?” 

“What’s new?” 

“Bat’s blood soup.” Your nose wrinkled at the name. “He said that it’s actually chocolate, but the name is too off putting.” 

“It’d be good with strawberries,” he offered. “We can grab some from dinner later.” 

You nodded your head as both of you made your way through the village. “I think Mary would like it too anyways.”

“Oh, right.” James said. He and Mary weren’t close but they were friendly, especially from being past neighbors and all. “How is she these days?” 

“Better every day I'm sure. It’s for the best, Matt’s an asshole.” 

“We can only hope that that itching powder will find its way real soon.” he grinned at their latest form of tricks. “Or maybe during the Yule Ball actually. That would be so much better.” 

You snorted. “Usually I would say that’s cruel, but he deserves it. We thank you for your service.” You continued solemnly. 

He waved his hand as if tipping off his hat. “And you are so very welcome.” 

Both of you walked through the well-lit village. Talking about everything and nothing, laughing at that student making a fool of himself in one of the shops, and slipped some bites of the crystallized pineapples.He asked you about how far into the book you were now, and you asked him about his Quidditch team and whether the newest member– someone from year two, you believed–was still afraid of heights.  

James had his left arm around you and your gloved hands were holding his–the one near your neck–fighting for some sense of warmth. You and James hadn’t done this in a while and you’d forgotten how much you missed it. You looked up at him as he was talking about the second-year boy and saw the flecks of snow scattered on his face, his askew glasses, and his jet black hair. It made him look a tad bit adorable, you thought. His brown eyes that had that bit of green in them were alight with something so charmingly infectious that you couldn’t help but smile. 

You looked at him as he talked about the latest match, his right hand going everywhere as he was talking at the speed of 893 miles per hour. You loved seeing him talk excitedly about something. There was just something so beautiful in hearing the people you cared about talk about things that they cared about so passionately and ardently, no matter how trivial they may be. It was like you were trusted enough to see this crazy side of them. It’s nice.

A group of third-years passed by and you heard them complaining about not being able to go to the ball yet. Something about dances, dresses and suits, and dying alone. 

"Oh," you fought a smile to keep it from surfacing as you remembered a particular last week incident. “How are your dance moves coming along?" 

He groaned. “Not this again.  You're trying not to laugh." 

"I'm not!" but a chortle escaped you either way. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry. I know you're trying your best."  

"I am!" he whined. "It's just really hard and Padfoot isn't exactly the best dance partner for practicing," he grumbled.

"Steps-on-you-shoes kind of bad or doesn't-catch-you-after-the-spin-that-you-end-up-falling kind of bad?" You said with a smile and with raised eyebrows. 

He rolled his eyes as he revealed a sheepish smile. As if he could forget. "I said I'm sorry."

“I know. but it was right there. I couldn't not do it.”

A week ago, in the empty common room at night, James had asked you to teach him the basic dance steps most people used for the ball. Despite his mother's graces for it, you found that her son was very much an amateur. 

He kept stepping on your foot and collided with you as he took the wrong directions. You were laughing and kept saying that it was fine, but he still apologized every other second of it. 

The ending to the attempts was a disaster. A playful one for you, but he seemed very embarrassed of it. You had suggested the spin—and honestly it was your fault to have recommended it in the first place when it had only been an hour and a half—and as he tried to pull you back, he might have tugged your hand a bit too hard and you ended up crashing into one another. Your figure on top of his, his hands on your waist. 

His cheeks had turned slightly red, and yours had grown hot as the fall stopped and you found your face so close to his. Your eyes inevitably found his brown ones and you felt his rapid breaths on your skin. His eyes have a little bit of green in them, like stars, your mind wandered before catching yourself. You let out a slight awkward cough and tried to laugh it off as you made yourself stand up. 

He gave you a string of apologies afterward, and although you had assured him that it was all in good fun, he never asked you to teach him again. You kind of wished he would, for reasons you couldn't quite explain, but you didn't want to push him when he had turned to Sirius to "let the failures just befall on him", as he'd said it. 

"But, either way, have you improved under the capable hands of Sirius Black, Mr. Potter?" you asked him now, an eyebrow raised. 

"Well, he's definitely not as capable as you." He gave you an admiring smile, and you almost looked away from it. Taking compliments was never one of your talents. Especially if you felt undeserved of it. 

"Well, it might come to you as a surprise, but what we learned was the easy part. I'm an intermediate myself." Deflected and dodged. 

He laughed. "Either way, you're still graceful at it. You know, the incident did happen again. With Sirius." 

You snorted. "What?" 

"Yeah. Luckily, it's still in the privacy of our dorm. so it's good."

"I'd give money to see that." 

"Would never let that happen in a million years."

“With the way things are going, I might. The dance is a public affair.” 

“I’d have to get better by next week then.” He said it solemnly like it was a promise, but he probably was kidding. That small child-like smile on his face said it all. 

You had walked to the empty side of the village. You didn't think there was one, but the snow covered streets around you were scarce of people. Only a few passersby before they too disappeared into the warm shelter of a wooden shop. Just the way you preferred it.

A sudden thought crossed your mind and before you could even give it a second thought, your mouth decided to give it a voice. "You want to try again?"

He looked around, his snow flecked eyebrows raising, and his smile tinted with a hint of amusement. "Here?"

Well now you wished you hadn't. But, playing along was always better than an embarrassed "never mind, that was stupid" right?

"Well, yes!"  you told him as if you definitely didn't have any second thoughts at all. "Almost no one’s here. Besides," You continued with a light feather edge on your words. "I heard it's freeing to dance in the cold December wind."

He shot you with one of his cheeky smiles. "Is that so?" before putting on his thinking face, a guess on the tip of his tongue. "Romance?" He ventured.

"Partly. It's a coming-of-age drama and such." You corrected him. "It's also on our winter list for this year you'll see."

"Can't wait." and he meant it. But only because, "I hope you'll also like that match tape I got of a muggles' football match. They're entertaining too to say the least."

After years of being best friends together, he had learned that you liked to talk in quotes from the books you'd read and the movies you'd watched. And after years of spending winter and summer breaks together watching and listening to the muggles' form of entertainment media, it was like you shared the same frequency. He could guess which type of movies or shows or songs you had probably heard the saying from, and you could guess which sport match did he reference that joke from.

It was a whole different game. Total number of players : two.

He stopped in his tracks, letting his arm fall from his shoulder, making your neck shudder a bit at the loss of warmth.

"So," he gave you a gentleman's bow—and a playful smile along with it—and offered his gloved hand. "May I have this dance?"

You almost let out a surprised laugh at the gesture. You took a ladylike bow, pinching the fabric of your invisible royal dress. "That depends," you said in an exaggerated accent, "are you able to do so without giving me a head injury?"

He returned the overplayed accent. "I shall make no promises. But, if i were to slip and let you fall, best believe I'd try my best to catch you."

On the usual days, you'd bring up Gwen Stacy falling into her demise in one of the remakes of the Spider-Man movies. How Peter wasn't able to catch her and she ended up dead. James would've gotten the reference—you had cried to him for hours after that first watch last summer—but you couldn't bring yourself to do it.

And yet instead, you were here, trying not to let the invisible red take too much space on your already freezing cheeks. You smiled, and it was a smile you couldn't contain. Not like others. It was one that just kept going wider and wider the more you looked at the beam plastered on his face until it wasn't physically possible anymore.

James, your head echoed his name as you mentally shook your head. A soft laugh escaped your lips. What have you done?

“We’re going to look stupid.” You admitted.

“Hey, it was your idea." He reminded you, his hand still stood in the air.

"It was a moment of foolery." But you took it.

The wind had started to pick up its course again and caused the snow to fall rapidly. Under the glow of the streetlights, you two danced and laughed. It started off as an attempt to the formal dance two would usually use at a ball, but after one or two or seven missteps, you agreed that maybe you should start over.

There was no music to accompany you but there was a faint piano playing from one of the shops. It whispered gently with the wind that swept you and James' rowdy steps. 

His laughters were echoing in your ears, into your mind. His breath was on your cheeks, and his gloved hand on your woolen one was a warming touch. His glasses were a bit askew, and a part of his hair that came out of his beanie was flecked with snow.

There was no rhyme nor reason to your steps or the placement change of your hands. It was so stupid and silly. One minute it was an amateur attempt at classic dances, and another you were fooling around as if you were at a house party.

It was nice. Like you two were five again and you knew nothing and everything. Childhood innocence, where have you gone?

There were a lot of things you were late to realize about your friendship with James. You guessed you didn’t really think much about a friendship that had started since you could remember. It had always just been there, all your life. So long that you couldn’t imagine a life without it. A steadfast thing, the most you ever had one with someone that used to be a stranger to you.

You couldn’t even imagine that now. James Potter, a stranger. It felt so wrong. You had known too much about him, he had known too much about you. He was memorized in your mind.

From his hazel brown eyes that felt like the warm hearth of your home every time you looked at them, to the quirk of his lips and the gentleness of his smile.

To his voice that had once become a soothing presence after you had had paranoid nightmares about one of the people you knew dying. To the sound of his laughter that accompany the hot days in June and the freezing weather of winter, like how it did right now.

How he would run his hands through his hair when he was frustrated or didn’t know what to do. Or how his handwriting looked and how the Gs and Ys are always so sloppy and how the Ss barely look like one.

And so many things. So many other things you couldn’t imagine living without. Maybe this was just you being too present in a moment that you couldn’t think of it being ripped away and making you not be there anymore, but you weren’t sure.

You looked at him, and it was like the rest of the world fell away. His eyes had stars in them and his cheeks were red from the cold.

Your thoughts raced in a hundred miles per hour as your breaths and the pulse in your veins tried to catch up. All of them were beating to get out of your skin and onto the snow. They all had the same jitters, the same sound, and the same beat. And they all were talking in one unison, a whisper of the name of the person in front of you.

James Potter. James Potter. James. Oh. Oh.

It was a moment too late before you realized you had not been watching your steps and tripped yourself over a good mound of snow.

“Woah, woah” You started as you fell forward onto the snow, with your hands still on James’.

You heard the soft thump of the snow hitting James’ head, as your body fell on top of his. The rough old material of his father's coat met with your similar one. Your eyes were inches from his and so were your lips. You didn’t know what to think, your mind just went blank at the sudden proximity.

You should— wait, what should you do? You should— right, oh my god, apologize!

Fighting your inner thoughts and denying its claims, you immediately got up. Maybe too quickly for nonchalance but your racing brain didn’t have time to think it through. Not when it was jammed with mixed and confused signals from your heart.

“James! I’m so so sorry!” you offered him your hand and pulled him to stand, brushing off the snow from his coat. “Sorry, I wasn’t in my mind for that one second. Sorry.”

You couldn’t meet his eyes, or even look at him—which almost never was a problem before, at least not because of this kind of… thing— so you resumed correcting his lopsided beanie. 

He just laughed though. All casual as if you didn’t just find a big revelation. “It’s okay, it’s fine.” He tried to assure you. But you still wouldn’t stop, so he took hold of your hands to stop them from fixing his woolen headwear.

Great, now you were forced to look at him. You just hoped the cold weather was still a believable reason to cover up for whatever your face may look like now. Flushed, probably. But hopefully not too embarrassed.

You looked at his face, a trace of mirth still on his lips that were so close to you a minute ago. His face was kinda red too, but it was probably because of the season.

“It’s okay,” he assured you again. “You know,” an end to his smile turned a bit more upward and you knew that a tease was coming. “You reminded me of an old me,” he continued breezily, “i made this same mistake too back then. When i was more foolish.”

You couldn’t help but let out a snort. James, james. Alright, just let things—and especially you—calm down a little, you told yourself. Let everything go back to normal.

“You mean a week ago, old man?” You lightly punched his arm, before dusting off the snow from your own coat. 

“Time is relative. Miles Morales said it himself.” He said as he helped you brush the snow out of your hair and coat. “Or actually it was Ernest whatnot but whatever.”

You let out a breath of laughter as you shook your head. His glasses were crooked so your hands automatically went up to fix it. Like you had done so many times. “There. It was crooked.” You heard yourself explaining.

“Thanks,” he said with that stupid silly smile of his. You hated that smile now. How can one have such a charismatic smile? It wasn’t fair. 

“No problem, wise man.” You responded with your new-found nickname for him, playfully rolling your eyes.  

“Seaweed brain," He called back, and that made you smile– you didn’t even realize it.

You gave him a nod of approval. "The Percy Jackson reference. Touché."

"I've learned sooo much from you." He said solemnly.

"I know." You smiled up at him. And he looked right into your eyes, that blinding smile of his radiating onto them before suddenly averting his gaze onto the ground, where evidence of your very own accident made a mark on the snow.

James rubbed his hands together, searching for warmth. "Hey, you want to go to the Three Broomsticks? It’ll probably be emptier now.” He offered, like he always did because he was your friend. Your best friend since you could remember.

You didn’t know why you were acting weird. It was only an hour ago when everything was normal. You didn’t know how everything could just change in a matter of seconds. He was your friend, it would be okay. However this would unfold, everything would be fine. Both of you had always overcome things before. It was with James, you two would get through it. You were grateful to have him. 

“Oh yeah sure.” You agreed. Wait, was that too quick of a response? Oh fuck it. He was your best friend, he had known you all his life too—which was exactly why if there was something off with you, he’d definitely be the first person to notice it, but you didn’t want to think about it too much. You shook your heads to clear all maddening thoughts. “Have you heard from Frank? Haven’t gone there in a while.”

“Oh, yeah he’s great.” He continued in a whisper, “I heard he has just received a new package of fire whiskey and Sirius and I are hoping to get a snatch of it or two. You know, for the house.”

“Right, for the house,” You rolled your eyes.

He lent out a hand to you, "Shall we?"

You took it and he gave it a soft squeeze, its grip sending vibrations through your bones.

"We shall."

───────────────∘

James was right, it wasn't as crowded as it would be if you had come earlier. Most people here had their drink and company either at noon or late afternoon and night. 3 pm wasn't exactly a busy hour. Though there were still too many people and noises for your comfort, you and James could at least find a table for two in the corner, quieter spot.

He came to the table holding two butterbeers in his hand. Both served hot to minimize the cold. He slid yours down the table and took a seat in front of you. His glasses are turned slightly uneven again. 

"So, y/n" he started as you picked up your drink and sighed at the heat it gave you. Your hands were absolutely freezing.

"Hm?" You responded, more focused on the comforting smell that radiated from your cup.

"I've been thinking," He continued, and now you looked up. You were so distracted before that you didn't notice how his hands were moving as if he were drumming his thighs under the table— a habit he often did when he was nervous.

You furrowed your eyebrows for a second but decided to ignore it. "Uh-oh. Nothing good ever comes up from that." You took a careful sip of the butterbeer, its warmth traveled all through your withered body. "New horrible trick ideas?"

He rolled his eyes, a breathy laugh came out of his lips. "Why is it that you always always think the worst of me, miss y/l/n?"

Just this morning, at the Great Hall, every part of you was functioning alright. Nothing going haywire. But now, there was a skipped beat in your heart and a flip in your stomach. You tried to deflect it but the butterflies couldn't be bothered.

"I don't always always think the worst of you James. I just know you." You did, you really did. You wondered if he knew it though.

"Well, I bet you wouldn't guess what's going to come out of my mouth this time." He claimed in a challenging tone.

You raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

"Five guesses." He grinned as he pulled up five fingers to illustrate his point. "No retracting."

"Alright then," You accepted the challenge. You silently thought to yourself before voicing it all aloud. "Wasn't a trick, so maybe you are... planning to do something to the Marauders? Like, I don't know, maybe get those two idiots together to the ball?"

He pulled down a finger. "You know, maybe I should. But that wasn't it. You were kinda close though." 

Close where? “Sirius and Remus?”

He made a loud incorrect buzzer sound and pulled down another finger.

“Hey, that wasn’t-”

“No retracting,” he reminded you, as he took a sip of his own beverage.

“Not fair,” you grumbled. You thought about it again before guessing, “Oh! Yule Ball shenanigans? Oh wait no-“

Another buzzer sound, and two fingers left. “My, you really don’t know me, do you y/n?” He feigned a dramatic hurt on his face and a slight pout. “You’re close though.” 

About the dance? What’s about the dance? “What, you’re going to skip the ball?” You said it as a joke but he wasn’t laughing. In fact, there was just a trace of truth in that smile of his when you said it. “What, I’m right?”

“No. But that depends actually.”

“You’re talking in riddles.” 

“Yeah, it’s fun, isn’t it?” His smile had a slight smirk now, like it was still held back or something. “That counted as incorrect by the way.” He made another buzzer sound and one finger left.

You sighed in frustration. The Yule Ball, but it wasn’t about any tricks. So what? Oh. The realization hit you as you felt your heart drop. It was so silly, but bad timing, James. Bad timing.

“You’re finally going to try and ask someone else to go to the ball with you?” You voiced out your thoughts, hoping there wasn’t a hint that could suggest something else; reluctance and hesitation. What, did he meet her in the hallway before you two went out or something? 

He pulled his lips together and gave you a small shrug. “Close,” he concluded. “But again that depends.”

You sighed. “Alright, fine. I give up. I surrender. Just tell me.” You almost pleaded with him. 

“You’re my best friend, right?”

Right. Best friend. Of course. You nodded. “Mhm.”

“So…” he stopped, like he was nervous to get the words out. That was weird.

A worse idea came to mind.Oh please don’t tell me he’s going to ask me to become his fake date for the ball to make Lily jealous, you silently desperately prayed. It would’ve been easy if it had been any other week before, but not this week. Not today. And specifically not at this hour, when you were still processing everything. 

“Will you…” he continued hesitantly, his fingers playing with a loose thread on one of his gloves, a smile fighting to still be displayed on his lips. “Give me the honor and go with me to the dance?"

You said nothing, only slightly raised your eyebrows in surprise. That depends. You didn’t want to let the fireworks surround you. Skepticism came first, as it always had to.

But your silence seemed to jittered him, and he immediately jumped to explanation. “You know, because we’re best friends, and none of us have a date, and I don't know, I thought it would be fun? To go together. As friends. Casual thing. You know.” He shrugged.

You let out a smile at that, and it seemed to relax him a bit. Why was he so nervous? Of course you’d go with him. You were his best friend, and he was yours, he knew that. “Well, you are not a stranger I don't know or even like.” You joked.

He gave you a grin at that. “No, I’m not. So, you’d go? With me, I mean?”

He was cuter when he was nervous, it wasn’t fair. Why was he nervous again? You’d understand if it was you who were nervous, but why was he?

You couldn’t focus on anything besides the annoyingly loud flutter in your heart—and how hard you are trying to beat and stomp it to death right now. This doesn’t mean anything, it was just a friendly gesture. James was in love with Lily, there was no question, of course.

But you still felt the butterflies on your stomach go wild. You were fighting to contain that smile on your face, scared he’d figure out it wasn’t just any casual thing for you. You were going to the ball with your best friend and you realized there was no else you’d rather go with. 

“Of course, James. You’re my best friend!” You smiled up at him, the warmth coming through your gloves from the hot drink was now small compared to the thrill that coursed through your body. “Though do you have a written contract for possible head damage compensation because I might need it.”

He shook his head, a slight relieved laughter came out of his lips. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love me because of it.” You were only teasing, but you thought he looked at you with such sincerity in his eyes that it jarred your senses a bit. 

“Yeah, I do.”

───────────────────────

[tagsecretsanta]

From @call-me-casual

From @call-me-casual to @thalassastra

Prompts

John and Scott

The natural world or a non-sky/space related hobby

Hurt/comfort or fluff

The plan:

John and Scott go for an early-morning walk post mission in a frosty park. Hijinks ensue. Scott worries about John, falls down, they laugh. They find a robin (or does it find them?), and reminisce about an old superstition their mum told them a long time ago. “Maybe someone doesn’t have to be dead to send a robin. Maybe… if they try hard enough, they can send one anyway, to see if we’re alright.”

-

Silence in space was very different to “silence” on Earth. Most people thought they knew quiet, but they had never truly been in the absence of sound created by the endless vacuum that was their universe. In a way, you could consider it a vast deprivation chamber, nothing to hear or feel, your only visuals being stars no matter which way you turn. 

Silence on Earth wasn’t silence. No matter where on the planet someone stood, there would always be noise. Leaves rustling, cars rumbling along roadways, the far off chatter of other humans, the wind. Hell, even things like the aurora had a sound if you listened hard enough. Although that occurred in the atmosphere - so would it count as a space sound? Eh, who cares about specifics. 

In this place, Earth silence was the distant trickle of frigid water, the flitter of wings as a robin hopped from one skeletal tree to another, a crow hidden somewhere in the morning mist letting the world hear what it had to say, the gentle crunch of frosted ground underfoot-

“I mean, the nerve! The audacity!”

John smirked. Seemed like the crow wasn’t the only thing making its opinions known.

Scott’s face was pulled into an annoyed pout of sorts. John knew his older brother, could read him like one of his many (many, probably too many) books, and considered himself fluent enough in Scott-facial-language to understand when he was dealing with ‘annoyed, but harmless’ Scott Tracy versus ‘I’m five seconds from murder or a breakdown’ Scott Tracy. Today was the former. 

The orphan commander grumbled as he trudged along, looking a bit like an angry dragon with the little puffs of steam that came from his breath, his hands fiddling with the strings of a hoodie worn not out of necessity, but a half-arsed attempt at concealing his IR uniform. Anyone with functioning eyes and half a synapse could see that everyone from the waist down gave it away, but it was 7:09am, GMT, in early December. No sane English person would be up at this time, let alone out for a run.

They walked past a tall cluster or gorse, bedazzled so slightly by ice and frost that glinted in what sunlight broke through the clouds. Lady P had been right, this place was beautiful…

That hoodie string wasn’t going to last much longer like this.

“Alright, what’s wrong, Scott?” 

“We’ve come a long way as a species, but this could set us back years! Decades!” The brunette tugged at his hair, disrupting the perfectly combed style.

John could feel a smirk tugging at his lips

“Are you still on that?”

“Yes! If this were to get out-“

“I don’t think people will try it, Scott…”

Scott turned to look at John, big blue eyes narrowed with cold seriousness.

“You don’t know people like I do, John. You haven’t… haven’t seen what I’ve seen. There are maniacs out there, pure evil. This is… it’s too dangerous. We need to alert the GDF! I refuse to let my brothers live in a world where-“

The ginger fought the urge to roll his eyes, finding support against a fence post. Damn gravity.

“It’s pie, Scott. The world isn’t going to end because someone put cream cheese on their pie.”

Scott scowled, stuffing his hands into his pockets with a melodramatic huff. He blinked his eyes, jaw tensed to hold in what was obviously a yawn.

“You haven’t slept in over 24 hours, have you?”

It was hardly a question, John had been the one to send Scott on back to back missions - regretfully - and he knew how his brother worked. Burn bright, burn fast, burn out.

Scott waved his hand dismissively, blinking again.

“I’m fine, just a little tired.” He said “Nothing a little cold air won’t fix!”

“…”

“Okay and maybe a coffee.” Scott didn’t bother to hide the roll of his eyes, even as he turned that gaze of sky to his lesser earthbound brother.

“But what about you?” He said, “It’s an icy, frosty morning and you’ve just thrown yourself down from Five to…” Scott trailed off, brow knotting together as he came to the realisation that he didn’t actually know John’s motives for leaving his usually preferred solitude in geostationary orbit.

John huffed, trying to reached across a large gap in the fence without losing his current handhold. That would spell disaster in way of sudden acquaintance with the dirt, and there was no way in hell he’d give Scott the satisfaction of seeing that happen.

“Can’t a guy want to spend some quality time with his big brother?”

“You have Virgil for that-“

“I said big brother, I didn’t say older brother.”

Scott’s face scrunched, each invasive silver hair glinting like the frost. John frowned.

“When was the last time you hung out with any of us? No, let me rephrase-“

John clutched to a fence post as pulled himself up,

“-When was the last time any of us hung out with you?”

There it was. The sideways glance, the twitch of the lips, the falter.

Scott Tracy wore his mask well in front of the world, the mask of the strapping young man who’d stepped up to bare the weight of their father’s legacy. But when they were alone, when the only eyes on them were that of a singing robin did that mask, for just a moment, slip.

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not.”

“I’m not very interesting-“

“Scott-“

“I’m fine-“

“You’re still our brother-“

“I told you I’m f-IIINNEEE!”

Scott Tracy was many things. Daring. Charismatic. Loyal to a fault. Heart of gold. A quick thinker. 

Graceful on ice, or any other slippery surface for that matter? Unfortunately no.

The brunet’s notorious “noodle legs” (so affectionately named by Tracy Island’s resident Fish freak) fell from under him, and for a brief second Scott’s equally “noodly” arms - John made a mental note to ask Virgil to keep an eye on when their brother eats - flailed like the flapping of a nearby robin’s wings in attempt to keep upright.

That cruel mistress gravity won out. Scott hit the ground with a thud, gasping in pain as his head slammed on the ground.

“Scott!”

John’s heart sank. Oh no, no no no no. A hit like that could leave at best a concussion, at worse more serious damage. What if Scott couldn’t fly One? What if he got knocked out? What if he got brain damage?! What if-

The undignified yelp that left the Space Monitor’s lips would go unheard and forgotten. If anyone asked, it never happened. Never. Like a tree falling in the woods with no one around to hear it.

Was that how the saying went?

He flopped down into the cold and the dirt alongside Scott, getting a face full of hoodie. John raised his head and shook it frantically.

“Scott?!”

Please be okay please be-

Scott’s shoulders shook, his chest heaving with each shaky breath he took. A hand found its way to John’s back, clutching it as the pilot threw his head back

And laughed.

It was a sound as welcome as a robin’s song on a cold winter’s morning, and in no time John joined him.

-

Silence on Earth wasn’t silence. No matter where on the planet someone stood, there would always be noise. Leaves rustling, cars rumbling along roadways, the far off chatter of other humans, the wind…

And the shivers of a pair of tropically-acclimated brothers as they huddled on a small bench, watching the sublimation of sun-warmed frost mingle with the waning sea of mist.

Scott giggled softly, the dimples gracing his cheeks creased and deepened as that still youthful face pulled back into a relaxed, gleeful expression. Sunlight to melt away the cold silver that tried to creep in, to take that boy away from them all. John idly rubbed at the drying mud in the pilot’s hair.

He knew, that just like the endless return of winter and the greater pass of time, that the silver would always be there, waiting like a beast beyond a door, ready to take Scott into its peremptory grasp and never let go. It would come one day, but not today. John Glenn Tracy was not a man who gave in, and he intended to hold the beast at bay for as long until he could no longer.

No one would take his brother from him.

A small flash of red flittered across his vision, and John looked up at the little robin settled on a branch overhead. Scott sniffed, trying to dispel the cold from his now reddened nose.

“I swear that thing has been following us.” John thought aloud.

“The robin?” Scott sat up, relinquishing John’s side back to the frigid air. “Aww, he’s cute!”

“How do you know it’s a he?”

Scott shrugged, “it’s big?”

John rolled his eyes in amusement, even if he itched to correct his brother.

“It’s the females that bigger in most bird species.”

“I swear Virgil said robin guys are bigger.”

John hummed in acknowledgment, chewing his inner cheek to distract himself. Damn it.

“…I’ve got one of those shortbread things in my pocket.” Scott said, reaching a hand into his worn out hoodie, producing a small packet. He pressed it between his hands, grinding the contents.

“Give me your hand.”

John blinked, sitting a little straighter.

“Me? Why me?”

Those big pools of sky did a barrel roll. The eldest grabbed his brother’s hand, bringing it close and tipping the former shortbread into John’s hand.

“Because you need some connection to the planet you’re from that isn’t going face first into it.”

Okay, touché. John couldn’t find an argument against that. This was the first time he’d been down in what, a month? Two? He’d ask EOS, but the space monitor had suspicion that she’d take his brother’s side and join team Smotherhen. Traitorous little…

“Still, John!” Scott’s excited whisper brought John back to Earth. Was he trying to tell him something and he’d completely ignored him? Or was that an instruction? A pair of tiny talons gripped into his spacesuit, and John watched as the small robin - its feathers a shade Virgil would almost definitely call “Scott brown” and its belly a fiery orange not unlike John’s own hair - pecked at the offering. Its moved with swift little hops, dipping its head down like lightning to enjoy the treat. Occasionally those black eyes would glance his way, and John felt his breath catch.

The brothers sat in silence, watching as their little friend ate.

“He’s tame.” Scott mumbled quietly.

“I still think it’s a female.” John said. The robin didn’t move.

Scott curled his hand, gripping his uniform with that telltale anxious energy. He chewed his lip before speaking.

“Do you… remember that old saying mum used to tell us after Grandpa died? That robins-“

“-are our loved ones coming to check on us?” John recalled that day. It was little Alan’s first time seeing the red-bellied birds. Gordon’s too, if he remembered correctly - that boy only had eyes for anything that swam. It had sat on the windowsill all morning, an unusual sight for the ranch’s climate really. Their baby brother had been so fascinated by it, until it flittered suddenly and startled the toddler. Mum had consoled him, and told them all it was just Grandpa. The old man had always loved a good joke.

“Do you think it’s mum?”

“I thought you said it was a male robin.” John cast his brother a smirk.

“Well it can’t be…” Scott trailed off like the word had lodged in the back of his throat, refusing to come out. Because that would be bringing a bad idea into the world, making it real.

“He’s not… he can’t…” the frost began to creep in.

John ran his free hand up Scott’s back, up until he brushed against his hair like he could melt the silver away with the warmth of his hand. Staring down that vile beast, standing tall and saying “try me”.

John Glenn Tracy had lost his father to the frost. He wouldn’t lose Scott.

“You know, Scott… mum never said our loved ones had to be dead. Maybe you don't have to be dead to send a robin. Maybe… if they try hard enough, if they really, really try… they can send one anyway, to make sure we’re okay.”

[gamesception]

Sception Reads Cass Cain #42

Batgirl (2000) #21 - December 2001 Writer: Kelley Puckett……….Pencils: Damion Scott Inks: Robert Campanella…..Colors: Gregory Wright

My short break turned into a 6 month hiatus, but the first issue of the new Cass Batgirl run releasing tomorrow (at time of writing this) has finally given me the push to start this project up again. While this isn't the most consequential issue to come back to, it is a good one, and it has Stephanie in it, and references og Cass's initial dynamic with Shiva, which is topical since the new book will at least start with a focus on modern Cass's relationship with her mother.

Most of the usual team here this time, only we have a different Wright on the colors than usual. Which did give me a brief moment of panic that I'd been attributing colors to the wrong person, but no, most of the previous issues specifically credit Jason Wright, but this one specifically credits Gregory.

The issue opens with Cass preparing for a training routine, and I have to point out that the evolution of Damion Scott's art style that I brought up in a reply to a post that was going around recently (link) regarding inconsistency in Cass's appearance was already well underway by issue 21 of her ongoing.

The training sequence itself is pretty extreme as Cassandra demolishes dozens of dummies and a few (potentially load bearing?) stone columns in her cave...

Before nearly taking Spoiler's head off and making herself sick with the effort of stopping her own punch and/or the realization of what almost just happened. It's a cool-then-funny sequence which also reinforces how Cassandra is capable of absolutely destroying people, but that she very much doesn't want to actually hurt anyone, traits that will of course be key to events later in the issue because Kelley Puckett is just good like that.

Anyway, Steph is here because Babs sent her to get Cass and bring her to the Clock Tower, since Cass wasn't responding to calls while engrossed in her hours-long training regimen.

*I wish I didn't have to, Mirthful Mike.

But yeah, this issue is a sort of tie in to Joker: Last Laugh, a miniseries / crossover event from 2001 that frankly I didn't much care for. Unfortunately we'll have to look at an issue from the main miniseries run next time, but for the moment Bab's summary is all that needs to be relevant for the current issue.

The more interesting thing going on in the same panel is the little exchange between Babs and Cass about whether Cass has been studying her super villain files. With Cass answering 'no' in a kind of embarrassed way, which Barbara reads as Cass being embarrassed about not doing her homework, something Babs obviously things Cass ~should~ be doing but that she's kind of given up on Cass ever caring enough ~to~ do, with Cass just not caring about the part of the job that she's not good at / the part of the job that Barbara does. It's a whole thing., and a point of tension that at this point in the comic is slowly building and then later will be forgotten about and unmentioned for a huge run of issues and then even later than that will explode out of nowhere. Again with my recurring comment about this book being fantastic on the build up of character arcs and not as great on the follow through.

BUT ANYWAY, Babs is completely misreading this situation, because Cass isn't embarrassed because she think she's been caught not doing something she should, she's visibly embarrassed (love the art from Scott here, again with managing a very expressive Cass despite being in the full face covering mask) because she thinks she's been caught doing something she shouldn't.

One of the first rules Bruce gave her was 'no costumed criminals'. She's not supposed to be fighting supervillains or metahumans or any other weirdos with special abilities or gimmicks that might invalidate her body-reading ability, which we've already established is her primary and near only defensive skill. At least, that's the in universe justification for why this book mostly avoids big scenery chewing bad guys who would otherwise distract from the intended tone and core themes.

Now, Bruce would have intended that as "don't fight them, but absolutely study them so you know what you're dealing with if you have do", but Cass is very much the sort of kid who would have heard that as 'supervillains are entirely off limits, I don't want you to fight them, or look at them, or even think about them', like the whole subject is a taboo - one she'll absolutely break, but that she'll feel guilty about breaking and try to hide from authority figures, because that's how she deals with guilt in general, lying (poorly) about it, trying to hide it. Because she doesn't think she deserves to be Batgirl, so she's completely insecure about it and sure she's going to be fired the moment anyone sees through her.

And that's especially the case given the reason she's been so carefully studying the particular supervillains she has - super powered martial artists. The same reason she's been training so hard that she's destroying her cave, missing calls from Barbara, and nearly killing unexpected guests who wander into her sessions, but that's a subject the comic comes back to later.

This habit / character flaw / broken coping mechanism of lying to hide guilt (misplaced or otherwise) is just so compelling to me. The way the lies taint every relationship, distancing the character from anyone they should be able to rely on, the way the they inevitably build up as the character feels guilty about the lies themselves and makes up more lies to hide that, like a matryoshka doll, or a tower of cards waiting to fall, the way that by the time other characters start pulling on the strings thinking they know what's going on there's a usually a cascade of revelations each more shocking than the last. Alphys in Undertale is a prime example of this.

The disaster when everything falls apart is usually the best part of this dynamic, and sadly Batgirl (2000) will choose to subvert that part (again, fantastic set up, but never quite following through), but we aren't there yet.

Anyway, it's just a couple short lines of dialog across as many panels sharing space with a blunt info-dump, but it's a really good character beat speaking to both Cass's flaws - the whole lying and hiding anything she feels guilty about - and Barbara's - assuming she already knows what's going on and not digging any further or following up (which only enables Cass's lying and hiding) because the reason she assumes makes her annoyed and angry (which Cass of course picks up on, reinforcing her feelings of guilt and insecurity).

It's a complicated and unhealthy dynamic between two people that otherwise genuinely love each other, and the tension and angst that comes from that is also fantastic.

The original Cass Cain Batgirl run was full of this drama that comes from making these variously maladjusted characters care about each other and exploring the fraught relationship dynamics that result. That more than anything else is what made Batgirl (2000) great and that post-flashpoint Cass has been lacking (the parts I've read anyway, still need to get around to that Outsiders run). Even my constant complaints about the flanderization of latter day David Cain basically boil down to this, because original Cass's relationship with Cain was overflowing with this sort of tension.

Anyway, that's a ton of talk about two panels, lets see if I can rush through the rest of the issue a bit more quickly...

...

So Babs gives a reason why Cass and Steph aren't wanted in this otherwise all-hands-on-deck emergency situation, a reason that's a little bit dumb, but way less dumb than the reason we'll get next time, and Cass says she's fine with it, which takes Babs by surprise. You can see the fight she was ready to have about it, you can see how confused she is when Cass just says OK, because again Scott is just so good at these facial expressions. Babs, or at least this version of her, is susceptible to making inaccurate assumptions about people, about Cass in particular, but she's a smart enough cookie to notice when Cass acts outside of those assumptions and start questioning whether something else is going on.

So Cass goes to train in Bab's star trek holodeck (I admit that thing was a bit too sci fi for a gotham book for my tastes), and refuses to let Steph sit in, which calls back the scene earlier to reinforce it in the readers memory before what happens later.

The power goes out, and Cass comes out sheepishly, this miserable look on her face (again! So good!), because she thinks she broke the holo room, and there's no way to hide & lie her way around that, but the problem isn't Cass...

It's this guy, Shadow Thief (jokerized), a villain I know nothing about and have never seen or read outside of this comic. He's got some weird tech that, I think, drains electricity from nearby devices to make himself (but not his weapons) intangible?

Scott draws him in an extra exaggerated, cartoony, and rubbery style, which works here to emphasize his weird powers and/or jokerization, but does kind of foreshadow how all of his comic art starts to look more like that over time - which again isn't bad (as you can see in the panel here it actually looks pretty cool), but I still prefer the earlier style.

Anyway, Shadow Thief also a notable supervillain martial artist, so Cass actually has been studying his files, and knows exactly how to deal with him -

Catching the throwing stars he throws at them with her fingers (look at her smile! She's loving this!)

Throwing out some cocky banter to play on his ego

Grabbing his very tangible sword to draw him to the roof so Babs and Steph aren't caught in their fight.

All great stuff.

And yeah, Barbara has absolutely picked up that somethings going on with Cass. Eventually it will be revealed that she just already knows about the fight with Shiva, and I don't think we ever see how she found out, but this is pretty clearly where she started to suspect something and it's not too much of a stretch to jump from that initial suspicion to just knowing everything, at least not with this character.

Even without his sword, Shadow Thief has special martial arts techniques that somehow let him sort of hit things despite his Shadow Field making him intangible....

And now Cass does, too.

One of the usual principles of early Batgirl (2000) - no supervillains - serves to keep the focus tight on the more emotional themes of the book. Cass is so far out of the league of any of the typical criminals she runs up against that fights are always over in a flash, keeping action scenes short and punchy and leaving more space in the book for other things. But it is nice, every once in a while, to make an exception for a more drawn out and elaborate fight scene like this, where Cass can really show her skills.

But the real drama of this issue happens when Babs finds a way to remotely deactivate Shadow Thief's intangibility field mid battle. That 'oh, shit' face is so good.

All Cass's joy gone in an instant. She was having so much fun. She was so happy to have a real opponent she could cut loose on instead of inanimate dummies or holograms. Someone good enough to keep up with her, and with a defensive ability effective enough that she could put her full skills to use without having to worry about actually hurting them. Yeah, Shadow Thief's a villain, but they were playing with each other, trading banter. Having fun. Despite Shadow Thief's murderous intent, this was almost more of a friendly sparring match than a real fight.

But once again she gets a stark reminder of what her skills were originally meant for, what she was originally meant for. Earlier in the issue Cass was throwing up at the thought that she even could have hurt Stephanie, and now she probably killed this guy. And there won't be any hiding this - forget what might happen if Bruce finds out about the guy she murdered as a child, he 100% is going to find out about this man that she murdered, on the roof of Barbara's safe house, while wearing his symbol. Her entire life is falling apart, here.

But Stephanie is here. And helps Cass save him. Helps her save herself.

And of course Cass wants to hide what happened from Barbara. And of course Stephanie, being a good friend, keeps her secret, even if it probably would have been better to talk to Barbara about what happened and what Cass is feeling about it. Then again, if Babs knew it might have gotten back around to Bruce, and that ~wouldn't~ have been a healing conversation.

And the issue ends with a Flashback to Cass agreeing to fight Shiva, a real fight, to the death, using all of their killing skills. An bargain struck many issues back, so this is the reminder to readers that the fight is coming up soon, only a few issues away now. The final page is this panel of Cass back in her cave, with Shiva's file open, a video recording of her fighting on loop, as Cass sits with her face in shadow. She isn't going to fight to kill Shiva. She can't. So Shiva is absolutely going to kill her.

So yeah, a strong issue to come back to, catching us up on the overal serial plot of the book at the time, but also strongly grounded in original Cass's core emotional themes and the intricate dynamics of some of her core relationships, including now to Stephanie, with this being a huge early moment of vulnerability from Cass and support from Steph pushing them from like work friends who pal around some times to real friends who rely on each other.

And despite making exceptions to include a super villain and extended fight scene and callback to an ongoing serial narrative arc, this issue still mostly adheres to the core early Batgirl (2000) playbook.

It tells a complete story in a single issue; tightly focused on Cass's core character themes, motivations, and frought, layered relationships; expressed mostly through the artwork with relatively minimal reliance on dialog and even less on narration, with an overall sombre or even tragic tone punctuated with moments of levity or heartfelt human connection.

I'm writing this before having a chance to read the first issue of Cass's new ongoing, but more than anything else, more than reverting her canon to the pre-flashpoint history (which I don't even want, post-flashpoint Cass is a new character and I'm sure she has fans who care about her as much as I cared about original Cass), even more than restoring the original version of David Cain, what I hope for most from the new book is a return to this kind of storytelling.

[bangchansgirlsblog]

My Biggest Regret

Part eight

**

"Y/n, dear, can you get the door?" Chan's mum looked over at the girl who was sat on the couch reading a book.

Y/n was dressed and ready just waiting for Hannah so they could leave the house. She had her hair up in a ponytail and she was wearing a long floral dress with a cardigan that matched the baby blue petals.

"Sure Auntie," her voice was soft as always and like the obedient girl she was, she got up and padded towards the door where she opened it and smiled. A friendly smile.

"Hello, I'm here to pick up the boys. Are they around?" A young gentle man asks politely.

"Hello!" She waves, "yes they are, they'll be down in a minute,"

"Oh alright then, please let them know we'll be outside waiting," he pointed over at the other driver who smiled and waved at her.

"Ohh, alright then. I'll let them know," the gentleman said a quick thank you before leaving to go back to the cars that were neatly parked outside.

Fancy.

She closed the door behind her and made her way upstairs where a half naked Felix wondered Into the hallway. He was looking for something and hadn’t seen Y/n walking infront of him. He only noticed when he bumped into her.

"Oh hey!" He said while his cheeks turn red. He quickly grabs his hoodie and puts it on, "sorry about that," he mumbled but all Y/n did was laugh at the flustered boy.

"It's okay Felix, are you guys ready? Your drivers are waiting downstairs," she informed him.

"Oh? They are? I just got done dressing up I'm waiting on Seungmin to finish-"

"Finish what?" Seungmin's popped up out of the blue out of their shared room.

"Finish getting dressed," Felix chuckled and slung his bag over his shoulder.

"You all look fancy," she complimented both of them. She didn’t mean it in a flirty way but the way both boys were grinning and smiling she thought that maybe that had taken it in that way.

"Oh thank you! You do too," They were both shy as they stood there shifting from one foot to the other.

"Alright I'm going to head to Hannah's room, just let the other guys know. Have fun..." she paused not sure where they were going actually.

"Oh! We're going to the arena,"

"Have fun at the arena!" She smiled and gave them each half hugs.

"You too!" Felix blurts as she walked away. Seungmin smacked the back of his head whispering a small 'she's not going to the arena dumbass'. Who knew speaking to Y/n would make Felix so nervous?

**

"Hmmm peace and quiet finally!" Hannah hums to the tune on the radio. Y/n was sat eating the lunch that Chan's mum had made for her knowing how chemo normally drained her.

"It's only been 10 minutes Hannah," she couldn't help but laugh.

"I know! I know but still it felt like I was slowly suffocating-"

"Oh please! Don't act like you hate I.N suffocating you," Hannah's face turned red as she turned to Y/n. Horror was written all over her face.

"Oh- I- ummm...So you and Chan?" She meant it to come out as a statement but it came out as a question.

"Oh cut it out, I saw him walking out your room this morning," she giggled and switched on her phone.

"It was so funny because he was in a towel and he looked so embarrassed," she was dying of laughter now and you could see that Hannah wanted to jump out the car.

"Okay okay! You got me.."

"I know,” she shrugged, “Y/n has eyes everywhere, so! How was it?" They were acting like teenagers at this point. Gossiping at lunch time.

  "Well…we kinda you know..”

“You guys fucked?!” Y/n exclaimed and quite literally jumped up in her chair.

“Shhhh! Don’t tell Chan please, I beg you…”

“Girl! Ofcourse I won’t tell him duh plus I like you and I.N together…even tho it hasn’t even been 24 hours yet,” she scratched the back of her head and laughed.

The weather was a bit cold, it was coming to December after all. The two had cardigans on and the heater radiated through the air of the car.

“Hm, I know but I feel like I see something in him,” she shrugged and chewed the gum that was in her mouth.

“Well if you feel like you really like him just go for it-“

“The thing is I don’t want to leave and end up like…” she bit her tongue and nervously looked at Y/n.

“You can say it, like me and Chan but that’s the thing you aren’t me and Chan,”

“I know, I know but like what if he breaks my heart,”

“Hannah! Stop overthinking it! It’s been less than 24 hours! The guy hasn’t even taken you out on a date yet,”

“Ugh! Your right, but-“

“Nope I don’t hear you!” She put her fingers in her ears and starting making uncalled noises, “talk to me when he’s taken you on a real date and it’s been more than a day!”

Hannah looked over at her and couldn’t help but smile. She loved Y/n so much. With everything in her.

“Fine fine fine! Enough about me. What about you and Chan?”

“I mean…other than the conversation we had last night, nothing really happened. We were about to kiss though-“

“What?!” Hannah gasped, “Your first kiss?! With my brother?! Yuck!”

“Don’t act like it wasn’t going to be him anyway,” she nudged Hannah playfully. “Plus it didn’t even happen, Hyunjin interrupted us,”

She continued to play with her ring, contemplating wether she should ask Hannah what was running through her mind. But it was almost like she knew something was bothering Y/n.

“Spill right now!”

“What?”

“I know that look Y/n. I know you very well and you have something in your mind. So spill!”

“Uhm- fine…Do you feel like maybe Chan’s different? Like I don’t know…his more rough and edgy? Maybe I’m just overthinking-“

“I agree with you, he seems more dark right??” Hannah clapped her hands agreeing with her.

“Maybe his just grown, I don’t want to jump into conclusions,”

“What made you think like this Y/nnie?”

“Well yesterday you know how I was in the kitchen?” Hannah nodded urging her to continue, “well Chan told me to go to his room and stuff and Han said something like ‘real smooth dude’ and he dabbed him up laughing. Almost like it was a game?” She paused and looked at Hannah confused expression, “maybe I’m just overthinking it..never mind,”

“I mean…I do know that’s messed up for sure,”

“Yeah it doesn’t matter anyways so. We’re even here,” she smiled looking at the hospital that sat in front of them.

“I don’t understand why you’re so cheery whenever we pull up here! It’s so gloomy in there,” Hannah groans as she parked the car.

“Well since they make it gloomy we have to make it ungloomy,” she grabbed her bag and put the lunchbox inside.

“Life isn’t all unicorns and rainbows Y/n when will you learn that?” She giggled and looked over at Y/n.

Y/n knew life wasn’t unicorns and rainbow, for crying out loud she had cancer! Why would life be so sweet for her? She just didn’t want the things that braught her down to have power over her and she hoped everyone would be like that.

[aheckinmess]

It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

(Part 17 to The Snowball Effect)

Read on AO3.

Tags: Enji Todoroki, Endeavor, Female Reader, Reader Has an Ice Quirk, Endeavor x Reader, Enji Todoroki x Reader, MHA Christmas Special, Spending Time with Friends/Family, Toshinori Yagi, Shinya Kamihara, All Might, Edgeshot, Original Female Character(s), A Lot of Warm Fuzzies in Here

Word Count: 1,205 words

Summary: After getting over a cold, you and Enji arrange for a babysitter so you can both take a well-deserved break while you go visit your friends at a Christmas party.

Playlist: The Snowball Effect

December 17

“I took the liberty of calling Tokei to watch the kids this evening so you and I can catch a break.” Enji tells you over a cup of tea. “I figure you need it especially after being sick.”

“That’s very sweet of you, Enchan. What are we going to do? I take it you’ve made plans?” You poke out your tongue as you mark the stitch in your current crochet project.

“Well, we do have the Christmas party tonight with Toshinori and Sayuri, remember?”

“Oh, shoot. Is that tonight? I forgot all about it! I’ll go out and get some gifts.”

His hand palms your shoulder to pause you before you can even sit up. 

“Relax, my flame, I’ve got it all taken care of. You were sick and I didn’t expect you to remember.”

His thoughtfulness drains the tension from your muscles as you smile and lean against his side. The couch sinks with the added weight of your worry before you turn to rest your head on Enji’s comfy thigh. 

“What did you get them, then?”

“It’ll just be Toshinori, Sayuri, Hana, and Shinya. I got a present for everyone. You know how much Toshinori likes America – I got him a package of American postcards with a barbecue sauce sampler.” He pauses. “You’re from America. Why is that a thing?”

“Barbecue samplers? Oh, sweetheart, that’s an easy go-to for gift giving! There’s always a barbecue going on in the United States.” You chuckle, pulling his massive hand into yours to idly trace pictures into his skin.

“Hm, well, I guess it’s good that I got him something traditional. He’ll like that.” Enji decides, before continuing on his rundown. “I got Sayuri an embroidery kit. Hasn’t she mentioned needing more patterns?”

“Oh, yes! She’ll love that. I’m a little jealous; you might win over her heart and I’ll have to beat her off of you for that.” You tease.

“As if the embroidery kit would be able to pry her from Toshinori in the first place.” Enji snorts. “Hana was the easiest. I just bought her a small collection of books from her wishlist.”

“Define small.” 

“Oh, hush. It’s not a lot. I didn’t want anyone to think we were favoring them, so it’s just five or so.” He ruffles your hair.

You swipe at his hand playfully when he purposefully flips half of your wavy locks over your eyes. He flicks your forehead on principle with a laugh.

“Last is Shinya. What about him?”

“I got him a sushi making kit. He enjoys cooking and was just talking about making an attempt at putting together his own Edgeshot sushi roll.” Enji shrugs. “Like I said, I have the presents handled.”

“Color me impressed.” You giggle.

“You say that as if I would have planned to go without any.”

“I never doubted you; only worried that you might have forgotten.”

. . . . .

When you step up to the threshold of Toshinori’s house and get ushered in, you chuckle with Sayuri about how well the boys get along. Toshinori claps Enji on the back and by the time they reach the living area, they’re already smiling and exchanging pleasantries. Every day you wait with buzzing anticipation for Enji to learn that his best friend is none other than All Might himself. Not because it’ll piss him off, oh no, but the look on Enji’s face is one you don’t want to miss.

Maybe you’ll frame the picture of his expression when it finally happens.

As Shinya and Hana join the crowd a few minutes later, Sayuri seems to read your thoughtful expression.

“I still say he’s just gonna haul back and punch him on principle.” She snickers.

“I mean, it’s Enji’s own fault. How many other men does he know that are blonde-haired, blue-eyed, and seven feet tall?” You whisper back.

“Who are we talking about?” Hana suddenly squirms her way between the two of you with a smirk that’s up to no good. 

“We’re talking about how loud Toshi is in bed and if Enji can top it.” Sayuri winks. “Or should I say, our dearest ice queen can top him.”

“All I’m saying is Shinya’s a ninja in the streets and a monster in the sheets.” Hana wiggles her eyebrows, before sneaking back towards the kitchen as we drop our jaws.

Of course, you both trail after her, doubled over in mirth.

“Have you finished Christmas shopping, Hana-chan?” You ask when you’re composed. “We’ve only got eight more days.”  

“I really should have it done, but you know I always end up finishing shopping last minute.” She sighs. “Shinya can be so hard to buy for, sometimes.”

“Tell me about it.” You groan. “I’m just lucky inspiration struck me at the mall for Enji.” 

“You didn’t tell me you bought Enji’s big gift already! Now I feel bad that I haven’t gotten Toshi’s!” Sayuri whines, flopping her head on your shoulder.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry. I can go help you find something if you’d like.”

“You don’t have to feel obligated, but I’ll never turn down time with my bestie!” She laughs. “Besides, you have to tell us! What did you get him?”

“Yes, tell us what you got him.” Enji’s deep timbre rumbles from behind, making you jolt and smack his arm. “What? I want to know.”

“And you will…on Christmas!” 

“I think she means it.” Toshinori pops in behind him, earning a smack from Sayuri. “What? You ladies always sneak in on our conversations. Why can’t we be one of the girls for the night?” 

“Because you’re just doing it because you want to know your presents!” We all cry in unison.

You hear Shinya’s sigh before he materializes out of thin air in the middle of the group.

“Guilty as charged.”

Enji smirks at you, blue eyes burning with loving adoration that forces a smile on your rosy cheeks – you can’t help but kiss him. The other two couples in the room have the same idea. 

“Well, if we can’t know what our actual Christmas presents are…might as well start this party with the presents we got for each other this evening.” Toshinori decides.

Despite the dopamine rush of receiving some new headphones, the real magic forms after the gift exchange. In the middle of a pile of presents and soft decorative lights hanging from the banisters, the warm glow permeating your heart has nothing to do with presents and everything to do with the people surrounding you.

With a smile, you lean on Enji’s shoulder while Toshinori heralds a funny story about his awkward first kiss with Sayuri. Hana follows up with her own embarrassing tale of the time she nearly sprained her ankle on her first date with Shinya. You conclude with an egregious anecdote about the time Enji left you sitting at a hero gala alone because he’d been needed at the last minute for an emergency villain attack.

At the end of it all? The six of you raise a glass to true friends and true loves.

You meet Enji’s gaze as the bubbly champagne touches your lips, thanking God for blessing you with a man who’s both, and friends who won’t let you forget it.

Day 18

Credit to @saradika-graphics for the holiday banner! Thank you so much!

[wsknbfanaccnt]

Akashi-sama

Chapter 5 of They Act As One

Summary: Akashi discovered he can rest easy with Sevia. Seijuro on the other hand...

prev - next

"Akashi... Akashi!" Seijuro shook his brother awake with only a few minutes left of the car ride.

"And here I thought that I was the one weaker in the mornings. Did you not get sleep last night?"

"Well... perhaps I might have sacrified a few hours.."

"How many hours of sleep did you get?"

Akashi remained silent, looking away from Seijuro to avoid his gaze.

"Akashi!"

"Alright, alright...! I slept around... 6 hours I believe? But I was only up because I was talking to Sevia," Akashi said, handing Seijuro his phone.

Sevia: Thank you again for tutoring me, you really helped. Akashi: It was my pleasure. Please do not hesitate to ask for my help again. Sevia: and your horses were really cool! Akashi: Thank you, they're very precious. Yuki and Maru were actually born on the same day as Seijuro and me. Sevia: WHAT OMFG THATS SO CRAZY Akashi: Yes, it is a rather interesting coincidence. Sevia: when's your birthday btw? Akashi: That would be the 20th of December. Sevia: near christmas? damn, you'll make me go bankrupt Akashi: How exactly could my birthday lead to your financial ruin? Sevia: cuz I'll have to get 4 different presents for you two!

Seijuro noticed that Akashi left her on read for 7 minutes. Neither of the twins celebrated their birthdays anyways.

Akashi: Oh, you are too sweet. There is no need to get us presents, thank you. Sevia: but i have to! you guys are two of my closest friends <3

Seijuro couldn't bear to read more, feeling as if he wanted to chuck the phone out the window. He turned the phone off and handed it to Akashi, who he quickly discovered fell asleep again with his head bouncing against the car window.

You're just as stubborn as me...

As they stepped foot into the front entrance of the school, Akashi checked his watch.

"You should go on ahead of me, Seijuro. I agreed to meet with Sevia in the library," Akashi said, already turning the corridor and hurriedly going to the library before Seijuro could protest. Another pang of jealousy rang through his mind. In the mornings where they were free, they would go straight to the classroom and read in silence. It would have been insignificant to anyone else, but reading in silence within the comfort of your twin was something that they valued dearly. Spending time with each other without having to do anything.

Seijuro took a deep sigh, lazily waving to the direction where Akashi rushed off to. Heading to the classroom he pulled out his laptop, and began conducting research.

Who exactly is this girl...?

Akashi rushed to the library, a bit of a skip to his step as he arrived inside. He looked around, keeping quiet as he spotted the girl reading a book at the same table he found her.

"Hello there, Sevia." Akashi smiled rather brightly, sitting in front of the girl. She smiled in return, putting a bookmark in between the pages as she put it down. Pride and Prejudice. Nice, Jane Austen.

"Hi Akashi!" she said enthusiastically, though keeping her voice quiet. "Looks like neither of us really got any sleep," she chuckled softly.

"Unfortunately so... Seijuro scolded me in the car because of it. Luckily the exhaustion took over, and I drifted off to sleep as he continued talking." Akashi chuckled, the girl laughing softly.

"Sorry about that by the way, I didn't mean to make you stay up so late-"

"Oh nonsense. If anything, I should be apologizing for the same thing," he smiled softly at her. In truth, Akashi would have stayed up the entire night if could keep talking to her.

"Good morning, Akashi-sama~!" a couple of girls passed the two, Akashi waving back politely.

"Good morning, girls." he merely responded, silently reeling in from the honorific.

"-sama?"

"Please do not start-"

"That's so weird, acting like you're some sort of god. Pfft- jeez, you're just a guy." Sevia shook her head in bewilderment, her eyes trailing to the direction of where the girls were headed.

Akashi stared at her for a bit.

"Oh- I didn't mean that in a bad way...! Sorry uh-" the girl panicked a bit, seeing as how his bright crimson eyes just gazed at her.

"No no... please, do not fret." the redhead smiled instead, relaxing visibly at her presence.

"I understand your intent."

"Seijuro, I think I may have fallen in love."

"You don't know that. Here, look. I did a bit of digging and-"

"You said it was creepy when I did it," Akashi raised his eyebrow, crossing his arms as he turned his chair towards the direction of Seijuro's bed.

"Nevertheless. I've found a few things about her background..."

"I refuse. At this point, it may very well be cheating,"

"This is not a game..!" Seijuro exclaimed, exasperated. He sighed, putting his laptop away.

"Have you asked her to the party yet?"

"No, not yet."

"When do you plan to?"

Just then, Akashi's phone chimed. He picked it up, the screen illuminating his face as he read the text from Sevia.

"Tomorrow afternoon, it looks like," he said proudly, putting his phone back in his pocket.

"Oh dear. What now?"

"She invited me to the arcade. Wanted to hang out, apparantly," he said, barely able to take the smile off of his face.

"She invited you to the arcade?"

"Why yes." he said, turning back to Seijuro, curious of his tone. Seijuro had a look of disdain on his face.

"Don't be like that. You don't like being around her anyways. And you'll get the room for yourself for a few hours. Isn't that what you want?" Akashi said, arranging the things on his desk.

Seijuro didn't respond.

.

.

.

.

.

[a-queer-seminarian]

An ebook I've had on hold for weeks finally came in yesterday, the third Sunday of Advent, which centers Joy. As the book is titled Inciting Joy, I found this quite fitting — but I also thought to myself, “Do I really want to read a book about joy right now, given the state of the world and especially the ongoing genocide in Gaza?"

Well, I figured, I’ll give the book a try anyhow. And it turns out that Ross Gay opens Inciting Joy with an answer to my exact concern! He describes how a professor once asked him that very thing: “How do you write about joy in the face of…*gestures broadly*.”

The issue, Gay says, is that we consider joy and “all this” to be opposites, when in reality joy must be allowed to break bread with pain — and here I'll let video me continue:

[Captions for the video:

'Well the issue, Ross Gay says, is that we consider “all of this” and joy to be opposites, with joy in some lofty, cozy room high, and heartbreak locked away in a basement corner — when actually, he says, they are “fundamentally entangled" — and here I’m going to read an excerpt from the book:

“...Or even more to the point, what if joy is not only entangled with pain, or suffering, or sorrow, but is also what emerges from how we care for each other through those things? What if joy, instead of refuge or relief from heartbreak, is what effloresces from us as we help each other carry our heartbreaks? Which is to say, what if joy needs sorrow...for its existence? If it sounds like I’m advocating for sorrow, nope. ...But what I am advocating, and adamantly so, is that rather than quarantining ourselves or running from sorrow, rather than warring with sorrow, we lay down our swords and invite sorrow in. I’m suggesting we make sorrow some tea from the lemon balm in the garden. We let sorrow wash up and take some of our clothes. We give sorrow our dad’s slippers that we’ve hung on to for fifteen years for just this occasion. And we drape our murdered buddy’s scarf, still smelling of nag champa, over sorrow’s shoulders, to warm them up some. We wedge some wood in the fire. As we’re refilling their tea we notice sorrow is drinking from a mug given to us by someone we’ve hurt. We ask sorrow about themselves, and we scooch closer to hear. We eventually decide to invite a small group of friends over for a potluck, because we want sorrow to meet them...."

And, as Ross Gay continues, eventually you and sorrow end up shrugging and inviting anyone who has any sorrow, which is to say, everyone. And everyone brings a little to share, and everyone introduces their sorrow to other people’s sorrows, and there's storytelling and supportive hands and laughing until you sob. 

And that, Ross Gay says, is joy. It’s that thing that emerges from “our common sorrow — which does not,” he’s quick to add, “mean we have the same sorrows, but that we, in common, sorrow.” And when we learn to sorrow together like that, we learn to love together, too. Solidarity is born.' / end of video.]

___

There’s a worship service some churches hold this time of year to make space for "common sorrow" in the midst of Christmas’s consumerist frenzy. It’s typically held on December 21, the winter solstice, and thus called the service of the Longest Night — or sometimes it’s called Blue Christmas.

It’s a chance to lament, to sit with grief a while, in community. Look up churches around you and see if any hold such a service; or create such a space for yourself at home. Take the time to sorrow in common — with loved ones, with Jews and Muslims facing rising hate, with our Palestinian siblings facing genocide. 

That’s what joy is — not locking pain away, but letting it sit, and speak, and break bread with laughter. And that, Ross Gay says, is why joy is a tool of survival, the parent of solidarity, in times like these.

[mollymaywrite]

Old Jumpers and Messy Hair

story one :3

Study Sessions

Remus Lupin x Lottie Moss (OC)

CW: just cutesy fluff

Thursday 5th December

6:15 AM

A pillow to the face is definitely not my favourite way to wake up but I can’t be that mad when I see Mary and Lily giggling about something across the room.

“Lottie come onnnn, you’ve already slept in” Marlene groans getting ready to pick up another pillow.

“Lotts your only gonna be upset if your late” Lily speaks up from across the room. Sighing I rub my hand across my face knowing she’s right.

“Anddd you can see reeemussss ifff you gettt uppp nowww” Mary adds putting on a dramatic lovey dovey voice and wiggling her eyebrows about while laughing. I grab Marlene’s pillow and fling it back across the room towards Mary failing to hold back my laugh as she does a over the top jump out of the way using lily as human shield.

“shut upppp, i’m getting up now but it’s only because lily ask me too so nicely” I say while pointing my other pillow in Mary’s direction. “sure it is” Lily says with a giggle. “HEY I thought you were being nice today” I say turning to face Lily with a slight pout.

Me, Lily, Mary and Marls eventually make are way out of are form and into the great hall for breakfast. I honestly don’t know where i’d be without hogwarts food, where else can you eat five slices of toast and still have more waiting for you.

We make are way to are designated spots at the gryfindoor table. Lily finds herself next to a very smiley James, Mary and Marlene sit down next to Sirius who’s having a very serious (hehehe) debate with Peter about what the best food to eat bacon with is. So i’m left to sit next to Remus who is sat in front of a (now forgotten) book watching Sirius and Peter with a very amused look on his face.

“Hey Lottie, did you finish your potions homework or do you need some more help with the last bits?” Remus looked over at me waiting for my answer to James’ question “I’m all good now Jamie me and Lils finished it up last night!” I reply grabbing some toast from one of the many large plaits. “It took us ages though we couldn’t figure out what else we needed to make it go pink”

“Should have asked me, I finished mine ages ago” Remus says turning to face me. “Awhh Moons why didn’t you say we were doing that for hours, your my favourite study buddy too” I reply looking up at him. “If you think you need help with anything else you can ask, We’re mostly in the same classes” He says looking back down at his book.

“Do you think you could help me with some Charms stuff then? I need to get more practice with all the hand movements” I say wiggling my hands about and smiling up at the brown haired boy next to me. “Sure we can do some practice tonight if you want, Your test is coming up soon” He says smiling back at me.

“I’ll meet you in the common room after diner then, Is that okay?” I ask before turning back to my mostly untouched plate. “Sure, see you tonight” He says with a small smile, turning his head back towards his book.

After diner I take the familiar route towards the common room for me and Remus’ study session. I head towards the portrait door trying to remember the new password eventually it comes back to me and I mutter “BallderDash” the door swings open hitting me with the warmth of the lit up gryfindoor common room, after i’m inside I scan the room for where remus is sitting. I spot him sitting on the sofa near the fire reading the same book as earlier . “Hey moons” I mutter sitting down next to him. “I stopped by the Libary and picked up some books I thought we might need.” I say placing 3 thick books down on the coffee table. “Great, we probably wont have to read that much yet as we need to focus on your messed up hand movements” he says with a laugh opening up the first charms book full of diagrams.

“This is what you’re doing right?” He asks pointing down at the page in front of us . “Yeah that’s the one i can’t get right” I reply sitting back into the chair with a sigh. “Show me how you’re doing it” he says turning to face me. I sit back up in the chair reaching in my bag for my wand. “Well so far i’ve been kinda doing it like this” I say swishing my wrist about trying to get it going the right way.

He lets out a light laugh, “i’m not surprised you can’t get it to work if that’s how your doing it, come here, He reaches out grabbing for my outstretched arm pulling me towards his chest. I can feel my face lightly heat up as he pulls me into his arms my back lightly hitting his chest. He moves his hand to hold it over my wand and he leans down to talk straight into my ear. “your doing it all wrong Lotts, you’ve got to start like this” he says turning my wrist slightly . “Now you try” He says stating close to me. I let out a cough still surprised by the sudden intimacy. “erm- well i geuss it’s something like this right?” I quietly mutter out begging to move my hand, it looks nothing like what he just did but I am trying my best.

After i’m finished he leans in even closer putting his hand back on mine putting his face lightly over my neck so he has a closer look on the wand. He quietly says “Cone on Lotts you can do this”. I can feel the heat of his breath on my neck causing my face to flush up again. I let out another chocked up cough.

He moves his head over to face me. “You doing okay over there Lottie?” he asks sounding rather amused. I look over at him are faces nearly touching. “Mhm” I say staring into his big brown eyes. His hand moves over to touch my blonde hair, “Your really pretty, you know that right?”.

My lips slightly part as i continue to look up at his face. I’m not sure exactly when it happened or who moved first but our lips met each others in a soft kiss. My mind goes blank and i somehow forget how to move. My stillness alerts him and he quickly pulled his head back.

“Lotts, I’m sorry. I really should have asked” . I keep on staring up at his equally red face before placing one hand on his thick jumper pulling him into a soft kiss . My hands find their way into his soft brown hair as his hands gently travel down to my waist.

The pile of books and my wand lay abandoned on the coffee table in front of us.

OKAYYY please don’t judge this was my first time writing in like forever. i will improve i swear but for those who stayed i hope you enjoyed it and there will be more Remus and Lottie in the future :))

[detectiveichijouji]

Case 23 - Kido Joe’s strict rules of madness

[AO3 version]

Briefly, Ken and the others found Noel around Taichi’s university. But the moment his eyes encountered theirs, Noel decided to run away. Maybe he was still scared?

“Ken.”

Daisuke stopped walking and glanced at Ken, “Noel had a fragment, but he got it stolen from him. He was going to give it to me so we could keep it in a safer place and without hurting anyone.”

“... I see.”

“I told ya, Noel is a good guy. You gotta apologize to him.”

“... I will, but next time ok? I have to go home.”

And then Ken left. The group went back to their own homes after that too. But Ken wasn’t going home… He really found odd Noel Leblanc being there, right there… Casually and all of a sudden… He was kinda curious about Noel’s alibi to being there…

… But he didn’t find Noel.

… Noel Leblanc was definitely there -- Ken was musing as he returned home. The moment he arrived at the Ichijoujis residence, he realized his parents weren’t at home yet so he just walked to his room and started musing about the information gathered so far.

“... Something does not sound right…”

“Hm?” Wormmon blinked, “What’s wrong?”

“Noel confirmed he’s a distant relative of Arsène Lupin’s creator,” he was reading the messages Takeru sent to him. 

It felt like Ken and Takeru had become some kind of Sherlock Holmes and Watson for this mystery. Funny though, because of the Lupin books having its own take of the most known British detective as ‘Herlock Sholmes’.

“Huh, is it?”

“Well, it can be possible… But it might mean we’re on the right path,” Ken rested the phone on the desk and looked at Wormmon, “It could mean the hypothesis that Noel Leblanc created Arsenemon is plausible.”

“Hmm…Ah, I see!” Wormmon nodded, listening to Ken’s musings quite interested.

“Maybe he sent Arsenemon to help us out. Noel was present when Hikari-san received Koushiro-san’s phone call…”

“Hmm… True true.”

“This means… Espimon might not be Noel’s only digimon partner.”

“Oh??”

“He’s Arsenemon’s partner too.”

Joe and Gomamon usually go home late, because of the activities at the medical school and his internship there. Also, they were still helping the Digimon Arena -- which changed its localization to a better place, and kept training and challenging digimon and tamers. Except this time King Shoutmon had legit real prizes for them, from their village’s cuisine and crafts after all.

“Soooooo… Do you think I can beat TeslaJellymon next time and win the all-you-can-eat ticket from Delumon’s cafe?”

“It would’ve been nice, but don’t forget we’re not there to just compete,” Joe smiled, “we’re helping to keep everyone safe and treat their wounds.”

“Of course! But… Ah… I’d like to try out the Village of the Smiles’ cuisine someday…”

They laughed lightly, walking in the streets. Until they found the eyepatched Impmon… lying on the sidewalk.

“Huh…?” they blinked.

“Help… Me…!!”

In the morning…

“Aaaah I can’t believe I’m turning 17 soon!!” Daisuke seemed pretty… excited?? “Just a few more days… Uh… 18 days!!”

“Why? Do you want to get your presents already?” Hikari giggled.

“N-nope! I mean… Takeru, Ken and you are already 17! I’m always the last one of the 1991 kids to get older!”

“True…” Takeru smiled, “I’m the oldest. You can call me ‘Takeru-san’ now”

“No way!” he pouted.

Noel was also walking with them to school, again. At least this didn’t feel tense this time.

“... Ah! Noel,” Daisuke grinned, “When is your birthday, dude?”

“... June 15, but why?” The boy looked back, directly to Daisuke and with some curiosity about what Daisuke would do with that info.

“Oh! So you’re…”

“16 years old already. I was born in 1992… I think.”

“Makes sense…”

June 15…? -- Takeru thought, but this time he kept quiet. To not make Daisuke mad at him again. But why was that date interesting for him…?

“This makes him a Gemini!” Hikari commented, “Like Miyako-san!”

“Hm? Inoue-san… is a Gemini…?”

“Yes, her birthday is on May 30th though”

“Oh…”

“Mine is December 1st!” Daisuke added, with another grin, “This means I get presents twice in a month!”

“Oh… Christmas presents too…”

“Well, there’s the ones who just give only one present for two dates” Hikari teased Daisuke with a giggle, “Right~”

“H-hey…! Don’t remind me of that!!”

The classes were completely normal for them all. But something kept bugging Takeru… Something wasn’t right… Something… was off.

Then, after class he just witnessed (by sheer accident of fate) Lune talking with Noel and Soleil:

“You shouldn’t be befriending those punks!” She said, “Remember, we have a goal.”

“...” Noel, however, did not say anything in return.

“Well… Let him be, Lune.” Soleil sighed, “Soon or later he will stop.”

“I made predictions, they won’t stay on your side at all!” she continued, “If you keep trying to be Motomiya Daisuke’s friend… You’re fated to misfortune.”

Takeru wanted to intervene and defend Daisuke, they were saying something so awful about his friend! And now saying Noel couldn’t stay friends with Daisuke?!

But Takeru’s phone rang, and he had to leave before the other three noticed him there. It was Miyako, asking him and the others to gather at the karaoke booth.

He, Daisuke and Hikari (plus their digimon) left the school and went to the usual karaoke booth. There, Miyako explained them the details:

“King Shoutmon said… Joe-senpai had gone crazy and took control over the Digimon Arena. Then, Izumi-senpai sent me a message saying he detected another fragment and a bizarre amount of data around this area here,”

She pointed to a marked area in the map of her laptop.

“Then, I went to check which area is and… Bingo. It’s the new place our friends picked to host the Digimon Arena’s activities.”

“Another fragment…” Takeru clenched his fist.

“Now they chose to attack Joe-san…” Hikari frowned, “First Sora-san, then Taichi… What are their goals now?”

“... I can’t see the pattern here” Iori commented, trying to connect the cases to each other, “Only that Arsenemon was right to warn us about the enemy targeting us now.”

“Hmm…” Ken mused.

“Did you notice something, Ken?” Tailmon asked.

“Miyako-san, please search for Ornismon data. I need to check a little detail.”

“Hmm??” They all looked at Ken, and then Miyako started checking the database about Ornismon.

“Hmmm… It is an ancient bird, possibly linked to… hatred?”

“Hatred??” Patamon repeated, “So this means…”

“They were exploiting our Crests’ power negatively” Hawkmon added, “isn’t it what you were thinking about, Ken-san?”

“Yes, as I suspected… Previously they were enabling the seven deadly sins, but now…”

“They’re goin’ after us and using our Crest power wrongly…” Armadimon mused, “So, this means… Takeru and Patamon can be targeted again, dagya?”

“... We need to catch those remaining pieces as soon as possible” Daisuke clenched his fists, then asked: “How many shards are left?? How many do we have? And How many Arsenemon have?”

“Whoa whoa, calm down Daisuke” Miyako said, “Hmmm… 7 for us, 9 for Arsenemon, and there’s only 4 left.”

Iori was recapping all the previous incidents with the fragments: “Taichi-san’s case was possibly exploiting the Crest of Courage. So if Joe-san has one…”

“Well, he was kinda acting cowardly don’t ya think?” V-mon commented, “So, what’s the opposite of Reliability?”

“Hmm… Deceitful, disloyalty, dishonesty, treachery, unsteadiness…” Wormmon answered.

“I think we shouldn’t go too literal here,” Daisuke sounded annoyed, “Let’s go stop Joe-san before things get worse.”

“Alright!”

But someone else was listening to them… And before they could catch him , the one spying on them left quickly, not even meeting with the group when they left the booth and headed to the Digimon Arena.

The Digimon Arena was covered by… water!? At least it was a bubble filled with water shielding the building. The 02 group were confused about it though -- would they need to swim to get inside? Should they just send Iori and Submarimon?

But…

Sending Iori alone sounded too troublesome…

So Ken had a strange feeling and approached the water barrier. He examined it for a second and then put his head inside it for a few minutes. Miyako and Daisuke gasped in horror and they were ready to go there when Ken took his head off the barrier and looked at them, deadpanned. 

“It’s not real, we can breathe inside.”

“NEXT TIME DON’T DO SOMETHING THAT RECKLESS!!” both Miyako and Daisuke hissed.

“A-anyway… Let’s go,” Takeru tried to interrupt their fight. They all nodded and got inside the building.

And then they just met Joe and what was supposed to be Gomamon, perhaps? A Neptunemon was next to him and they watched the Arena, TeslaJellymon and other competitors like Tenno Yuu’s Sparrowmon were… writing something on paper sheets!?

“What, is this a cram school now?” Daisuke blinked “Everyone’s doing homework??”

“No, it’s not homework it’s…” Iori commented as they approached the arena. Then he just glanced at one of those sheets and realized what they were, “... a contract.”

“A contract?!” The others (but Ken) exclaimed.

Daisuke immediately took a paper from one of the kids filling it and read it, “Huh…? It’s about the arena rules?? Wait, you have to agree with ALL OF THOSE to be able to participate in the battles!?”

Ken yanked the paper from Daisuke’s hand, and the others read it over his shoulder, “... ‘No running, no using projectiles, no weapons, no shouting, no chatting, no singing, no rough play, no drinks or food, no swearing, no tossing junk, no diving’… ‘Don’t break the equipment/building, use the stairs, play safely, use slippers’... ‘Please inform your phone, Digimon Arena ID, blood type, digivice type, digimon type, digimon field, digimon category, allergies, goals’…”

“What is this, a public pool??” Daisuke squinted his eyes. (※ he clearly didn’t read it at all)

“I think this is going too far,” Iori commented.

“Joe-san, please stop!” Miyako ran towards her, but suddenly a horde of Marching Fishes came in, blowing a whistle and wearing security hats.

“DON’T RUN INSIDE THE BUILDING!!” Joe shouted from a high lifeguard chair.

“A-ah!!” Miyako stopped immediately. The others came in, but walking calmly. Then she looked at the group and whispered, “How can we do something without breaking the rules?”

“... Have Imperialdramon deck that fish-like digimon?” V-mon commented.

“That’s Neptunemon,” Tailmon clarified, “I didn’t expect to see one here…”

“The rules didn’t say we can’t fly, so…” Daisuke grabbed his digivice, “Let’s go, V-mon!”

V-mon nodded and then… “V-MON EVOLV--”

“NO SHOUTING!!” Joe ordered, shouting again; then he snapped his fingers. 

“W-WHAT?!” The Marching Fishes came in swarms and then dragged Daisuke and V-mon outside -- “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaah, helppppp…!!” they shouted until their voices faded. Then the fishes left them outside the building.

Daisuke and V-mon tried to get inside, but… no success. Now the barrier was made of water and they couldn’t dive into it -- “DARN IT!!” Daisuke punched the barrier.

The other five couldn’t even react to that… Oh no, they’re in real serious trouble. If they can’t snatch the shard from Joe and Gomamon…

“Joe-san,” Hikari frowned, and then walked calmly there, “Why are you doing this?? Weren’t you helping King Shoutmon and TeslaJellymon to get stronger? Weren’t you here because you wanted to help the contestants to not get badly hurt??”

“Those fights ARE dangerous, so I put an end on them. If they follow the rules, no one will be hurt. I’m doing it for them, but I won’t allow anyone to disobey my rules.”

“That’s wrong!” she snapped, but still not raising her voice, “You know deep down that you’re setting too many rules to the point there’s no fun anymore! Yes, you’re preventing someone from getting hurt, but you’re also not allowing no one to do anything!!”

“You’re like them, disobeying norms and running amok in this place!”

“Aren’t you disobeying the rules too, at this point?” Iori said, deadpanned.

“H-huh?!”

“You clearly said ‘No shouting’ while shouting,” Takeru commented.

“Kh--!!”

“He also shouted when telling Miyako-san to not run too,” Wormmon nodded.

“The rules say no weapons, but Neptunemon is wielding that big spear right next to you,” Patamon added with a shrug.

“We can do those things! We’re keeping this place in order!!” Neptunemon hissed.

“That’s a lie, you just want to drop a ton of rules on us to ruin the fun” Miyako squinted her eyes, “How can the Digimon Arena work if you can’t even battle?!”

“Yeah,” Armadimon wagged his paw, “Bet y’all can’t beat us fair and square here, dagya.”

“You all are--!!”

“Checkmate, Joe-senpai” Ken smirked, “You know we’re right. You broke the same rules you made.”

“GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!! I… I…!!!”

“Should we go retrieve the fragment from him now?” Hawkmon asked them.

“Mhm! Miyako-san!” Hikari grabbed her D-3.

“Ok!”

Hawkmon evolves to… Aquilamon!Tailmon!Jogress Evolution! Silphymon!!

Silphymon then used their visor to pinpoint where the shard was, so they could get it from Joe-or-Gomamon. They identified it as the whistle on Joe’s necklace.

“There” Silphymon shouted, but Neptunemon attacked. They dodged the spear and stared at the opponent, “Miyako-san, The Digimental fragment is the whistle” They (Aquilamon side) said.

“I won’t let you get him and ruin our dominion!”

“Since Joe-san broke the rules…” Takeru nodded, then used the Digimental of Hope to evolve Patamon into Pegasusmon.

“No!!” Neptunemon shouted, and then threw the spear at the boy and Pegasusmon. Everything was starting to get extremely BAD when…

“Un, deux, trois~”

Someone snapped the fingers and teleported Takeru & Pegasusmon out of the range of the spear.

“WHAT?!” everyone exclaimed.

“C'est l'heure du spectacle” Arsenemon appeared in the middle of the arena, “ Pardon, I’ve been appearing too early recently~”

“Arsenemon!!”

“STOP RIGHT THEREEEEEEEEEEEEE!!” Daisuke and V-mon came in, running after they had been unblocked from the barrier.

“Oh, my favorite Chosen Detective was outside this time,” then he snapped his fingers and a calling card popped in front of Daisuke, which was caught by the boy:

Hello, mon ami. I’m here to steal the wicked fragment from Kido Joe. Enjoy the show~

“I won’t sit and let you steal it!” Daisuke growled.

Then suddenly, Kido Joe started to laugh. Quite scary, to be honest.

“Ah, you want this?” Joe showed them the whistle in his hand, “Well, I’ll give you if you could beat Neptunemon.”

“?!?”

“What? Do you think I’m not a trustworthy person?”

“Ken… We have to use Imperialdramon right now” Daisuke whispered to the other, who nodded in response.

“Then I will--” But suddenly a robotic arm sneaked in and stole the whistle from Jou’s hand “W-WHAT!? HOW?!”

“You’re all bark but no talk!” Miss Espimon appeared from the ceiling, “Now go back to normal!!”

“… He let it be caught,” Armadimon blinked.

“?!?!?! HOW COULD YOU--”

“He might not wake up like this. So allow me to help you, fine gentleman…” Arsenemon shrugged, “Oeil de Chat” he snapped his fingers and a small black cat with green eyes magically popped in front of Joe, having the glowing cat eyes synchronize with Joe’s and then making the man fall asleep.

“I… um… Sleepy…” Joe fell asleep, and with this Gomamon returned to his original form.

“H-huh?!” Gomamon blinked, “Ah I’m back to normal…?”

“ You. tried. to. kill. us.” Pegasusmon appeared behind Gomamon with a deadly glare. He was already charging his Silver Blaze when Takeru patted the back of his head.

“GAAHAHAHAAAA SORRY SORRY SORRY!! 💦” Gomamon hid behind Daisuke. 

Daisuke took Gomamon with his two hands and lifted the digimon, “So, you we’re really into it huh…”

“I’m soooooooooorry!! That Impmon inserted one of those shards on Joe and it also corrupted me!!”

Everyone stared at Gomamon, “Suspicious…”

“D-do you really think I’d try to hurt y’all!? I’m a good digimon!! B-Besides… There was something else that night…”

“Huh?”

“A pair of eyes… They definitely cough Joe and me into some hypnosis spell… I recognized it… It was… Dracumon’s eyes.”

“Dracumon?”  The kids and the digimon exclaimed, but not Ken or Tailmon (neither Epimon and Arsenemon) (※ Silphymon jogress has undone and both Tailmon and Hawkmon were back to adult and child forms, respectively)

“Dracumon… that name…” Ken mused, “It surely sounds familiar…”

“Dracumon are vampire-like digimon, probably one of Vamdemon’s old acquaintances” Tailmon explained, “Might be… related to… That one digimon we met before…” 

“Hmm…”

“Ugh… I felt like I had a hangover…” Joe woke up, kinda dizzy though… “But I didn’t drink…”

“Are you okay now, Joe-san?” Hikari asked him.

“Yeah… Thank you guys… And sorry everyone…”

“Oh don’t worry you’re fine now right, Big J??” TeslaJellymon grinned, “we gotta catch those two digimon and snap their necks!!”

“No neck snapping!” Daisuke said, then he looked around and… “GAH, ARSENEMON AND ESPIMON ARE GONE!!”

Ken didn’t mind the lost fragment though… He was mostly interested in the fact that Espimon came out of nowhere. It only reinforced his theories that Arsenemon is linked to Noel, as partner or as some accomplice.

As for now, Arsenemon has acquired the 10th shard, while Team 02 has only 7. Only 3 are yet to be found, or to be used by Impmon and Dracumon.