#winter prompts 2022

[tropes-and-tales]

Possibilities

December 8:  Party/Locket - Everyone can see it but them (Frankie Morales x F!reader)

(From the winter prompts found here)

CW:  Idiots in love

Word Count:  1221

AN:  Requested by @nuvoleincielo​!

AN:  There is a sequel here!

It’s painful to watch, and Santiago Garcia cannot figure out how to fix it.

In the field?  He can triage anything:  heat stroke, hypothermia, broken bone, gunshot wound.  He can save the people he loves, can keep them safe most of the time.

And yet, the two people he loves best in the world…he can’t seem to help them.

Frankie is his brother in combat, but you’re as close to a sister as Santi will ever get.  The daughter of his mother’s own best friend, you and Santi grew up together.  You had chicken pox together; you spent long hours playing video games together.  You never grew apart as you grew up, and Santi’s always held you close to his own heart.

It was like a dream, bringing you into the fold.  His oldest, dearest friend and the men he went to war with.  You fit in so well with them with your soft sarcasm, the way you smile when you tease the guys.

Santi knows you must fall for Frankie immediately.  He guesses so because you never say a word about it to him, and you’re usually so open with your crushes and infatuations.  Yet when he catches you once, early on, dipping your head in blushed embarrassment at something Frankie says, Santi can guess…

He doesn’t push it then.  He can’t:  Frankie is married then with a baby on the way.  And anyway, it’s just a crush.  Harmless.

Then Frankie’s addiction is revealed.  Frankie is left by his wife.  Frankie gets divorced.  

The guys help him get help.  You’re right there too, for the intervention and the support afterwards.  

Once Frankie gets stable, gets some sobriety under his belt, Santi thinks, now the two of them have a shot.  By then he’s noticed that Frankie has a way of looking at you from under the brim of his hat, his eyes following you like a forlorn dog.

Nothing ever happens.

Every get-together.  Every big blow-out party and every mundane night at the bar to watch the game.  Santi always thinks, this is it.

Nothing ever happens.

It hurts.  Santi loves you and Frankie more than anyone.  To see you each going home alone every night, tormented by your unrequited love for each other?  It’s painful.

And yet, when he broaches the subject with Frankie?  Gently suggests that you might like him, might want to be with him?

“Nah, man,” Frankie says once, running his hand through his hair before resettling his ballcap on his head.  “She’s just a sweetheart, you know?  Nice to everyone.  She’s not into me like that.”

And yet, when Santi tries to bring it up with you, mentions that Frankie might be burning a torch for you?

“Oh, I don’t think so, Santi,” you reply.  “I’m not the sort of woman he’d go for.”

You’re not wrong.  You’re the polar opposite of Frankie’s ex-wife.  You aren’t his typical type, but Santi thinks that’s a good thing…and moreover, he thinks Frankie knows it’s a good thing.

And anyway, Frankie’s type has always been the mean, hot sort of girl.  High-maintenance types that allowed him no time to relax or be himself.  

If there’s one thing Santi is certain of, it’s that Frankie is always relaxed around you.  Always himself.  

The only thing is getting the stubborn man to admit it.

-----

Now, this party, and Santi thinks that maybe Frankie isn’t stubborn so much as blind or stupid or both.

And if Frankie is blind and stupid, then you are too.

It’s just a holiday party, low-key with the guys and a few other friends.  Santi orders pizzas, gets a few kegs.  There’s no fuss, no agenda beyond drinks and food and time together.

It’s Will, at least, who notices this time.  He sidles up to Santi early on.

“This is sad,” he says, his voice low.  

“What is?”

Will gestures with his bottle of beer, points in the general direction where you and Frankie are chatting across the room.  It so fucking clear how the two of you feel for each other:  you’re facing each other, talking and laughing earnestly.  Frankie’s hat is pushed back so the brim isn’t hiding his eyes like it usually does.  Your eyes shine like two brand new pennies, never tearing your gaze from him.

“You could set a bomb off,” Will says.  “And those two wouldn’t even notice.  But you know damned well they’re both going home alone.”

“I dunno what to do for them,” Santi admits with a helpless shrug.

Will grunts and takes a sip of his beer.  They watch you and Frankie in silence for a moment, then Will offers, “he bought her something for Christmas, you know.”

“Yeah?”

“Yup.”  Another sip of beer.  “Dude agonized over it for months.”

It’s news to Santi.  Frankie never said a word to him.

“What’d he get her?” he asks.

Will snorts, takes another sip.  “A necklace.  A locket.”

“Jewelry.  Huh.”  Santi peers at Frankie closer.  

“Yeah, apparently she mentioned how her mom had a locket she always wore, but her older sister got it when she married or whatever.  So Fish went through this whole thing, trying to get her one just as good.”

Santi smiles at the image, Frankie sweating over your family’s drama between you and your elder sister, the constant back and forth.  

“Maybe when he gives it to her, it’ll convince her how he feels,” he says.

“Nah, see, that’s the thing.”  Will turns to him.  “Fish lost his nerve.  He said he’s gonna return it.  Said he doesn’t want to freak her out with such a personal gift.”

“Goddamnit.”

“Exactly.  Hence…this is sad.”

----

It’s Benny, at least, who notices too.  But Benny has the vague idea of a plan…

“Remember Iraq?” he asks Santi and his brother later on.  “Hamrin Mountains?”

“The simple extract that was not so simple,” Santi replies.  “Sure, I remember.”

Benny nods in yours and Frankie’s direction—the two of you haven’t moved in all this time.  Still wrapped up in whatever conversation you’re sharing.  Wrapped up in each other.

“Why not pull a reverse Hamrin on them?” Benny asks.

“What do you mean?” asks Will.

“I mean, we’re some of the most highly trained soldiers in the world.  We’ve done a shit ton of dicey missions.  We got those soldiers out of Hamrin.  What if we put those two…somewhere.  Just the two of them?”

“Isolation instead of extraction?” Santi asks.

“Are you suggesting we lock them in a closet until they admit their feelings?” Will scoffs.  “Dumb. This isn’t middle school—”

“No kidding, dipshit,” Benny retorts.  “Not a closet.  Think about it.  Tom’s family has that cabin on the lake.  Our own parents need a house sitter over the holidays.  There’s possibilities��”  

Santi turns away from Benny and looks at you and Frankie.  Still laughing.  Still talking.  Still looking at each other like you each hung the moon, yet still not believing that the other person could possibly feel the same.

Possibilities, Benny said.  

They are some of the mostly highly trained at covert ops.  And so is Frankie, but it’s one against three—four, if they can get Tom in on it—and Frankie’s so wrapped up in his own head about you, he’d never even see it coming.

Possibilities.  Santiago Garcia can see them.

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

The Other Half

Winter Prompts Masterlist | Winter Prompts List

Part Two | Masterlist

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Reader

Prompts: Sales/ Sparkling/ Opposites Attract

“Customer.” 

You glance over toward a man looking in a display case as your manager nods them toward you. You puff softly before slapping a customer-service-ready smile onto your face. You’ve been avoiding really working for the last hour; you’ve been able to hide, shuffling things around in the stockroom before your manager had insisted that you return to the floor. You’re working on commission, though—you need the sales, especially with Christmas just around the corner. You still have a couple of last-minute gifts to get. 

You walk over to the man peering into a sparkling display case, stopping just beside him. 

“Is there something I can help you find today?” You ask. 

“Yes,” The man raises his hand, tapping on the top of the case. “I’d like to see that tie clip, the uh…The silver one with the scroll work.”

There's something familiar about his voice, but you don't read too much into it. You round the counter, drawing a small key ring from your pocket. 

“The sterling silver? An excellent choice. It’s one of a kind,” You commend as you lift the small display out of the case and onto the counter. “And we have a special sale on these this week.” 

The man chuckles, offering, “I’m not particularly worried about it being on sale.” 

Cocky much? 

You glance at the man, then freeze, eyes widening. There’s no way that the goddamn Prince of Gotham is on your counter right now. Luckily for you, he’s focused on the tie clips. Maybe he knows you’re staring and is just ignoring it. Maybe he’s just so used to the sensation that he simply doesn’t register it anymore. 

You clear your throat, forcing yourself to refocus as he reaches out, hand hovering over the tie clip. 

“May I?” He asks. 

“Of course,” You nod. You don’t expect him to run with it—the guy’s got more money than god. He slides his coat off of where it’s slung over his arm, setting it down on the counter and taking up the tie clip. You rest your hands steadily on the counter, watching his face as he eyes the clip. His eyes narrow a touch as he sweeps his thumb over the scroll work.

“May I ask who you’re purchasing this for?” You ask. 

“My butler.” 

Your brows raise a touch. You’d imagine that Bruce Wayne would be the type to give someone a store credit, and to tell them to buy something they like. 

“What’s his style?” You ask, though it feels like the wrong question—and by the way Wayne’s eyes flicker to you, you realize that it sort of is. 

“I suppose he’d describe it as understated. I call it boring.” He looks back down at the tie clip. “I was hoping to get him something to mix it up a little bit.” 

You smile a little. 

“Well, if you like that tie clip, we have matching cuff links to pair with them.” 

“I’d like to see those.” 

“Of course.” You crouch down again, drawing up the display with cuff links and setting it on the counter beside the tie clips. He sets the tie clip down, leaning over and narrowing his eyes slightly to look at the cuff links. After a moment, to your great surprise, he plants his elbow on the counter and rests his chin on his hand. You can’t help but smile. He looks like an indecisive little boy.

“What does your butler like?” You ask. 

“...Mopping,” He answers after a moment, “And berating me.” 

You laugh a little, unable to help it. “Something tells me he only really likes one of those.” 

Wayne’s gaze flickers to yours, and you’re surprised to see him smiling, himself. It makes your smile widen before you arch a brow. “So?” 

“Come to think of it, he likes gardening,” Wayne adds, straightening up. 

“Perhaps a new set of gardening gloves?” You offer.  “Or a trug?” 

“What’s a trug?” 

“It’s like a long sort of shallow basket for carrying back flowers and produce and tools.” 

“...They sell those here?” 

“Yes,” You nod, “The gardening section is on the fifth floor.” 

“Okay,” He nods, rapping his knuckles on the counter. “Wrap up the tie clip and the cuff links, and then let’s go.” 

You blink at him in surprise before you glance back toward where your manager is watching you closely. 

“Ah—I’m not sure I can go with you to another floor,” You laugh nervously as you take up gift boxes for the tie clip and cuff links. “But I’ll be happy to call down and ask for a a sales associate that could help you.” 

Wayne frowns a touch, gaze sweeping you before he looks around. “Where’s your manager?” 

Oh—No. Are you going to get in trouble for following the fricking rules? Is he going to change his mind about the tie clip and the cuff links? The two items alone would net you a commission of almost $500. But you force a placid expression onto your face before raising your hand, signaling for your manager to come over. A dark expression crosses her face, and it turns your stomach. 

“Yes, sir,” She chirps, coming to the counter and stopping beside Wayne, “How can I—” She goes silent as she realizes who he is. Her jaw drops a touch at the sight of him before she stutters, “How can I—I—Yes, sir?” 

Wayne’s smile shifts to something that you haven’t seen at the counter—a press-ready, plasticized grin. 

“Your associate has been incredibly helpful.” 

“I trained her myself,” Your manager grins. You can’t help but roll your eyes. She certainly did not—you’ve been here for a year longer than she has. 

“Well, you’ve done a marvelous job,” Wayne insists. “In fact, I’ve found her assistance so invaluable that I was hoping you could spare her for a little while.” 

“Spare…?” The manager repeats, eyes darting between you, Wayne, and the gift boxes on the counter. 

“Mr. Wayne is interested in a few items in the gardening department,” You clarify. 

“Her sense of style and function are just…” Wayne trails off, lips curling teasingly as he shoots you a sneaky, cheeky wink, “Just what I need.” 

You don’t even care if he’s exaggerating for the sake of your manager; the flattery still makes your face go hot, and that wink—you have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing. 

“I suppose we could manage without her for a little while—But not too long. She’s such a valuable asset to the department,” Your manager coos. Well. That’s news to you—especially considering how much you slacked off that morning. 

“If you could have these rung up,” Wayne reaches out, tapping at the top of the gift boxes, “And hold them for me here.” 

“Of course. They were the…” Your manager glances toward you expectantly. 

“The sterling silver scroll work tie clip, and the matching cuff links,” You relay. 

“What beautiful choices! You have such a sense of taste, Mr. Wayne,” You manager turns a bright eye toward him again. You have to bite your tongue to keep from scoffing aloud. You’ve never seen her fawn over anyone like this. Mr. Wayne just smiles and gives a nod, taking up his coat from the counter as you tuck the two displays back into the counter, locking them up. 

“Shall we?” Wayne asks, nodding toward the elevator. 

“Of course,” You nod.

“Take your time!” Your manager adds brightly. 

“Thank you,” Wayne rests his hand on her shoulder, giving it a slight squeeze before turning away. The two of you walk over to the elevator, and you clasp your hands in front of yourself as you wait. Wayne gestures for you to step on first, then follows, watching you jab the button for the fifth floor. It’s quiet between you for a moment before Wayne says,

“Is she always that bad?” 

You can’t help but burst into giggles, raising your hand and covering your mouth. 

“I think you brought something new out in her,” You tease. You lead the way off of the elevator as you reach the fifth floor. “Do you have any other people that you need to shop for?” 

“What other people?” Wayne repeats. Your stomach swoops with panic. You know what happened to his parents—everyone does. 

“A girlfriend, perhaps?” You clarify. 

“Ah,” He nods in understanding before shaking his head. “No.” The two of you go quiet for a moment before he asks, “Have you gotten all of your shopping done?” 

“Not all of it,” You sigh. 

“What do you still need?” 

“Something for my roommate—and uh, probably something for her parents. We’re going to hers for Christmas.” 

“What about your family?” 

“They live in Metropolis.” 

“Are you from there?” 

“No, no, I’m from Gotham. They moved there last year.” 

“Why?” 

“It’s just more affordable.” It feels like something stupid to say to a billionaire, but it’s the truth—and considering his comment on your manager’s countenance, you think he’s pretty good at seeing through falsity. But he just nods a little bit, looking forward. 

“Here,” You gesture toward the display of gardening gloves, tucking your hands behind yourself. Wayne hums, taking a step closer and peering at the selection with the same interest that he looked at the tie clips and cuff links. 

“Are there any that stick out to you?” You ask, looking around. 

“He has a scarf similar to…Those,” He points to a check-patterned pair by you. You let out an interested hum, nodding and taking them up. 

“They’re cute,” You turn them over, eyeing the fingertips, “And they’ve got little pads so that you can text while you’re wearing them.” 

“I’m not sure Alfred would worry about that,” Wayne smiles, “Though I’ll be sure to mention it to him.” 

You smile a little before nodding to the display. “All set here?” 

“Mm, let’s make it two pair…You choose one.” 

You consider, looking down at the gloves in your hand. If he’s getting one patterned pair…Maybe a plain pair? You look around, drawing your lip between your teeth as you consider. Then you reach out, snagging a pair of forest green gloves. Wayne reaches out, taking them from you. 

“He’ll like these,” He says softly. You smile, relieved. 

“Now,” Wayne adds, looking around. He seems to be squinting and pouting for emphasis. “On to the…shrug?” 

“Trug,” You correct, “But I think you know that, Mr. Wayne.” 

He catches your eye, his brows twitching in surprise. Then he smiles warmly, giving a small nod of concession, muttering, “Touché.” 

“They’re this way,” You nod around the corner. 

It doesn’t take the two of you long to choose what he considers a suitable trug—a light grained wood base with mahogany handles and silver fastenings. You expect to leave it there—to lead Wayne to the counter, to thank him for his business, and to go back to work. Instead, Wayne tells the clerk that he’ll be back for the gloves and trug, and then turns to you. 

“Walk me to the elevator?” He asks. 

“Of course.” 

You ignore your coworker’s stunned expression and turn, leading the way down the aisle. Maybe he wants to go back upstairs and get the cuff links and tie clip. But—

“What are you doing for lunch?” He asks. 

-- 

It feels like an illicit rush to get out of there—redirecting Wayne to the staff exit so that you wouldn’t be clocked by the security guard for leaving. He’d put his coat around your shoulders as the two of you had stepped into the Gotham chill. You hadn’t gone far—you’d insisted that you couldn’t. You’d wound up at a diner just a few blocks away from the store. 

You glance at Wayne now, and smile as you watch him look around the diner. 

“Why’d you ask me?” You ask after a moment. “Wanted to see how the other half eats?” 

He chuckles, leaning back in his seat a touch and meeting your eye again. “I’ll have you know that I ate at plenty of places like this when I went to Princeton. Besides, you said you wanted to come here.” 

“If I had asked to go somewhere else—” 

“We would’ve gone there instead.” 

“Even if it was some five-star something something?” 

“Especially if it was some five-star something something. I’m guessing the wine list here is a little lackluster.” 

You snort, looking down at your menu. 

“...Why did you ask?” You press nervously. He doesn’t answer for a moment, and you glance up at him from beneath your lashes. He’s watching you closely, eyes wandering your face. 

“Because you spoke to me like a person. Not like how your manager spoke to me, not like I’m ‘Bruce Wayne’.” 

The admission is surprising. You hesitate before you argue, “But you are Bruce Wayne.” 

He smiles softly. 

“I know that and you know that,” He leans in, folding his arms on the table. “But I like it better when neither of us act like it.” 

Part Two

Tag list: @amneris21 ; @elen-aranel ; @brandyllyn ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight

[royal-they]

I want to be strong and wise to protect the people I love!

You shouldn’t be here, it’d be bad if Belos saw you…

______________

the protector and the one who needs protection

[lunarrosette]

This is my gift for @bog-teeth for the @dndads-winter-gift-exchange so happy hondadays mate hope you enjoy!!! :D

[whumpookies]

AMOW Winter Whumperland 2022

A Christmas story day 7..

Prompt: Bleeding out @amonthofwhump

Series: Gülperi bölüm 29.

[cloveroctobers]

DECEMBER DRABBLE — 1. ANGEL TORRES 🌨️

A/N: are people still reading for nope lol? Decided to kick my winter prompts off with this broody intelligent handsome man so here we are! The goal this year is to keep them short and sweet (which is always a challenge for me for whatever reason lol) so let’s hope this plans out well! Just know drabble for me never really equals out to that unless it’s shorter than my usual work 😉 in my mind that makes sense okay?! + Reader is always written with black OR POC in mind but not fully descriptive in this one.

Prompt: #6. “If I have to listen to Michael bublé one more time…” + #5. “it’s too early for this Christmas shit.”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

Night time has fallen quite quickly once daylights savings hit. The shift in the amount of light the world received in a day hardly bothered you. You were one of the lucky ones.

You enjoyed the early sunsets and cruising at night; night time cruising was much different in Agua Dulce and you enjoyed every moment of it. It also helped that majority of time you decided to hit the streets at night, you had a partner right beside you or driving you. Tonight you were the driver and took the thirty-five minute drive to your boyfriend’s job.

Angel Torres was not the usual “type” you went for but you found yourself easily falling for him after he didn’t judge you for breaking the shit out of your Mac desktop. It’s actually the reason why, “Breaking Dishes,” By Rihanna was your signature ringtone whenever you called him. Yes he still had specific ringtones for certain people, shut up.

You were newly neighbors and seen him around with this 5’11 girl that looked like she walked runways with Bella Hadid. The both of you never spoke since he always looked so preoccupied with the girl, yet you remembered catching his eye one time leaving the laundry room as you chatted with your then-boyfriend on FaceTime.

Before you could be neighborly to offer a wave with both hands full, he was gone from your sight—like he couldn’t be bothered.

You didn’t take it personally.

It wasn’t until that pollen-filled day in April that the both of you held your very first conversation. Angel had the day off and was just coming back from picking up some lunch when he saw you, three doors down, screaming from your apartment as you ran out, desktop held up over your head—it also looked beat up already before you launched it over the railing and down into the courtyard.

Your chest heaved as you flicked your beaded hair behind you, the plastic clacking against each other as you did so. Taking deep breaths with your eyes clenched shut, fingertips pressed together, you opened your eyes to meet Angel’s.

“Sorry you had to see that neighbor.” You spoke first, straightening out your baby-tee underneath your shacket.

Angel lifted his shoulders, “you did what you felt was right in the moment for you. It’s whatever.”

Letting out a cackle, you bent over with your hands pressed into your ribs.

“Although…that Mac,” Angel started as he stepped forward and leaned over the railing to look at the crushed object, “looked like it was in pretty good condition still. What was wrong with it?”

Was this guy forreal? Did he really want to talk to you about computers instead of the fact that you just tossed it out into the sun without a care?

Standing up straight you crossed your arms, “it is—or rather was. My ex got drafted into the NBA back in December before the holidays and bought me that for Christmas. Ever since then he’s been giving me the runaround except for last month when he came out to celebrate my birthday and spring break with me. Now I know why.”

Angel carefully took in your words. He kinda knew how you felt, he was suspecting himself that his high-school sweetheart, Martina Villaba was growing distant. Ever since she decided to drop out of college sophomore year and started going to parties more without him, Angel could feel a breakup coming soon. For what reason? That he did not know. He never thought Martina was cheating on him, since she had her own personal issues with her mother cheating on her father with her co-worker at her law firm. So Angel never thought that of his girlfriend…however he definitely felt some anxiety about where their relationship was going next.

Swallowing his projections, Angel asked, “why?”

“He deleted all of my sims data. ALL of it, shit that I took the time to create! Shit that I get paid for as extracurricular activities.” You placed your hand on your chest, feeling it began to race again, “so far the CC is going well and if I can keep this graphic design gig going for myself, just maybe I can quit my god-awful job that has nothing to do with my upcoming degree.”

So you played the sims, made CC for it, had a boyfriend who was athletic and didn’t take your interests seriously, took your frustrations out on the one object that allowed you to actually participate in your hobby, and you lived three doors down from him? Why has Angel never met you before?

“I could have taken a look at that for you,” Angel replied, “I’m sure you had backup files for the game. It should have been a simple fix, just had to do some searching and restoring then the actual game and your mods should still be there. Despite what he did.”

He could literally see your eye twitch from where he stood.

“I work at Frye's Electronics…computers, VR, drones, you name it, is kinda my thing. What I’m good at.” Angel continued as you began massaging the space in between your brows.

It was silent for a moment and Angel honestly considered slowly backing away to his apartment at this point. He was sure he wasn’t making this any better for you but he felt like it was the neighborly thing to do, offer some assistance if you wanted.

“Wish I would have known that there’s a tech guy living near by.”

“Yeah, just three doors down actually.” The bleached blond peeked at your ajar door to confirm.

“I’ll have him send me another one, then I’m breaking up with his ass.”

Angel widened his eyes, “that’s not exactly going to fix the—do you have a flash drive at all?” He suddenly picked his words carefully.

“What’s that?” You tilted your head to the side as Angel dropped his mouth before picking it back up and rubbed at the back of his neck as if it pained him to hear this, “I’m kidding! You just reminded me that I have some old but solid work on that shit and I love you for that…I just have to look for it.”

“Great! Let me know when you find it…” he paused as he glanced over the railing once more, “do you actually mind if I take the desktop?”

Turning your eyes into slits you stated, “you’re not about to do something freaky to it are you?”

“What do you possibly think I can do with—I’m going to see if I can take it apart to get to the hard disk, to see if it’s still salvageable just in case you don’t find that flash drive.” Angel informed you as you slowly nodded your head, as if that made sense.

“Have at it, Dexter’s laboratory.” You waved him off, getting ready to head back into your apartment, “just don’t let me find out that you hacked into my personal information or something.”

Angel scoffed, “I promise you I’m no stalker…” he trailed off in search of your name.

Raising your brows you pointed, “see look at you trying to guess my name, it’s giving Joe Goldberg.”

Angel rolled his eyes, “please do not compare me to that psychopathic narcissist. But if you want, I’ll just call you ‘you’ whenever we meet next.” He dryly joked.

You snapped then pointed, “What about, ‘hey neighbor!’?”

“Have you played that game?” Angel was curious.

“Hello neighbor?” You guessed, “I have, I actually like the second one a lot better—never mind that! What’s your name?”

“Why should I give you my name if you don’t want to share yours, neighbor?” Angel stared at you.

Scrunching up your nose you said, “Oh, you thought you ate.”

“No…” Angel was confused, “I’m actually waiting to by having this entertaining conversation with you.”

You pointed at his bag of food, “Is that from the new Filipino/Mexican spot up the block?”

“Yes it is.”

“They have excellent nacho bowls with Adobo.”

“Oh yeah, that’s what I got!” Angel gave a small smile.

“Did you really?”

Angel snickered, “No.”

“I’m leaving now.” Your gasp turned into annoyance as you realized you were done dealing with this sarcastic dude for the day, “Bye Mr. turd tech who lives three doors down.”

“Farewell Ms. Coo-Coo for sims who Breaks computers.” Angel gave a bow.

And a middle finger went his way, which he reciprocated with a laugh escaping his lips.

Who knew it would take you breaking a computer that your old boyfriend got you for Christmas a year ago would result in this? You ended things with the pro-athlete after he replaced your computer in May, he took the 2-year warranty off in retaliation and decided to show his ass with his new groupies on his Instagram stories. Not only that, he made it a big deal to showcase his new lifestyle without you, hanging with Devin Booker and other ball players, while dragging your name online but felt it was appropriate to cry to you over texts whenever he got drunk and lonely.

You had better things to do with your time. You were trying to build something for yourself and you never felt like he supported that. You didn’t wish him well but you wished he stopped trying to be something he wasn’t. So breaking up with your boyfriend was a thing, becoming closer with your neighbor happened, quitting your job to become fully self-employed was next, being there for Angel during his breakup that June was also a experience—he took it hard, and then life continued to get a little strange with something white and foreign gliding through the sky…

That could have been a death sentence and you really didn’t want to talk about it—but felt thankful that it brought you two new friends and Angel who you didn’t expect to call your boyfriend months later.

It kinda happened sporadically but when your life is threatened to be sucked up into the sky, you realize things you know—no Kylie Jenner. Of course this didn’t happen over night despite what your friends from outside the group thought. You and Angel were friends first, yet you just had to kiss him when you found him on the haywood ranch, badly limping over to him who happened to be wrapped in barbed wire and a blue tent. You thought you could escape that conversation later at the apartment but Angel couldn’t let it go.

He can be very persistent when he wanted to be.

Which led to, “it was stupid and it shouldn’t have happened. Sorry for kissing you when I know you’re not over Martina. It didn’t even mean anything! I was just happy we both didn’t die.”

Angel felt like your words were honestly bullshit. He listened to you ramble in his apartment as you badly paced his living room and honestly, he just wanted you to sit the fuck down to refrain yourself from further injuring yourself and making his head spin.

You were on his mind, been on his mind from the very moment he thought he lost you. How you slipped from his grasp and disappeared into Jean jacket. You should have been dead but he didn’t dwell on it, it didn’t matter.

You were here and you kissed him.

“Don’t tell me how I feel. You have no idea.” Angel’s words interrupted you, which got you to stop moving yet you kept bleeding on his carpet.

And he got to his feet and yanked you to his body, which obviously made him groan due to his own injuries, making you began to scold him until he shut you up with his own lips.

You found yourself thinking about that time often, smiling to yourself until you got caught. It had been five months since operation: Jean jacket went down and it seemed as if you and OJ Haywood were the main ones trying to put it behind you.

Emerald Haywood was living for the new found attention, although she tried to downplay it whenever she was around you three—not wanting to trigger any of you but she had changed a bit too.

None of you were exactly the same after the white species came down from the sky. How could you be?

Angel chose to continue to work at Frye's Electronics, which made no sense to you or Em but given what happened only inspired Angel further with electronics. He told you occasionally someone would come in to get further entail on what happened despite the numerous of interviews you all went on. At this point, you told Angel to just start his own podcast and you would help him since you had your own successful channel.

He thought about it but was brainstorming towards a different angle. He was thinking about creating a team to explore unexplained creepy, strange places around the world and you wanted to support it but you also wanted the guy to not unalive himself round two. Which he understood and agreed with to a extent but kept it as option b. He could start off just discussing those places for now, he had the channel but just didn’t fully execute it. The work load at Frye’s increased thanks to his presence being there.

A knock on the glass instantly had you reaching for your taser, firing it off as you were pulled from your thoughts. Once your eyes settled on Angel who raised his hands in surrender, breath floating into the night air, you sighed, unlocking the door as he shuffled in.

“My bad, baby.” Angel apologized as his hands went immediately to the vents to warm his fingertips.

Turning the headlights back on, you locked the doors behind him, and waved as Nessie walked across to get to her parked car.

“How was work?” You glanced at the clock on the dash to see that it was 9:52pm.

Angel let out a low whistle as you started the engine, waiting for him to put his seatbelt on before exiting from the back of the store.

“Slow at the start of the shift but definitely picked up after lunch,” Angel answered, reaching over to grip one of your hands to hold, “Also if I have to listen to Michael bublé one more time…”

A snort was followed by his response making Angel give you the side eye while he held onto your hand. Oh the joys of working retail where the customers are so entitled, lazy managers, and the heavy rotation of soundtracks that seemed to only know maybe ten songs.

You felt for your boyfriend and why you encouraged him to quit. Yeah you were that person, telling people to quit their jobs and dump their significant others—if it would bring them happiness then you were all for it!

“There’s nothing wrong with Michael bubbly.” You defended as you halted at the stop sign, “I’ve never paid him much attention before but his voice is actually nice.”

Angel scowled, “oh god, I can’t believe I have a traitor for a girlfriend. And it’s boo-blay not bubbly.” He told you before frowning to himself, “I don’t know why I know that.”

You laughed, squeezing his hand before returning it to the steering wheel so you could make a left turn. “Face it you like Christmas music and you can’t just listen to Lil Uzi Vert, Steve Lacy, Omar Apollo, and Hotel Ugly all day.”

“Yes I can,” Angel argued as he put the seat back to get more comfortable, “if I really wanted to I could control the soundtrack from up front. I have my ways. Nessie and I’ve talked about it already.”

That didn’t surprise you.

“So I take Nessie isn’t a fan either?”

“She only knows one Christmas song and it’s a Ariana grande one.” Angel rolled his eyes, watching the hills of Agua Dulce as you merged onto the highway.

Laughing to yourself, you expected it to be Mother Christmas herself, Mariah Carey but you guess whatever Ariana Grande track made some sense. Ms. Ponytail made a great Christmas album once upon a time but you were definitely going to give Nessie some shit about it through text later.

[To: Nessie]

Ariana grande Xmas? I’m shocked

[From: Nessie]

Until PinkPantheress drops one then u can talk 🖐️

After driving for about five minutes on the freeway, you reached for the knob on the radio to let some music flow through the quiet speakers. You figured Angel was beginning to nap on the passenger side and needed a little music to keep you company while he did.

However the jingle of bells and the familiar voice that flowed through the speakers made him sit upright pretty quickly. Your eyes went wide from beside him, trying to focus on the road and ask what was up.

Before you could Angel commented, “I’m really beginning to think that you don’t like me like you say you do.”

“Angel,” you breathed as you glanced at the sign for the next exit you needed to take, “what?”

It wasn’t uncommon for Angel to need some reassurance due to his own trust issues in relationships…however this came out of the blue.

“The music, why are we listening to him right now?”

You went quiet, picking up on the song and the possible artist. Which made you shake your head, a smile playing on your lips as you plucked up your phone and plopped it into your moody boyfriend’s lap.

“I forgot I had a random Christmas playlist playing on Spotify on my way to you, it wasn’t intentional but it is a little funny how that worked out.” You commented, peeking at the boy who pulled the beanie further down his dark natural locks.

You had the privilege of dying his hair back to black, which did much more for you than the horrible blond. Angel promised he wouldn’t dye his hair again (until spring or next summer—which is when he usually got bored with it) after the good treatment he received after his hair was done ;) and if he got to help you decide your next protective style color in the summer—you honestly believed he just wanted to match with you.

Yeah he could be annoyingly cute like that sometimes. And other times…

“Yeah so funny haha, I think I’m gonna throw myself out of the car.” He latched onto the passenger side handle.

He can be so damn dramatic.

“You can’t,” you answered, “child safety lock is always on bitch!” You stuck your tongue out, laughing as you got off the exit.

Angel pulled on the handle for instance and huffed, “I hate your niece for this.”

“Whoa. She’s a baby dude, the fuck did she do to you?

“I took it too far huh?” Angel realized, regardless of the fact that your 3 year old niece liked to pull hair and stick Pennies in the window slot.

“Just a bit.” You stated, “just change the playlist if you’re gonna act like this. You’re supposed to be happy, it’s Christmas!”

It wasn’t.

Angel grumbled to himself, too involved in your phone to be aware where you were pulling up to. Now instead of Michael Bublé playing, he settled on Michael Jackson which you couldn’t be mad at.

Once the car was in park and you were unbuckling yourself, you waited for it to soak in.

“We can’t be home that fast, my little speed demon.” Angel finally looked up from your phone and complete dread settled on his face, “y/n, why are we at hobby lobby?”

You grinned leaning towards Angel who pulled away from you. Okay that was strike two since he decided to call you by your name and not, “baby.”

“‘Cause the dollar store closed at nine and we gotta get our places ready.” You stated as if it was obvious, “I even got you some brown sugar boba to give you that extra energy to shop until we drop.”

Angel completely missed the two drinks sitting in the cup holders. He was just ready to get off work, have some dinner, and stay cuddled up with his baby binge-watching Law & Order SVU until he fell asleep, was that so bad to have?

“Shop until we drop,” Angel repeated with a scoff of laughter that his smile lines appeared in his cheek, “maybe we should call em and she can be your buddy for this, while I nap with this lovely bubble tea in my hands?”

You were quick, snatching his drink and holding it out of his reach. “The tea was the reward you grinch. Em and I had our girls date for the week already, I’m just trying to spend this jolly season with you and only you.”

“Babe,” Angel was sure heart eyes were showing despite his slightly agitated demeanor, “…how can I say no when you’re looking at me like that?”

“Exactly, you love me so shut up, drink your tea and hold my hand while we get our shop on.” You held the tea out to the man who rolled his eyes, a small smile still playing on his lips.

You only planned to be in hobby lobby for thirty minutes tops and you knew Angel was most likely tired from work and hungry. You weren’t that inconsiderate and would probably hit up a drive-thru right after, you were just festive and couldn’t wait for Angel to be too at some point in the month.

He sucked it up just for you, his cold yet soft hand was intertwined with your much smaller and warm one. You swung your hands together as you walked along the sidewalk, Angel sipping at his tea as he peeked at the window of the store on your way by.

He groaned to himself that you thought he was going to fall to his knees right then.

“What is it? Is the caffeine giving you heart palpitations again?”

Angel could have lied to get his way out of this but he didn’t, not when you got so excited about decorating.

“No, I’m actually fine thanks though babe.” He kissed your forehead, “it’s just too early for this Christmas shit.”

Sucking your teeth you looked at the Christmas decorations through the window and bounced on your feet, “it’s December first honey. Keep up.”

“Oh is it? I couldn’t tell after hearing ‘last Christmas’ making my ears bleed as soon as I walked through the doors at work at eleven-thirty this morning.” Angel sarcastically countered.

You nudged his arm with yours, “don’t ever disrespect Wham! Like that again.”

“They disrespected me first.” Angel mumbled around his straw as you practically dragged him to the front doors.

As you got pass the two front set of doors, your eyes lit up as you scanned the store, unsure what direction you wanted to go first. It was Angel who tapped on the back of your hand to get your attention.

“Time?”

“Thirty-thirty five minutes tops.”

“Budget?”

“For this store? Maybe $600. If it was the dollar store $100.”

Angel almost choked on his drink, “what do we need to spend $600 on?”

“We’re getting you a tree.”

“Where’d you get the tree thats strapped in the backseat?” Angel questioned.

You briefly thought about it, “oh no. Not that 18-inch miniature pine tree from bed bath and beyond, that just won’t do! You need a real tree for your apartment, those miniature trees are great for window sills, cars, counters or side tables. Things like that. And you can’t have my riding partner.”

“I can give you something else to ride if you pick three things under $100 bucks.” Angel grinned at you while you raised your brows.

This was the usual for you two. Whenever the both of you wanted to head into stores that you enjoyed spending time in, you gave each other a brief estimate of how long you’d be and what the budget was. Was it something you did at the beginning of the relationship before you each received your own cut of a settlement thanks to operation: JJ? No.

However you didn’t mind spending the extra cash especially if you were giving someone something whereas Angel was more practical. At the end of the day the both of you knew you couldn’t and wouldn’t control what you chose to do. You were both grown enough to make your own decisions…that’s for sure.

“That sounds very tempting,” you wrapped both arms around Angel’s neck who easily held onto your waist, “but you’d probably pass out before you really get up in it.”

Angel huffed, “that was one time! I had to work a double that day.”

Raising your brows you stepped back from his embrace, testing him.

“Okay, twice but at least I participated the second time.” Angel whispered as another couple entered the store.

Wagging your finger at the honey-eyed man you said, “Don’t mess with me, Angel. I’m getting you a damn tree and some extras. I decided we’re starting with your place first.”

And with that you spun on your heels, pleated skirt lifting as you did so—did you always have that on? As you yanked the carriage from its spot and glared at angel, nose up in the air as you circled around to charge through the store.

Have a holly jolly Christmas

It's the best time of the year…

Instantly Angel’s eyes clamped shut as the music began to play. He didn’t even realize he had his middle finger raised up directly at the camera and a simple, “fuck you Michael,” escaped his lips.

“Excuse me?” A voice asked.

That’s when Angel snapped his eyes open to meet the eyes of a employee who indeed had a name tag of: Michael written right on it.

“Oh shit man, not you. The song, well the artist. You’re doing a great job.”

Michael from hobby lobby just simply nodded his head almost in immediate understanding, “is there anything I can help you with?”

“See how can I possibly say fuck you to a employee that’s so helpful,” Angel grinned at the teen who just blinked at him, “right so…do you have snow ball machines by chance? I think it’ll be a great gift to use on my Christmas loving girlfriend.”

“…right this way.”

“Thanks man, glad you get it.”

“Yeah, you hate anything jolly.”

“Please,” Angel took a deep breath, “can we use any other word?”

“Happiness? You hate happiness.” Michael commented.

“That’s not true,” Angel opposed, “I think I just dislike Michael’s.”

“Yeah I got fired from there three weeks ago for stealing glue…and a heat press.” Michael informed.

Angel scratched at his brow not prepared for the answer he was going to get, “…why?”

“I had to get back at my sister. She embarrassed me in front of her friends so I charred her cheerleading uniform in the fireplace. Then put it in the heat press to put BTBB: Blair’s The Biggest Bitch on it and hot glued it to her face while she slept.” Michael shrugged his shoulders as he continued leading the way.

Angel nodded his head knowing the teen couldn’t see his reaction. As soon as teen Michael began to ramble about his hatred for his sister that’s when Angel decided to take his leave, silently.

He heard enough, appreciated the help but anything else besides that was not needed. He hoped Michael from hobby lobby got the help he needed since customers did not want to hear your problems!

Soon Angel found you near the Christmas trees which was the opposite direction of where Michael was previously taking him. Angel walked around the carriage to slip a arm around your waist, this time not making you jump while you were in deep thought about which tree.

“Hey, there you are.” You leaned into the olive skinned man’s side, knowing it was him, “didn’t find anything interesting to add to the cart during our little separation?”

Angel poked out his lips a bit and took a deep inhale, “uh nope. I’ve got all I need right here.”

“Aw. Look at you being sweet.” You kissed Angel’s cheek before turning back to your selection, “which tree screams take me home Angel.”

“There’s only one thing I wanna take home,” Angel honestly answered making you scoff as he circled back around to lean against the carriage, “but…I’m feeling that frosted one right here.”

“Yes!” You clapped your hands, motioning him to move the carriage back so you can see the price, “…I thought they said 50% off why is it still $1500?”

“Because companies are scammers and continue to be scammers while we’re in a recession. They want us to think they’re giving us a deal when in reality they’re still making a profit off you while you still end up struggling in the end. It’s false advertisement really.” Angel rambled while you dipped your head repeatedly, hearing this explanation before.

You began to pout.

“Baby, I told you I don’t even want a tree so don’t worry about it.”

“Yeah I know, you need one.”

“Just get me one from the dollar store tomorrow or whenever you go shopping next.” Angel suggested.

“I’ll order you one from Amazon tonight so let’s go eat. I’m not in the mood anymore, fuck hobby lobby and their ridiculous prices.”

Angel kicked the carriage out of the way, “And fuck Michael.”

“Michael who?” You asked as you browsed the amazon site.

“Let’s not ruin the evening and figure out what we’re in the mood for tonight, huh?” Angel’s arm slipped across your shoulders.

“Ah, it’s your turn to pick.” You mumbled as Angel peeked at your screen full of artificial trees.

Angel cheered at that while you were too distracted by your phone screen, leaving him to do the honors of leading you back to the car, with you trying to find him the best got damn jolly tree.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

[Continue along with my December anthology series here.]

[dbd-winter-fest]

Some roleplay starter ideas!

[serickswrites]

Home Alone

Warnings: referenced gun shot, referenced wounds, referenced blood, referenced hospital, hurt/comfort, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery, caretaker and whumpee

Caretaker smiled as they wrapped Whumpee in a blanket on the couch, mug of hot cocoa sitting on the coffee table, the fire crackling in the fire place. Everything was finally right. 

When Whumper had taken aim and fired at Caretaker, Caretaker had, with one hundred percent certainty, thought that it was the end for them. That the bullet would rip through them and kill them. But no pain came. No burn followed by hot blood followed by nothingness. 

Instead, something heavy collided with them and they fell back, the heaviness further settling on them. It was only when they realized that Whumpee had jumped on top of them that they knew it was serious. 

Because Whumpee hadn’t moved. Hadn’t stirred or groaned with pain. They just lay on top of Caretaker, blood soaking into Caretaker’s sweater. Caretaker had frantically patted Whumpee’s cheek trying to rouse them. Pressed down on the chest wound trying to keep Whumpee’s blood inside them. Begged the universe to watch over and protect Whumpee. To spare Whumpee. 

And the universe listened. Whumpee had lived. They’d spent a few weeks in the hospital recovering. But they had lived. And would live. 

Caretaker settled themself on the couch next to Whumpee, grateful to have another day with Whumpee. Grateful that the universe had heard their prayers. It was a holiday miracle indeed. 

[callaeidae3]

A Month of Whump (@amonthofwhump ) - Day 5: Frosty the Snowman

Turned into decoration | Trapped in a blizzard | Self-sacrifice | Comfort: Warm kisses

"You’re tired," Kyle murmurs. He brushes Yuuki’s hair out of his eyes. "You’re tired and you’re hurting, but you’re not weak...

"You’ve survived so much already.

"...that's not weak at all."

Scene from The Redemption of Kindall, K. (Kindall K, #2) - Ch. 30

[tropes-and-tales]

Viking Blood

December 28:  Heater/Sunrise and Sleepover (Nick Amaro x F!reader)

(From the winter prompts found here)

CW:  Named nationality; burgeoning love; fluff; no editing whatsoever.

Word Count:  972

AN:  Requested by anon!

It’s like Murphy’s Law:  just when New York City is going through its coldest snap in a decade, the furnace in Nick Amaro’s house decides to die.

Any other time, he’d suffer through it.  He lives alone in the house now that Maria and Zara have moved to D.C., so he only has to worry about himself.  Any other time, he’d wrap himself in layers and tough it out until morning when a repair person can come.

It’s dangerously cold though.  The space heaters he has barely touch the cold, and he moves them into the basement anyway to try and salvage the pipes, to keep them from bursting.

There’s no other alternative, then.  He calls his partner.  You’ve always had his back, and you’ve always extended the offer for anything he needs.

Tonight, on the coldest night of the year in New York City, what he needs is a warm bed.  Or at least a warm apartment.

-----

He gets the former, not the latter.

“Look, the couch is comfortable but it’s cold as hell in here,” you explain.  You rub the back of your neck, apologetic.  Embarrassed, maybe.  

“So?”

“So it’s better if we bunk up for the night.  That okay with you?”

“We’ve shared a bed before.  Remember when we were stuck in Newark?”

You grin at him.  “Yeah, asshole, and you complained to everyone that I snored.”

“You did snore.”

You huff at him.  Cross your arms.  “Didn’t.”

“Snored like a bear.  Snored like a muscle car.  Snored like—”

“You’re being awfully rude to the only person standing between you and hypothermia, buddy,” you interject, your grin turning sly.  “Unless you want to call Munch.  I bet he’s a champion cuddler.”

Nick holds up his hands in surrender.  “Alright, fine.  You didn’t snore.  You sleep like a dainty little princess.”

“Damn straight, guapo.”  You chuck him on the shoulder, then tilt your head in the direction of your bedroom.  “Get cleaned up.  Make yourself at home.”

-----

Make yourself at home.

He doesn’t, not really, not at first.  At home, he sprawls in his bed, but in your bed, he tries to be respectful.  Keeps to his side, keeps his arms and legs to himself.

But fuck if it isn’t still cold, even with your apartment building’s functional furnace.  Even with the small space heater you have set in the bedroom to help supplement the heat.  Even in his flannel pajama pants, Henley shirt, thick socks.  There’s a thick layer of frost on your window.  The wind outside shrieks, howls.  It makes the night seem even darker and colder.

He can’t help himself when he shivers.  Every shift in bed presses him against a new cold spot, and it takes all of his strength to not let his teeth chatter together.

You, though?  You seem…okay.  

You also notice his shivering.

“Want me to cuddle with you?” you ask.

He turns his head in the darkness, can just make out the shape of you beside him.  “How are you not cold?”

“Oh, I am.  Just not as cold as you.”

“Still…”

“C’mere.”  He feels you shift beside him, then feels your hand on him.  Turning him towards you, and then the warm embrace of your arms around him.  You rub his back briskly, then tuck the covers more firmly around him.  Hardly a manly moment for him, but Nick finds he doesn’t mind being babied a little bit, at least by you.  Of relinquishing control and letting you gently manhandle him to warm him up.

It does the trick.  Within a moment, his shivering stops, and a moment after that, the final bit of chill leaves his bones.  Between the two of you—you the warmer one—the bed is a cozy little haven on the coldest night in Nick’s recent memory.

“Better?” you ask, and you drop your voice low because he’s right there, but it comes out unintentionally sultry, nearly sexy.  

“Yeah,” he replies, and his near-whisper sounds sultry too.

“Why are we talking to each other like we’re phone sex line operators?” you ask in that same low, sexy voice, and it startles a laugh out of him, which makes you chuckle too.

He doesn’t answer, but he asks (in a more normal tone, he hopes), “why aren’t you colder?”

“Genetics.  My grandma was from Norway.”

Nick smiles in the darkness.  “So you’re built for this sort of weather.”

“It’s the Viking blood.”

He reaches out, wraps a comfortable arm around you and pulls you closer.  “I appreciate you looking out for me.”

“Anytime, partner.”

-----

Nick survives the night.  He wakes up once in the dead of night to use the bathroom, and it’s torture to pull himself from the cocoon of your bed.  He dashes to the bathroom, shivering the whole time, then dashes back to your bedroom, practically diving under the covers.

He doesn’t wake you, but the way you reach for him in your sleep, the displeased grumble you make until you have your arms back around him…it makes something tight go loose and lax in his chest, an unfurling that’s been threatening for a long while now.

When you start to snore a moment later, he only smiles and holds you a little tighter.

When he falls asleep, the last cognizant thought is how lucky he is to have found a warm place to stay for the night, in the arms of his partner and closest friend.

And when he wakes before you in the morning, the rosy sunrise casting your sleep-rumpled features in a soft light, his first thought is how lucky he is to have found a warm place to land after his divorce, because he recognizes the unfurling in his chest finally—the first sign of spring, of warmer weather.  The beginning thaw brought on by love.

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Honey-Bunny

Winter Prompts Masterlist | Winter Prompts List

Pairing: Harvey Specter x Reader

Prompts: Mistletoe/ Hands/ Fake Dating

“Cut it out,” You grumble.

“Cut what out?” 

“You’re being too smug. My family’s not gonna buy that I’m dating a smug asshole. Hell, they’re probably barely buying that I’m dating anyone.” 

“I’m not being smug,” Harvey insists, curling his arm around your middle. You try not to overthink the way your body warms with the press of his palm, and the sweep of his fingers against the fabric of your dress. “I’m just so happy to be here with my honey-bunny.” 

“Oh, my god." You reach out, snagging a glass of champagne from a passing waiter’s tray. You draw in a deep gulp, tipping your head back and letting it slide down your throat, joining the two that you’ve already downed. 

“Careful, sweetie. Your family’ll think we’re not happy.” 

“One of us isn’t right now.” 

“Really? I’m ecstatic.” 

You cast an unamused sidelong glance at Harvey and find him smiling brightly at you. 

“C’mon, admit it,” He adds, leaning into you, his breath brushing your temple. “I’m a better stand-in at your family reunion than Mike is. I’m better dressed, I’m more interesting, I’m more attractive—” 

“I am so telling Mike that you have such a low opinion of him the next time you see him.” 

“Now that's not fair. It’s just, you know. Mike is like this,” Harvey raises his hand, waving around his shoulder, “And I’m like this,” He raises his hand, waving it around his brow. “Besides, I’m taller.” 

“You’re the same height. The only thing edging you out is your Johnny-Bravo-like hair.” 

Harvey’s jaw drops, a stunned laugh leaving his mouth. 

“Johnny-Bravo-like?” 

Your mom calls, “Get over here, you two!” Before your argument can continue. You wince at the sight of your family lining up for a picture. 

“Oh—Mom, I don’t know—” 

“This is not negotiable! Get over here!” She orders, “Both of you!” 

“It’ll be fun,” Harvey insists, his hand resting on your lower back as he leads you over to the familial tangle. 

“I don’t think I want you in our Christmas photos for time immemorial. I’m gonna have to explain who you were every few years.” 

“Maybe you ought to just invite me back every year.” 

“Doubtful.” 

“Maybe your mother will—” 

“Do not drag my mother into this—” 

The two of you shut up as your mom waves the two of you into line with the rest of the family. 

“You gonna quibble with me about standing one place or another? Making sure they get your good side?” You mumble.

“Please, sweetheart. Every side is my good side.” 

You roll your eyes openly, winding up for another argument—and then Harvey curls his arm around you again. Your stomach swoops at the feeling, your face going warm. It’s absurd—you can’t stand Harvey, but he’s making you feel all…Gooey. You push a smile on your face for a few pictures, and are determined to hurry away and drown your gooey feelings in champagne—but as the others begin to disperse, your mother warns:

“Ah-ah-ah, don’t get far, you two. You know the tradition, honey.” 

Your eyes go wide, stomach twisting with embarrassment. 

“Oh—Mom, no,” You plead. “We do it every year—Oh, Harvey, you’re gonna love this,” Your mom swears, gripping both of you by your hands and tugging you to a different spot in the room. “Whenever a new significant other is brought home for the holidays, they take a picture under the mistletoe.” 

“Really.” Harvey’s smug amusement is back, spreading his smile wide.

“It’s an old tradition—It’s—Mom, we really don’t have to do this,” You stumble over your words. 

“Oh, come on now! You’ve always been a little shy, never bringing anyone home before, so we can’t pass this opportunity up!” 

She looks up, positioning the two of you under the mistletoe that’s been hung in the event space by the staff (probably at your mother’s request). You glance up at Harvey as your uncle waves you closer together, holding up his camera. Harvey leans in, giving your cheek an obliging peck as you give the camera a weak smile. 

“Oh, please,” Your mom complains, “A real one!” 

Your smile goes tight as you look up at Harvey. 

“This wasn’t part of our agreement,” You whisper, “You don’t have to do this.” 

Harvey’s gaze skates your expression before he gives a small shrug. 

“It’s a couple of seconds to make your mom happy,” He murmurs, “I don’t mind. But I’ll push back if you need me to.” 

You can’t help it—you go a little gooey again at the offer. You’d expected Harvey to brush it off, or to be a dick about it—but his expression is sincere, and his eyes are searching yours for any hint of hesitation. So you give a small nod, and try not to think about the way your heart leaps into your throat as Harvey draws you closer. You sway into him just a touch, chest brushing against his. The two of you lean in, and your lips meet in a stunningly warm, soft kiss. You try to fight it, but your eyes slip closed. Harvey raises a hand to cup your cheek, his thumb sweeping tenderly over your cheekbone as your heads tip slightly, deepening your kiss. You vaguely register the coos and clapping from your family just a few feet away, and that finally snaps you out of it. 

You lean back, nose brushing Harvey’s slightly. You blink at him in slight surprise, tongue sweeping across your lips. As Harvey’s eyes open, he seems just as stunned as you are. His slick, smug look is gone. His eyes are searching yours again, then dip, and catch on your lips before steadying there. Your chest flutters as he seems set to go in again, but you hear your mother shooing, “Alright, you two can canoodle in the corner! We need to get your cousin and her girlfriend in here. Go on.”

You clear your throat, pressing your hand to Harvey’s chest and guiding him away from the mistletoe. The two of you come to a stop in a quiet corner. Harvey’s arm is still curled around your middle; your hand is still on his chest. You raise your hand a little, absently straightening his tie, just to do something with yourself that isn't fumbling an apology, or drawing him back in.

“Thanks for the, um…” You trail off, waving toward your family. “I’m sorry, I didn’t remember that—stupid tradition.”

“Doesn’t seem that stupid to me,” Harvey offers. 

“That stupid implies that you think it’s at least a little stupid.” 

“It was unexpected.” 

“I’ll give you that.” 

“Wasn’t bad, though.” 

“Sealed the deal. I mean—” You hurry to correct, eyes darting to Harvey’s face nervously. “In terms of being…Believable. I never pegged you as such a good sport.” 

“No one’s ever managed to peg—” 

“Oh my—I don't need to know that," You groan, turning and hiding your face in his shoulder. He chuckles, arm tightening around you. 

“Still think I’m a smug asshole?” He murmurs against your temple. 

“I know you are,” You grumble. “Just because you’re an alright kisser doesn’t mean you’re not.” 

“An alright kisser? Oh, that just won't do."

"What do you mean that won't—"

You go quiet as Harvey cradles your jaw, drawing you in for another kiss. You let yourself lean into him, your hand slipping from his tie, up into his hair. He hums softly against your lips, nudging you back against the wall. Your breath leaves you in a soft huff as feel yourself pressed into the hard surface. You can't imagine what your family is thinking, or if they've noticed that the two of you have, in fact, taken then chance to canoodle.

Harvey just smiles, smoothing his hand over your hip.

"Better than alright?" He murmurs. You pretend to consider before shrugging a little.

"Nearly."

Harvey's expression darkens, and he chuckles softly, shaking his head.

"You're asking for it," He warns. You smooth his hair down, a wicked thrill shooting down your spine.

"Why honey-bunny," You coo, sweeping a fingertip along his plush lower lip, "I don't know what you mean."

Tag list: @amneris21 ; @elen-aranel ; @brandyllyn ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight

[royal-they]

plant magic tutoring

______________

Prompt: Studying

[seaside-writings]

Hello, all you lovely people! I made yet another bingo card this time with the theme of Winter fun.

I based these prompts on my own experiences and things that I've seen in almost every holiday movie, so I hope you find a prompt that helps you and your characters have fun in the snow!

As usual I just ask that if you use this list to please tag/credit me so I can see what you've made!

With that out of the way, please enjoy this list!

I hope you all stay blessed and safe throughout your day.

Merry Christmas & Happy Holidays: Celia 💚❤💚❤

Prompt List:

Snowball Fight

Sledding

Ice Skating

Building A Snowman

Catching Snowflakes

Making Snow Angels 

Make Snow Cones

Blow Frozen Bubbles

Ice Fishing

Skiing

Snow Painting

Free Space

Make Maple Snow Candy

Snow Shoeing

Make Flavored Icicles

Study Snowflakes

Dancing In The Snow

Taking A Sleigh Ride

Snow Day

Play Hockey

Snow Day Picnic

Make Snow Castles

Drinking Hot Chocolate

Napping By The Fireplace

[nocturna-iv]

More than friends

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Relationship: Angel Dust/Husk

Summary:

The fact that Angel was in Hell was a good indication that he wasn't a good person. He didn't think he was a villain, but he was the type of demon who played dirty if it meant opening the eyes to a certain chimera who insisted on saying that they were just friends.

And if Angel had been able to orchestrate Valentino's murder, how difficult would it be to convince Husk that they were meant for each other?

Well, apparently that involved a BDSM club, a motorcycle ride, the Cannibal Colony, and a gingerbread house. Honestly, he hadn't expected that last part.

Link: Here

Prompt List:

[rizzoto-whump]

@amonthofwhump​ Winter Whumperland 2022 day 6 - Stress Position

CW: Hazing, military whump, bruises, blood, nsfwhump

Update a new chap!

James' journey in the academy is not finished, and he is tired with his seniors

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43363404?view_full_work=true

[dbd-winter-fest]

The official Prompt list! Feel free to make your own prompt list as well and add a few things!